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Keen eyes darted over diagnostic reports displayed across blue translucent monitors. Yizhuo ran a hand over the tank of the bike, giving it a fond tap. She’d spent the previous two days making adjustments. A high speed chase ended with it rammed into the side of the perp’s truck. Since then, she’d been particular about keeping it in tip-top shape.
The sounds of the Batcave kept her focused— the quiet drip-drop of water running down rocks, deeper into the cave, where the bats liked to nest amongst stalactites; the echoes that curled and bent around jagged corners, into endless darkness.
“Are you sure you don’t want Hyunseo to go with you?”
Jimin stood atop the tallest of the platforms in the center of the cave. She leaned against a sprawling desk, the Batcomputer behind her; upon the stacks of large, flat screens, live camera feeds played next to scrolling data, next to case files from active cases in the midst of investigation.
They added to the ambience of their shared fortress with quiet beeping and clicking, ever at work, a mimicry of its creator.
Yizhuo simply shook her head.
The older woman scratched her cheek with a gloved hand. Yizhuo’s eyes traced the mask that hung around her neck like a hood, pointed ears prominent. Jimin’s routine patrolling would start a bit later than Yizhuo’s. Technically, Yizhuo only had to take care of Burnside. Jimin and Hyunseo’s presence would take them all over Gotham and, on occasion, outside of it.
“How about you take my bike?”
“This one’s fine.” She didn’t bother to look at Jimin, knowing concern would still be shrouding her features. “Minjeong’s here,” Yizhuo mentioned, off-handedly.
“I know, she tripped the alarms.” Jimin’s eyes quickly found the trench coat-clad figure inspecting the giant penny sculpture at the far end of the cave. “You have to stop breaking into the Batcave,” the eldest Yu chastised.
“I didn’t break in. I walked through the front door,” came the crime fighter’s signature disaffected tone.
Yizhuo was sure her expression would match it, she’d seen the look on her face before, blank with a hint of teasing buried far underneath. Though, now, her face was another kind of blank— in the most literal sense of the word. Featureless, like taking a heat gun to a plastic toy’s face.
The Question’s peculiar look was intimidating, shrouded in shadow and mystery, not unlike the very woman who bore the featureless mask.
“Hey, stop touching my penny!”
“I’m not touching it.”
“I can see you—!”
Yizhuo climbed aboard her bike, feeling satisfaction from the sound of the engine revving.
“Hey! Be safe!” Jimin called out, her only reply coming as the squeal of tires against cave rock.
Measured breaths wheezed through the broken rebreather, smothered by the roaring fire that circled the hero.
The suit was fire-proof, but being tossed through crumbling foundation was bound to do a bit of damage. What mattered was that she got the final stragglers— a mother and her two sons— out of harm's way. Glancing down at the tear in the forearm of her suit, she let out an annoyed grunt from the scorching heat that clung to her skin. It only meant that she’d have to finish this quicker.
Firefly’s visor, a mimicry of domed bug eyes, reflected chaos back at Batgirl, her silhouette at the center of it all— a black hole’s singularity. The nozzle of his flamethrower swung towards her, disappearing in a rush of orange and yellow.
The vigilante sprung back on one hand, her other moved to her belt, whipping a batarang in his direction in the same time it took for her boots to thump against the withering floorboards.
The arsonist yelled, hand recoiling from his weapon, the spiked end of the throwing weapon lodged in the meat of it and Batgirl took off into a sprint, muscles coiled and ready to put him down.
She had him.
Would’ve had him.
Yizhuo was measured.
She was careful.
Every situation had a drill that accompanied it. Every villain in their colorful rogues’ gallery. Firefly was no exception.
Those plans went out the window the second a super-powered being slammed into the delicate, fire-scorched skeleton of the apartment building, far too eager, far from measured, far from careful.
Supergirl— Uchinaga Aeri, according to their files— was a wrecking ball in red and blue garb. An eager dog running at the sight of a rabbit darting into brush.
At the center of the wreckage, she stood tall, cape billowing behind her imposing figure, skirt whipping from the ferocity of the fires, not having done a damn thing to stop Firefly, who would’ve been incapacitated by Batgirl’s hand, but now, took off in a panic, jetpack sputtering as he attempted to flee from the appearance of another hero.
“Are you hurt!?” Supergirl yelled, oblivious to the situation at hand.
Batgirl glowered. Annoyance boiled under the dark vigilante’s skin.
It was horrible timing.
It was a factor that she couldn’t have predicted.
With one swift flick, a batarang snipped the tubing on Firefly’s fuel pack. Fluids spewed out, sending the villain into a spiral, nearly out of control, if Yizhuo hadn’t caught his ankle with her grapple and slammed him into the ground.
“The building’s coming down,” Yizhuo communicated to the super powered woman as she snapped handcuffs onto the villain.
At least the red and blue hero was a quick thinker.
Without hesitation, Supergirl snatched Batgirl and their pyromaniac friend up and pulled them out of the collapsing building.
In the streets below, SWAT officers shoved Firefly into the back of their armored vehicle, while firefighters smothered the last of the flames from the attack.
“Wow, does that happen often? I guess it’s a good thing that place was empty, huh? That could’ve been bad.” Supergirl spoke— rambled, Yizhuo concluded that term best explained the vomiting of words. Uchinaga liked to talk, apparently.
“Superwoman usually keeps to Metropolis.” The words were brusque, grated through distortion, courtesy of the voice changer built into the suit. She threw her useless rebreather to her feet.
Supergirl’s expression hardened. A slight frown replaced the airy, somewhat brainless smile. Red from the adjacent building's buzzing neon sign highlighted the angry lines of her face. She stood straighter. “I’m wherever I’m needed. A ‘thank you’ would be nice.”
Yizhuo didn’t respond. She swept her cape behind herself and set off.
“Are you usually this quiet?” Supergirl trailed behind her, not seeming to understand the bat’s intention to abandon the conversation.
If it were even a conversation to begin with.
It wasn’t.
“I don’t need help.” The vigilante turned abruptly, stopping the super woman in her tracks, floating inches above the ground. Irritation made her chest tight from having to look up at the superhuman. “You’re right. It could’ve gone way worse.”
The alien’s lips parted in a sneer.
“Stick to Metropolis,” Yizhuo spoke with finality.
If words were spoken, the bat didn’t hear them, already off of the roof and on her bike, ready for whatever the city threw at her next.
—
Metropolis was diametrically opposed to Gotham in every way.
Though, one thing didn’t change. People. Crime was anywhere people were. Which was why Batgirl and Robin were crouched in the rain-soaked shadows of the Metropolis harbor, watching as a drug deal took place. It was a significant one— two large gangs from either city helping the other ship cargo across the pond. Across the pond being Gotham, to the criminals’ misfortune.
They’d already swept the perimeter up without either party realizing they were short ten men.
“Let’s finish this,” Robin nodded to Yizhuo. Her words were nearly lost to the sound of rain pelting the surrounding shipping containers; hollow metal echoed across the harbor like the tolling of bells.
They should’ve known it wouldn’t have been so easy.
Venom was diluted to a mere annoyance when in the common criminal’s hands. The kind that they were brewing wasn’t nearly as potent as Bane’s— it didn’t last as long and wasn’t so effective, but it was useful enough to have a couple of brutes on their crew at their convenience. It only took a few to make things more complicated for Batgirl and Robin.
Yizhuo hated complications.
Using her cape to stun the criminal, she swept their feet out from under them, landing an incapacitating punch to their jaw. A flurry of motion at the docks recentered her attention.
“They’re taking the drugs,” she managed to grunt out before abruptly being pulled into a headlock by a venom user.
“You think!?” Robin squeaked, dodging a punch from a powered foe. Hyunseo lithely slid below them, snatching the pack that fed venom into their veins and crudely ripped it away from their body, cutting the line off. Pushing off of the ground with her staff, she nailed the criminal’s chin with the heel of her boot.
Yizhuo swung her arm back, the sharp fins of her gauntlets finding the criminal’s ribs, and stumbled into a roll when she was released.
He towered over her, neon green flowing through bulging veins, teeth gritted into the grin of a winner. Yizhuo knew better. Her hand had already found the pouch hidden behind her cape, fingers already curled around the trigger of the explosive gel gun— her mind ran through scenarios. Yizhuo always was best at thinking on her feet.
(In the back of her mind, she could hear the first and only bit of praise she’d ever been rewarded as a child. The words “Well done,” were accompanied by a nod and a prideful pat on her shoulder by a rough hand; an elder of the League of Assassins that saw promise in her survival of a harsh winter, dropped off in the middle of nowhere without a word of warning, hunted by her own peers, forced to fight for a life that wasn’t her own.)
Muscles coiled, ready for the attack—
Of course.
Another complication.
Red and blue.
Supergirl held the man above her head with a single hand without a hint of struggle. Bullets streaked orange, pinging off of the bright red beacon upon her chest, not one provoking a reaction from the woman, who sized Yizhuo up with a long look.
“What happened to sticking to our own cities?” She quipped. She tossed the man clear through a shipping container— its metal walls split open like a blooming flower upon impact.
Yizhuo grunted, side-stepping a drum barrel flung her way. Because she had manners, she shot them with her REC gun in return, effectively stunning them with the potent electrical charge.
“Now’s not the time.”
Uchinaga raised an eyebrow at the bat. “Oh, you get to give me a whole speech about who gets to be where, but I get cut off?” Easily, she caught a punch from a venom-user, twisting their arm and knocking them back in one fell swoop, all with a sneer pulling at the edges of her lips.
Looking at Supergirl was the equivalent to a splinter under a fingernail. Painfully irritating. There was righteousness in the way she held herself, reckless action in the clench of her jaw, rebellion in the shine of her eyes. It made Yizhuo want to stand taller, made her want to rashly challenge whatever made Uchinaga tick.
“Help Robin. I’m stopping that boat,” The dark vigilante spat, authority in her words.
Where Yizhuo expected one, there was no argument.
The three heroes worked like a well-oiled machine, stopping the departing ship and the gang members in quick succession.
“We should come to Metropolis more often!” Hyunseo yelled out to Yizhuo, cheeks flushed with enthusiasm, a wide grin on her face, like it usually looked when they were crime-fighting. They did less of that together, now that Batgirl had taken over Burnside as her main area of operations.
“You guys can keep your rogues in Bat Central,” Uchinaga waved her hand, as if to do away with the idea.
Standing next to each other, Robin seemed to fit in next to Supergirl, with her bombastic red, green, and yellows painted across her suit. It was an odd sight. It made Yizhuo wonder if Hyunseo felt the same way— if maybe she and Supergirl would’ve made the better team.
No words were exchanged. But somehow, looking into Supergirl’s eyes, Yizhuo wasn’t so irritated anymore. They shared a nod, one that leveled the distance between them.
Yizhuo wasn’t surprised often. Though, maybe she could admit to herself that there were still some things she had yet to understand. There was a reason why Supergirl was a crime-fighter. She was capable, surprisingly.
“Hey, how do you know each other? Honestly, I didn’t even think you spoke to anyone outside of the Batcave,” Robin commented.
“‘Know’ is a little—”
“I don’t speak to her. Let’s go, we should be back in Gotham, patrolling.”
Hyunseo frowned. “You’re no fun.”
Batgirl stalked off without another word, feeling the odd need to escape.
“You’re welcome!” Supergirl called out.
Yizhuo could imagine the broad, smug smile across her lips.
—
If there was peace to be found in Gotham City, it was on Yizhuo’s bike.
Catharsis was close as the roaring, sleek, metal beast took corners so sharply that padded knees scraped the asphalt below; streaks of orange gunfire darted past the shadowed figure like fireworks on a starless night.
This was what she was good at. This was what she took pride in.
With well-timed clicks to the buttons on her handles, non-lethal rubber bullets spit from the front of her bike, cutting through the air to find their targets— the masked bikers that escorted the armored vehicle that chugged on ahead.
A rider bailed; their motorcycle skid down the lane, spitting sparks. Batgirl punched it, pulling back on the handlebars and hitting a button, launching her into the air. Coming back down, her tires hit the street with a heavy THUMP, the squealing of rubber following as she fishtailed, gaining traction on the wet asphalt.
Swinging bolas above her head, Batgirl let them fly from her grip, wrapping its target in hard wire, their bike flying out from beneath them.
Four left. Yizhuo’s eyes narrowed with focus.
Then— something she hadn’t accounted for.
Swerving, Yizhuo narrowly avoided the stray patch of ice that’d taken another bike down.
“Need any help?”
It would’ve startled her, but not much startled Yizhuo, not even the voice— the one that was slowly becoming familiar— at her left.
Supergirl flew beside her, keeping pace with her motorcycle. Short brown hair whipped through the cold wind; her expression was set and determined, eyes shining with eagerness. Her red and blue was an eyesore against the dark backdrop of Gotham.
That explained the random ice patch. Freeze breath.
Apparently, Supergirl did have the ability to hold back and not crash into any given situation like a Neanderthal, fists burning to punch anything that moved. In fact, she spoke to Yizhuo as if she were waiting for direction, or that… maybe she would leave if Yizhuo wished, which was an odd thought that Yizhuo wasn’t inclined to believe.
Still, Yizhuo spoke, “Take the truck. I got the bikers.”
They made quick work of it.
In minutes, the motorcyclists were incapacitated and the armored truck was upended. The occupants of the vehicle sat on the sidewalk, back to back, a yield sign wrapped around their bodies as a make-shift restraint, courtesy of Supergirl.
Heavy combat boots thumped against asphalt.
“It’s lead-lined.” The super noted.
“I wouldn’t open it.” Yizhuo’s words stopped Supergirl’s curious hands in their tracks. They hovered above the door, solid steel as useless as paper against the woman. “They’re transporting precious materials. Minerals.” Batgirl gave Supergirl a look, sharp with words that were so obvious, she didn't need to read between the lines.
“That much Kryptonite? For what?”
“It’s of the red variety. Dealers are having a lot of fun selling it on the black market. Apparently, a lot of off-worlders like using the product. Doesn’t seem to have such a nice effect on Kryptonians.” Yizhuo latched a tracker onto the box, a failsafe, just in case.
Supergirl frowned at the box.
"I guess it was a good thing I was in town then." She hoisted the box over her shoulder, following Yizhuo, who climbed aboard her bike again.
"Just in town," Yizhuo spoke, words laced with incredulity.
She felt like she was being watched, almost, with the number of times they'd run into each other. Yizhuo always erred on the side of suspicion, though she doubted that Supergirl hid any malicious intent towards her. Uchinaga was too plain to read for that to be the case. Plain as the shifty eyes and posture that'd suddenly overtaken the woman.
“I... yeah. I wanted to try this restaurant out. Good, uh, Italian, I heard.”
Yizhuo wasn't nearly interested enough to dig into the clear lie, instead, she only said, "Follow me."
—
They should've seen it coming.
With the Justice League preoccupied, Earth was vulnerable, which only left the stragglers available to band together for an awkward makeshift team.
Batgirl didn't work with people, save for Batwoman and Robin, on occasion, Nightwing. They knew each other well enough not to step on each other’s toes; mutual understanding and respect were what their relationships were built off of.
But people were finicky, complicated.
Yizhuo certainly didn't do anything that she felt didn't necessitate her presence. Efficiency was always prioritized.
Unfortunately, in this case, efficiency looked like this—
Arms locked with Speedy, Batgirl used the momentum to swing her legs over, striking the automaton, once, twice, pushing it back. A blast of blue energy came from Blue Beetle’s— who’d passed overhead— whining arm cannon, slamming it back into brick, where its final moments were determined by a sharp shot; an explosive arrow lodged into its chestplate. Ducking behind her cape, she shrugged off the bits of metal debris that flew her way.
“We’re barely holding them back, we have to figure something out,” Speedy called out, letting another arrow fly.
Speedy was one of the only heroes that Yizhuo could stand. Seol Yoona was all business, as someone who’d been around longer than most of the younger generation of heroes and had the experience to handle the more intense situations.
“Be patient,” Yizhuo idly placated, poking around on her sequencer— the tool was the size of a flip-phone, across the screen data played out for the dark vigilante to scan.
Robots of unknown nature began to attack Central City, calling forth the presence of Batgirl, Supergirl, Speedy, Wonder Girl, and Blue Beetle. Slim pickings. Few things were known about their targets other than the fact that they were strong, fast, could fly, and they seemed set on nothing but destruction; which led Batgirl to believe that they were unthinking creatures. Automatons. They didn’t react to things. They only understood instruction. From who, Batgirl was working on that particular piece of the puzzle.
Then there was the issue of the power source— prying open the chest cavity revealed luminescent green, otherworldly, and undeniably Kryptonite.
Which led to—
Akin to a missile, Supergirl’s limp body flew overhead and straight into an apartment building, leveling four floors on impact.
An arrow lodged itself into the backplates of the robot that followed her descent, exploding and tearing it apart from the inside out.
Red and blue had barely been visible under steel and concrete.
Batgirl grunted, working to pull the heavy material away from the super’s unmoving form. It was annoyance that kept her moving quick, that warded away the strain on her muscles— annoyance because, of all things, Supergirl couldn’t die like this. Uselessly.
“H-hey,” Aeri attempted a grin, face now exposed through the wreckage. The expression was tired, as if it were a fight to keep the muscles in her face working. “Just… give me a sec… I-I’ll be good in a second. A minute. Just…”
Yizhuo had never seen her bleed before.
It was uncanny. It’d unsettled Yizhuo, as if she’d seen something she shouldn’t have been privy to.
Hoisting the once super woman up, Batgirl’s teeth jammed together at the sound of the girl’s pained, heaving breaths. Her arm shook around her shoulder— her whole body shook, as if she’d been dumped into a tundra with only the clothes on her back. All Yizhuo could smell was blood. Red soaked through the soft blues of her uniform, dribbled from her lips, streaked down her shoulder, flowing down the limp arm that’d stayed stationary by her side.
Yizhuo made her decision.
Handcuffs were snapped over Supergirl’s wrists.
“Wh— wait, what the fuck are you doing!?” Uchinaga’s struggle against the simple device only justified Yizhuo’s decision.
“What happened?” Blue Beetle stumbled to his feet, landing precariously beside the heroes. Wide, concerned eyes glanced at the handcuffs, back up to Supergirl, who struggled to stay upright. Yizhuo could still hear the fighting feet away from them in the ravaged heart of Central City; Wonder Girl’s lasso swinging through the air, Speedy’s arrows hitting metal, thunk, thunk, thunk.
“Take her somewhere safe. She’s going to die if she keeps going.”
“Get me out of these! Batgirl! What the fuck—!”
Blue Beetle nodded, grabbing Aeri’s arm.
Disbelief was heavy in the super’s glassy gaze. It corroded her; the once determined set in her jaw, the confidence in her stance now hollowed out.
Betrayal.
Unnecessary complications.
Yizhuo worked better alone.
The dark vigilante had a plan in motion. Kryptonite was the only trick up the hidden mastermind’s sleeve.
The device on Batgirl’s belt beeped, an indication that it’d gathered enough data to find the radio waves connecting the automatons to their master.
Clicking a button on her gauntlet, Yizhuo called out to her fellow crimefighter, “Speedy, you’re with me.” Her bike came zipping up next to her, engine purring, “We’re shutting this down.”
Toyman has been holed up in the basement of a condemned office building.
An array of EMP arrows placed around the perimeter of the building, the signal boosted by Batgirl’s tech, brought down the entire operation long enough to stop the automatons, even for a moment, before it hiccuped back on again. By that time, Batgirl had already made it into the building, and the program was terminated by her hand.
Within the mass of wires and blinking servers, Toyman, a disheveled, pudgy man in a pink and blue pinstriped suit that hadn’t seemed to have been changed in days, was held down by a heavy combat boot.
“Where’s your accomplice?” Batgirl questioned, words piercing through the voice changer.
“Accomp—? I-it’s just me! I swear!”
Yizhuo gritted her teeth.
Gloved hands twisted into the man’s lapels, pulling him to his feet and shoving him into a desk.
He was pitiful, hanging from Yizhuo’s grip, fear mutilating his features.
Rage seared her veins. It wasn’t a familiar feeling. Ning Yizhuo was brought up to do and not think, not feel.
Of course, she’d broken that rule too many times to count.
It was pride that came to her when she passed another trial under the League of Assassins’ tutelage. It was horror when she’d killed someone for the first time. It was hope when she’d found Jimin.
Blinding rage.
Maybe that’s what this was.
When she looked at the man’s face— the audacity to cry and beg as Yizhuo twisted his arm to the point of breaking. It was a wall of red in her vision that made the punisher come to the surface again. The want to take control through pain and sorrow. It was so easy.
She’d had her suspicions when the automatons arrived, seeming to single out Supergirl. Wreaking havoc, not for a team of misfits to come together, but to capture the attention of one particular hero. Automatons powered by Kryptonite. All of this happened to occur when Superwoman was away. Supergirl was less seasoned, less level-headed than her cousin.
If Toyman wanted— if he were competent enough, it would’ve been possible for him to take Supergirl away, to beat her to a pulp, to experiment on her. To kill her.
But Yizhuo was there.
They hadn’t accounted for that.
“You got the Kryptonite from someone,” Batgirl accused. She put more weight on the man’s arm.
“I-I was given it, yes! A present! It was a present! My children were my creation, all mine!” He rambled.
The servers beeped and wailed, imitating their creator.
She believed it. Toyman always had a bit of a fixation on Superwoman. The opportunity was ripe. He took it. Understanding didn’t make Yizhuo feel any calmer.
“Hey!” Speedy skid into the room. Her eyes were wide, flitting from Yizhuo’s hands, still holding Toyman down, to Yizhuo’s face, sunken in shadow. “Batgirl…” Her words were careful.
Quiet rage still running through her like fire burning up frayed rope, Yizhuo slammed Toymaker to the ground, making sure he wouldn’t wake up for a good few hours.
—
Warning sirens rattled the submarine’s flooding cabin.
The water pressure nearly sent Batgirl tumbling through the cramped space.
Over her shoulder, an incapacitated criminal hung, abandoned by his colleagues and left for death.
Penguin’s men had gotten ahold of a submarine— Yizhuo had her educated guesses as to why, and sneaking aboard would’ve given her that information. As predicted, gunfire and underwater submersibles didn’t go well together.
Batgirl would’ve been out of the hunk of metal too if her scanners hadn't caught the heat signature of a body on the other end of the vessel.
Now the water was up to her neck.
Yizhuo fought to move forward, spitting out water as it crashed against her, threatening to completely pull her underneath. The ladder was in sight. Her muscles burned, even through the freezing chill that penetrated her insulated suit.
Just a bit more.
Just a bit—
The sound was deafening.
It was instantaneous. Water rushed in from all sides, and suddenly, she’d lost her spatial orientation. Her shoulder hit something while she was tossed through the cabin, sight blurred.
Her hands flailed, slow through the heavy water, feeling for anything.
Then—
The ground was firm beneath her hands and knees.
Fire seared the lining of her lungs as she leaned forward and coughed out water, gagging on the bits that clung to her insides.
Something heavy settled over her shoulders.
When she’d caught her breath, her eyes blinked open to red. Bright red. The fabric cascaded down and pooled near her hands and knees like velvet across the wooden planks. She was on a pier.
“Someone else was—” Yizhuo’s voice was ragged, every word a struggle to leave her cold lips.
“I got him.”
A hand settled on her shoulder, as warm as the voice that greeted her ears.
Aeri’s eyes were restless, bouncing over Yizhuo’s form, then settling somewhere in the middle for a long moment.
Yizhuo returned her intense stare.
The super broke away first, glancing down, then away, her cheeks colored a slight pink. The dark vigilante lingered on it, far too fleeting to garner much of an understanding. It was so unlike the brute Yizhuo thought she was familiar with.
“I was just… just checking for water in your lungs.”
Despite the intensity Yizhuo had endured, Gotham Harbor’s waters were calm now, nearly pitch black under the waning moonlight. The criminal they’d saved sat, slumped against a light pole. Around his wrists were a pair of Yizhuo’s cuffs. Aeri must’ve grabbed them off of her belt.
“I’m fine.”
Aeri rolled her eyes. “You really don’t know how to ask for help, do you? You got a handle on everything, huh? Even when you’re drowning to death in a fucking metal tube. I’m surprised, with the size of your ego, you didn’t sink straight down to the bottom—”
“Thank you.”
Aeri froze. Her brows furrowed.
“Whatever,” she scoffed.
Even through her anger, plain as ever, Yizhuo could see the hurt in Aeri’s eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
Yizhuo had taken down Toyman. She’d done the right thing and she’d been proven right by the fact that everything had played out as well as it did. Aeri lived. Central City was saved.
Still.
Her apology was a compulsion. It was a tangled ball of weight settled in her chest— it only grew heavier the longer she looked at Aeri, at that defeated expression, at the betrayal that still tainted the air between them, like lingering smoke.
“Look, I know you think I’m just a big idiot that rushes into things, but I can take care of myself—”
“That’s not it.”
Aeri quieted.
“You wouldn’t have stopped. That’s why I did it.”
“You could’ve died too.”
Yizhuo stayed silent. Water trickled down her chin and fell onto the red fabric, still draped around her shoulders. She watched the material darken.
She could’ve.
That was neither here nor there. She knew that. Of course she knew that. She also knew that Aeri had signed up for the same thing that Yizhuo had. So, why did it bother her so much, the thought of Aeri dying to the very thing they dedicated such a large part of themselves to?
"I know." Was all Yizhuo could summon as a response.
Somehow, it seemed like it was enough for Aeri, whose gaze softened, still as transparent as the night they met. Yizhuo could see it, the way Aeri's walls crumbled again, as if just waiting for the okay from Yizhuo, that is, if Yizhuo were naive enough to think that were the case.
"Sakura was right. You bat-types really are bad with emotions."
Yizhuo blinked, unsure of whether she should've felt offended or not. Jimin wasn't so bad with her emotions, just... odd. Hyunseo and Yujin, on the other hand, were as close to normal as crime-fighting orphans could get.
"I'm teasing.”
"I… know."
"Hey…” Aeri began, "You wanna grab coffee or something?"
She didn't want coffee, but still, she lingered.
From a rooftop, she watched Supergirl approach the twenty-four-hour convenience store. A little girl who had no business being awake so early had stopped her. She grabbed Supergirl’s hand— her fingertips, she was too small to manage anything else— and bounced excitedly at the sight of the hero. In her other hand, she held a cardboard sign; Yizhuo couldn't read it from her perch, but she could already assume the words that'd been stenciled on the other side, the reason why she lingered at the street corner. Her mother, maybe, had come back to take her away, and nodded at Aeri with a pleasant smile, before leaving the super to herself.
Before, she would’ve thought that Supergirl enjoyed the spotlight; that she enjoyed being the one to bear the bright red beacon on her chest, that she enjoyed being righteous and graciously accepted the laurels that citizens were eager to hand her, as they did her cousin.
Yizhuo wasn’t sure she would’ve ever anticipated the opposite to be the case.
That Aeri looked so awkward and out of place amongst people with a stiff, uncomfortable smile, and lips that barely moved to speak.
The reality was, Supergirl was in an odd position.
She was another Superwoman, as far as the public was concerned. Citizens walked up to her without much regard for the woman wearing the suit— it was the suit itself that they wanted to speak to, that they wanted to hug and thank and fawn over.
It was in direct contrast to Batwoman and company, who were more myth than anything.
Supergirl seemed to fall somewhere in between. There was an awkwardness to her perceived role of Superwoman’s probable successor.
Objectively, Batgirl and Supergirl’s roles weren’t so different.
But Yizhuo felt different, set apart even from her own bat kin. She felt like a punisher sent out of hell, roaming the streets, looking to pay for her misdeeds, if only she could take down those who wished they were as devilish as she was.
She constantly paid for her upbringing— for the assassins that brought her up, who made her believe that her life was destined to bring death and nothing more. She was nothing. And then she was suddenly a person with a symbol to carry.
Yizhuo wondered if Aeri felt similarly. That the symbol on her chest was something she strived towards rather than something she could ever be, something that she could ever uphold that her cousin so easily seemed to do.
Yizhuo wondered if she knew that she already did uphold it, as she watched the super rush out of the convenience store to find that little girl and her mother, still on the corner. The red and blue hero knelt down to speak to the girl again, handing over a full grocery bag, huge in too-small hands of a child who’d seen too much in their too-short life.
The sound of fabric fluttering in the wind cued Supergirl’s appearance. A cup was placed on the building’s ledge, steam curling from the lid.
“I got you hot chocolate. I wasn't sure if you drank coffee, like, maybe that's a dietary thing. That seems like that'd be a thing for you guys, y'know.”
Yizhuo thought about Nightwing and the excess energy drinks Yujin would consume during her day job as a cop.
“That’s… fine.”
Yizhuo considered leaving it on that ledge. It was nearing morning. Her patrol could technically be over by this point; the police scanner was suspiciously quiet in her ears.
Still, she lingered.
And she watched Aeri sit, happily sipping her drink, legs swinging idly— Yizhuo wondered if she even noticed that she was doing it.
She grabbed the cup.
—
Sounds of the gala were muffled through the balcony’s french doors.
Yizhuo leaned against the concrete banister, watching the hands tick on her watch. She usually stayed an hour when she was invited to an event by Jimin. Her attendance was never required, it was a courtesy extension each time, always with Jimin silently hoping with her eyes that Yizhuo would say yes, that they would come as the family unit that Jimin wanted them to be— Hyunseo, Yujin, and Yizhuo.
Wonyoung had even appeared this time, arm looped through Yujin’s. Batgirl had gotten in a fight with her Huntress persona not too long ago. Yizhuo figured she and Yujin had squashed whatever that rough patch was.
For Yizhuo, it was about repayment. Jimin never expected anything from Yizhuo, yet, she couldn’t help but feel that she didn’t ever do enough to deserve the kindness that Jimin always extended to her.
So, she’d be there. If Jimin wanted her there, she’d make the appearance long enough to not disappoint, and she’d leave just as easily.
“You got room for two to brood?”
That voice.
Uchinaga Aeri held herself smaller than Supergirl, buried under a sports coat, an oversized white button-up underneath, tucked into equally baggy grey slacks. Reflexively, she pushed her glasses up her nose— big, boxy, black frames.
It was striking how differently Supergirl looked as Aeri.
Yizhuo had seen her vulnerable before— seen her characteristics forcefully stripped away until she was nothing but mere mortal, close to death.
But this wasn’t the same.
This version of her was softer; like all of the edges of Supergirl had been filed down to leave the woman behind the bravado and confidence that the red and blue gave her.
“So, uh, needed a breather?” Aeri asked. “I don’t blame you, it’s pretty crowded down there. And a little scary. I mean, so many rich people. No offense.”
Yizhuo had no idea how to respond to the barrage of words. She took a moment, watching Aeri awkwardly shuffle in place, seemingly unable to find a comfortable way to stand.
“Looks like you needed one too.”
“Oh, I mean, I was kind of looking for—” Aeri cut herself off. “It’s just… I came up here because I heard…”
Aeri seemed to be stalling, awkwardly flicking a button on her shirt.
"...your heartbeat..." She finally muttered. Her shoulders nearly came up to her jawline, as if she were trying to hide behind her own body.
She recognized Yizhuo's heartbeat.
Yizhuo didn't know what to make of it, other than the fact that, something like that may have seemed too familiar to her, too uncomfortable because of how easily Aeri could peel back the layers of a persona that Yizhuo had carefully crafted. Even though all of this was true, the only conclusion Yizhuo could reach was that she didn't feel uncomfortable. If anything, she felt confused. Then, intrigued.
"But uh, yeah, anyway, I mean, everyone's heartbeat is a little different, so, yeah. You look nice."
Yizhuo knew she looked nice.
If Aeri was soft, Yizhuo was sharp.
Jet black hair cut at her jawline, sleek black dress that hugged her body close, back exposed through an opening that dipped dangerously low to her tailbone.
It was part of the act; crafted to look like the mysterious, rich kid that she was, graciously taken in by Yu Jimin of Yu Enterprises. She was to be fawned after, she was to be a little mysterious, and, naturally, wanted.
All of this was true, but it was also true that Yizhuo wasn't familiar with the earnestness in Aeri's compliment. It wasn't probing for an interview, it wasn’t for the sake of gaining something. It was Aeri, fumbling through her words, like she couldn't single-handedly uproot an entire building. There was something about that simple fact that made Yizhuo linger in the compliment.
"I'm surprised they let you through the front door," was Yizhuo's less-than-sweet answer. Aeri tugged at her collar. It'd be wrinkled by the end of the night if she kept at it. It made Yizhuo want to grab her hand and make her stop. Instead, she said, "You look fine."
"I guess fine's better than bad." She sheepishly chuckled.
"You look better than bad. Just... out of place."
Aeri didn't belong in Gotham, amongst the architecture torn out of gothic nightmares, or the superfluous opulence that chattered beneath their feet in the form of crystal chandeliers and polished gold centerpieces.
"Yeah, tell me about it. Sakura said it’d be good exposure for me to tag along. I think I’m just getting in her way, honestly. She’s too nice to say anything.” Aeri laughed.
Yizhuo eyed the press badge that hung from Aeri’s neck. “You’re with the Planet?”
“Oh,” Aeri grabbed the lanyard, “no, just a guest. I mean, Kkura told me that she can get me through the door when I graduate from Met U. I’m, uh, thinking about it.”
It was an odd reminder that, outside of their “extracurriculars”, Aeri led a relatively normal life, like her cousin. Yizhuo wondered what it looked like.
“Seems like writing’s a Kryptonian trait.”
The super laughed. “Uh, maybe just between me and Kkura. The House of El were scientists, actually. Great ones.” She rubbed at her neck, then, as if something abruptly came to mind, she began to shuffle her coat off.
Yizhuo stood, nearly stunned to silence as Aeri draped it over her shoulders, enveloping her in warmth.
“You looked cold,” the taller woman explained. “I don’t even feel the… uh,” she waved her hand around, “y’know, weather, and, whatever.” She cleared her throat. “I met Yujin. She seems cool. Her girlfriend’s kind of scary.”
Yizhuo nodded, still feeling a bit of whiplash from what had just occurred. Her fingers curled around the lapels of the coat, pulling it closer. Aeri smelled like clean linen and flowers. It cut through Yizhuo’s own perfume; warm and woodsy.
“Not too close with her?” Aeri carefully skirted.
“Yujin’s busy doing her own thing most of the time. I am too.”
“Right. I get it.” Aeri pursed her lips and nodded, looking far off in the distance. “I remember, back when I arrived here… I don’t know how much you know about… all that.” Aeri coughed out an awkward laugh.
Much like her cousin, Aeri was sent to Earth when Krypton met its demise. She was sixteen.
Yizhuo knew the basics, that was, whatever was in the Batcomputer’s files. She’d searched Supergirl up in the database. Up until this point, Yizhuo still wasn’t sure why she’d done it.
“But, uh, Sakura just took me in. Like, from the get-go. That was it. I landed and Sakura was there. And she was so patient and… giving. I had no clue what to do with all of it.” Aeri still hadn’t looked her way. Yizhuo traced the contours of her profile, highlighted by moonlight; caught the way her fingers incessantly tapped the balcony bannister. “I was so angry. I was the last person alive to grieve something that, as far as Earth’s lifespan was concerned, was a blip. Nothing. I felt so alone. And I hated Sakura. I hated that she didn’t have to go through what I did, and that she had a life outside of it all. She had parents and a home. But she didn’t stop loving me. She let me yell and cry and run away half a dozen times, and she still loved me.”
“What changed?”
Finally, chocolate brown eyes fell upon Yizhuo. A crooked smile graced pink lips, shiny with lip gloss.
“Kryptonians escaped from the Phantom Zone. Two of them. They almost killed Sakura. I chose her over them. That was it. Sent them back into the Phantom Zone and… I couldn’t do it anymore. It was like the fight left me. And I thought about how much I didn't want to lose her, and how, through it all, I couldn’t believe how much time I’d wasted on being angry or tangled in guilt over being able to do nothing about the things I’d lost, but I could try my best to make sure the same thing didn't happen to my cousin. And I could do my best to make sure that no one had to go through what I went through. That’s what mattered now.”
Yizhuo had gotten it wrong.
This wasn’t a version of Aeri. It wasn’t another face that Supergirl wore to shroud her true colors.
It was Aeri. It was Supergirl.
Silence lingered between them, heavy and poignant with Aeri’s words.
“They’re family.” Yizhuo finally spoke. “Yujin, Hyunseo, Jimin. They’re a real family. I don’t think I could ever understand that.”
A shoulder pressed against her own. She hadn't realized they'd been so close. Even through the coat, Yizhuo could feel how warm Aeri was.
“What’s there to understand? If they love you and you love them, I think that’s as simple as it can get.”
It was naive.
Yizhuo didn’t expect anything else from Aeri. Something about that was almost comforting.
Aeri perked to attention, looking somewhere past the balcony doors and concrete.
“Uh, Sakura’s calling me. I gotta split,” Aeri awkwardly backed up to the doors, waving all the while, “I’ll talk to you later? Maybe? Or, I’ll see you when I see you, I mean.”
“Bye, Aeri.”
Aeri blinked. “You’ve never said my name before.” She adjusted her useless glasses.
“You’ve never said my name before.”
“Bye, Ning Yizhuo,” Aeri shot back, brow raised, before slipping back into the building.
Only a moment later did Yizhuo realize that Aeri had forgotten her coat.
Greedily, she tangled her fingers into the material, holding on just a bit longer.
—
The sewers were unidentifiable. Concrete and metal piping were replaced by thick ice walls and sharp icicles that crept down from the ceiling, like fingers, reaching to engulf the entrapped Bat and young gang member.
Their steps echoed through the corridor as they attempted to find a way out.
“I’m sorry,” the girl mumbled, “this is all my fault.”
“It’s not,” came Yizhuo’s easy reply, “you don’t know any better.”
It was the girl’s rash actions that brought them below the surface, where Batgirl’s signal was effectively jammed, leaving trapped in unknown territory for longer than Yizhuo would’ve liked. She’d been through worse. She’d gotten through worse. Not much could faze her by this point in her life.
It was a bank heist; simple, telegraphed like a wind-up to a punch.
Yizhuo hadn’t accounted for the stolen Mr. Freeze gear. One of the unfortunate drawbacks of Gotham’s large rogues’ gallery— of course, not counting the fact that they were a rogues’ gallery— were the leftovers. The things that came after, that came as a result of their fun stints of chaos. They’d leave new technology for gangs to have a go with, new ideas to fail to replicate, a lot more headaches for the vigilantes.
She’d stopped the initial heist, not accounting for the sudden earthquake that’d nearly knocked her off of her feet.
It wasn’t an earthquake. It was a four-ton machine drilling through miles of concrete, called forth to save the little band of thieves.
They were clearly more than trigger-happy to use their new toys, if they felt a bank heist of all things was the best occasion for such a scene.
Yizhuo found herself chasing after them, zooming through the tunnels on her bike to find the new hide-out they’d carved into the sewer system like an overeager child with a plastic shovel and a beach full of wet sand.
At the center of that hideout, Yizhuo had confronted them— it should’ve been easy. There was a kid though, she couldn’t have been older than sixteen. She’d chosen the worst time to grow a conscience and throw herself in front of Yizhuo— Yizhuo wondered if she’d seen death before. She figured the answer was no, if she’d reacted like that. A batarang straight into the barrel of the ice ray had saved them both; the ray had swooped towards the ceiling, uncontrolled by the stunned user, and brought the whole thing down, causing the platform below them to crumble. The shoddily built maze-like hideout was structurally unsound— the vigilante would have never guessed.
Through the rubble, Batgirl was left with the young criminal, protected by Yizhuo’s cape, somewhere deep in the crevices underneath the boroughs of Burnside.
“Is Supergirl coming?”
The question had turned the criminal into a little girl again, wide-eyed with that familiar hope that Yizhuo had become used to seeing in citizens who’d be swept off their feet at the sight of the “S” emblazoned across a chest.
Gone were the flames of anger that licked at the insides of her irises.
When Yizhuo looked at her, she wondered how many mistakes she’d made by that point in her life. By sixteen, she’d already killed. By sixteen, she’d already led missions that ended in destruction and grief. By eighteen, she’d found Jimin with the sole purpose of telling her about the League’s plans to overtake Gotham. She only knew her as Batwoman then. She stayed by her side ever since.
The vigilante looked into eyes that reflected her image back— a black void, stark against icy white.
How many sins did the girl carry around in her pockets before Yizhuo had crossed paths with her?
“It’s just… I’ve seen the pictures of her in Gotham. A-and people say that she’s been here a lot. So… I mean, maybe she wouldn’t even want to save me.” The girl adjusted her parka; nylon rubbed, the sound bounced off of the cold walls.
“Let’s just focus on getting out of here.”
Yizhuo thought about how Supergirl would handle this. She would’ve been better suited for it. Not that she was a great conversationalist— she wasn’t, not much more than Yizhuo. But she was a symbol. Yizhuo didn’t represent much of anything, except for the promise of pain delivered to those who deserved it.
The last thing they would see was myth in action— darkness surging forth, a glint of gold outlining the bat emblazoned across a chestplate, sharp eyes hidden in shadow that struck deep, inescapable fear.
The kid didn’t need that right now.
“Why did you save me? I-I thought you hurt people like me.”
“Kids?”
“I’m a criminal.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“See, you say that but I know exactly what I am. I-I don’t have anything. I mean, I think about my—” Agitated, she shook her head. “There’s nothing for me. And my brother’s in it, so—”
“You’re not your brother. It’s rash to treat the unknown as if it’s truth.”
The girl grew quiet. The fur lining of her hood nearly covered the round, ruddy features of her face.
“What’s your name?”
“Chaeyeon.”
“Chaeyeon… you jumped in front of me back there. Why?”
The girl looked down at her boots. Her hands were small, tucked into thick, holey gloves.
“I didn’t want you to die. I… I didn’t even know they were doing all this. I didn’t even think they’d try to… do that to you. They told me we’d just grab the money, that’s it.”
It was foolish. Incredibly so. But Yizhuo didn’t think about it much either, the way she was raised. Concepts were divorced from reality. It was jarring to be met with the real thing, even when someone thinks they know everything.
“You made a choice.” Round eyes looked up at her again. “You could’ve made any other choice. But you made this one. You saved your life and mine. Remember that.” Yizhuo turned away.
“Th-there’s a safe.” The dark vigilante stared at the girl, waiting for an explanation. Her shaky voice continued, “Near the outskirts of the city, by the old chemical factories, there’s this old walk-in safe in one of those buildings. W-we’d drop things off there, but I never went inside. We weren’t allowed, the newbies and, y’know, whoever wasn’t in charge. I just saw the safe. I think… maybe that’s an entrance to down here.”
A mental note was made to fully explore the depths of the tunnels; Yizhuo feared that they’d gone unnoticed far too long if they stretched so far out and down. Judging the distance they’d traveled, Yizhuo spoke, “We shouldn’t be far then.”
They weren’t far at all.
Just as Yizhuo suspected, the gang members really were just a bunch of meatheads that happened to get their hands on technology that they had no clue how to operate.
Taking out the guards on duty, Yizhuo managed to get Chaeyeon out of the building.
“Go home. The police will be coming.” And Yizhuo seemed to have a full night of investigation on her hands.
“Just like that? Y-you’re just letting me leave? Even after…”
Batgirl placed a hand on the girl’s arm.
“Go home.”
Chaeyeon practically rammed into Yizhuo’s side, winding her arms tight around her middle.
“Thank you,” she spoke sincerely, words thick with emotion.
The vigilante placed a hand on her back, gentle.
Hope, she’d thought.
It was hope, burrowed deep in the girl’s words, deep in the small hands that were tangled in her cape.
—
Feet padded against kitchen tile, closely followed by a set of paws.
“Sit,” Yizhuo commanded.
Ace obeyed, staying at her side. The Doberman’s attentive round eyes watched as Yizhuo stirred food in the pan.
Batwoman and Robin were on an away mission, which left Yizhuo to take care of Ace. Yizhuo had forgotten how much she enjoyed the dog’s company.
The dog caught the piece of chicken Yizhuo had tossed his way; a token of gratitude for helping her while patrolling.
Yizhuo had taken up cooking when she got her own place, away from Yu Manor. It was relaxing— the rhythm of chopping, stirring; the organization that came with prepping and cleaning as she went; the white noise of sizzling blanketing her own quiet humming.
Tonight, an unfamiliar sound pierced the veil of peace.
Her phone buzzed, sliding it along the granite counter top. Yizhuo wasn’t used to getting texts, let alone calls. Her phone was next to useless to her, but she kept it anyway, for emergencies.
Though, in the last month, Yizhuo had begun to anticipate the same name flashing across her screen.
“Oh, hey! You’re not sleeping?”
The warmth of Aeri’s voice carried through the phone line. Yizhuo couldn’t help but think that she didn’t mind the sound of it in between the motions of cooking. Sometime at the end of one of the many instances that Supergirl had found herself in Gotham City, Aeri had asked for her number, in the case that a situation were to arise. For reasons unbeknownst to herself, Yizhuo hadn’t fought it, opting to simply say that the Batcomputer had Aeri’s number on file.
She could’ve ended it there; could’ve just ignored Aeri’s request and never put her number into her phone. But she didn’t.
“Neither are you, apparently.”
“I had to open the store today. My coworker’s out sick, so it's quiet right now. I’m just doing inventory and stuff.” Aeri worked at a bookstore part-time, taking shifts when she had the time between classes. The super had explained this all to Yizhuo while on patrol.
Yizhuo had come to learn that it was easy to get Aeri talking. Ask the right questions and she’d keep going until she ran out of interconnected facts and anecdotes. Yizhuo never stopped her anyway. She liked asking questions; liked knowing. Curiosity burned at her and Yizhuo did nothing to fight it.
“Quiet is good.”
Aeri chuckled. “Yeah, I mean, I guess it’s better than the city being under attack. I think I’ll just write all day, maybe.”
“What’re you writing?” Yizhuo stirred the chopped vegetables in the pan. Ace circled her legs, pawing for another treat.
“Poetry.”
“About?”
“Ah, boring stuff. Life.” She hesitated. “Krypton.”
Yizhuo hummed.
Of all things that Aeri talked about, home was something that was rarely broached, save for when she spoke about Sakura. So, Yizhuo let the silence brew over the line, giving Aeri the choice.
“I keep it vague. Sometimes, I talk about the weather. My favorite kind. When it was mild and the breeze was soft and gentle, and how it'd flutter through blue and red leaves. Or how cold the lake water, just a few miles past my house, would be against my feet, and how the rocks looked like crystals and if you held them against the sun color would just explode out of them.
“Or my parents. How much the sound of a laugh can carve itself into your bones, or the look of crows' feet and a wide smile can never be erased from memory. Even if sometimes I'm afraid I'll wake up one day and realize that I can't remember what my mom’s hands felt like in my hair. Or how my dad would always hug me extra tight when I’d leave for school in the mornings.”
It was quiet on the other end of the line.
“You still with me?” The words were like feet tapping on an icy lake, checking the thickness for fear that they might go under and never come back.
“I am.” Yizhuo scratched between Ace’s ears and thought about the last time she’d seen Jimin, and how maybe it was time to visit again. “I’d like to read some. Your poetry.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
Yizhuo thought she could hear Aeri’s smile through the phone, broad and bright. Aeri was right. Those things really did carve themselves into bones.
—
Gloved hands slipped along the smooth surface of the plane’s wing.
Digging the fins of her gauntlets into the metal, Yizhuo halted, only for a moment, but there was no reprieve against the strong winds as they climbed higher and higher.
There was also the issue of the other person on the wing.
The serrated edge of a combat knife ripped into the metal beside her hand.
The woman’s smile was crazed, eyes round with devotion to her boss, who sat cozily inside of the plane carrying an arsenal that’d secure him even more blood money than he already had.
Batgirl grunted, flopping sideways to avoid a hit from the woman; left in the metal was an imprint of her knuckles. The criminal’s other knife jabbed forward, meeting the armored padding of Yizhuo’s palm— her fist closed around it, turning it and wresting it from the woman’s grip, where it plummeted to a quickly disappearing runway.
They were still pretty close to the ground— close enough that it wouldn’t kill to fall from this height. Possibly.
Prying her gauntlet away from the wing, Yizhuo used the momentum to twist and kick out. The thick sole of her boot slammed into the attacker’s chest, sending her flying. Quick, her grapple gun was deployed, securely latching itself to the criminal’s padded vest. Her other hand shot out, nearly missing the criminal’s knife, still jammed into the wing.
The vigilante’s grip tightened on the knife, feeling the blade begin to slip from its makeshift sheath— smoke rose from the grapple gun as the wire was yanked out of it, dropping the criminal closer to the ground, nearly close enough for Yizhuo to completely let go, sure she wouldn’t die.
All of this would’ve been marginally easier if she weren’t suddenly being shot at.
The door across the expanse of the wing had been tossed open, where several trigger-happy Black Mask thugs were more than eager to see to it that Batgirl be laid to rest.
A bullet grazed the top of her cowl, knocking her head back like a slap, dull, but definitely present.
An annoyed hiss left her lips.
There went her grapple gun, ripped from her grip in the chaos.
The knife slipped just that much more.
She could swing her arm up— it’d take a lot of strength, especially without the leverage, but if she could fight against the wind just enough to dig her gauntlets into the wing again—
It was quick— a stray bullet hit just beside the knife, enough to loosen the metal around it.
The wind punched Batgirl back, plunging her straight into airspace. The wind roared around her, whipping her cape furiously as she struggled to figure out up from down. No grapple gun. Plan B was to find some trees to fall into, which didn’t bode well for Yizhuo, seeing as Gotham was mostly concrete.
In the seconds it took for her to drop, her skydive was interrupted by firm arms pulling her into a bridal carry.
“Gotcha,” a warm voice spoke beside her ear.
Slightly winded, Yizhuo let out a disgruntled groan. “Could’ve been a little softer with the landing.”
“You mean softer than concrete?” Aeri shot back. “You couldn’t have waited a minute, by the way? I was literally right behind you!”
Black Mask’s capture wasn’t supposed to be complex. Batgirl had only intended on raiding his base of operations, wherein, thanks to some investigative work, she’d come to learn he’d been stashing an entire arsenal that, if distributed amongst his ranks, would turn Gotham into a warzone in minutes. Turning his entire warehouse upside down with Supergirl beside her, she’d only come to learn about the plane as it was in the midst of taking off.
“I know. That’s why I did it.”
Red dusted the super’s cheeks. As unlikely as it was, she seemed to struggle for words.
Maybe it was because of the plain message in Yizhuo’s easy words.
She relied on Aeri now.
It was an impossibly foreign concept. But at this point, she’d realized how, even with something as sacred as her rigid routines, as her well-thought-out drills, flexibility now existed for Aeri to exist within it all. And worse yet, she didn’t mind it at all. It was past utility, past efficiency. It was so clear that even someone like Aeri could probably see it, and Yizhuo couldn’t do a thing to hide it.
A slight cough preceded her words, “Alright, hang on.” The arms around her were needlessly careful, as if Yizhuo were something to be gentle with.
Ripping the tailgate of the cargo plane open, Batgirl and Supergirl landed inside, full well knowing that, between the two of them, they couldn’t be stopped.
—
Metropolis felt quieter than Gotham.
Even though Aeri lived in the downtown area, close to Met U, the red-brick-lined walls of her shoebox apartment felt insulated from the world outside.
Yizhuo shucked off her combat boots, careful not to track dirt in. Fall brought in heavy rain and Batgirl had no regard for cleanliness whilst crime-fighting.
A little grey cat came trotting to her, crying for food, no doubt, as if he didn’t know his feeding schedule, the same schedule Yizhuo had adhered to in the past week and a half of caring for him. Apparently, she was a pet-sitter now.
“Miss me, Cooper?” The vigilante cooed, scratching under the cat’s chin once she’d slipped her gloves off.
Padding through the apartment, fresh out of the shower, Yizhuo perused the bookshelf in the living room, stacked with well-loved, worn paperbacks. Curiosity got the better of her, and after first settling into Aeri’s apartment, she couldn’t help but snoop. A little bit. It was her natural state.
It felt unbearably intimate to be in the super’s space. The one-bedroom apartment was mundane. It was filled with reminders of the twenty-three-year-old that shared the other half of Supergirl’s life, from the textbooks under her coffee table to the backpack hanging from the coat hook at the front door, or the corkboard above her thrifted desk burdened with too many reminders and due dates.
Yizhuo felt like an outsider, a voyeur who’d snuck in under the guise of night in search of the simplest shred of understanding their fixation; so far removed from their world that their fingers would linger on the most dull of objects, a throw pillow, a TV remote, as if they’d spill their owner’s most intimate of secrets.
There was a hesitance, maybe a fear, that'd come over Yizhuo when she saw these unrecognizable features of the super woman. It'd all stack on top of each other, the insignificant things, the little things she wasn’t aware of. It’d all condense until the weight nearly had Yizhuo squeezing out the door and back to Gotham again. And then something would tip it back, something so small— the several cabinet knobs she’d yet to replace, no doubt broken due to her strength; or the collection of poetry, tabbed with notes scrawled along the margins— that'd align with Yizhuo's image of the woman. It'd settle in her chest like relief.
The crime-fighter sat down on the worn couch, a collection of Byron opened on her lap as she waited for the oven to warm for the dish she’d thrown together, hours before her patrol. She’d only gotten through three poems before she heard the quiet thump of feet landing on the balcony, followed by the door sliding open.
Supergirl’s suit had seen better days.
It was tattered in several places, edges scorched and cape nearly torn to ribbons in areas. Her face was dirty; streaked with black and ruddy, as if she’d stood outside in scorching summer heat for a bit too long, but it was the dead of fall, and Supergirl had just come back from space.
Her hair was tousled, probably from the quickness of her travel. Running a hand through it, her disheveled bangs flopped back down to her forehead.
Yizhuo couldn’t stop looking at her. She wasn’t sure if she was searching— maybe for a sign of something awry. Everything felt a little too easy about it all; about Aeri showing up, alive and well, smiling tiredly, after a week of disappearing to god knows where. But there she was, stumbling through her balcony door like she’d gone to grab groceries.
“Coopie!” The little cat seemed unfazed by his owner’s presence, opting to stay laying next to Yizhuo, licking his paws. The super frowned. “Gone for a week and he already replaced me. Typical. God, I’m tired,” she turned to fall onto the couch, only to be met with a hand at her back, forcing her to stand again.
She was solid and warm. Alive.
“You’re dirty.”
Aeri pouted. The familiar gesture sat cozily in Yizhuo’s chest. “I just wanna sit.”
“Shower first.”
“I can’t…”
“You have super speed, figure it out.”
Aeri stared at her. A smile twisted her lips. It was soft. Almost fond, Yizhuo felt. But she didn’t have time to linger on it before Aeri was gone in a blink, the sound of the bathroom door shutting and a shower running were the only clues that she’d even been standing in front of Yizhuo in the first place.
“Fine! You win!” She yelled from behind the door.
Yizhuo thought about her own towel hanging from the rack in Aeri's bathroom. Aeri would see it. She wondered what she'd think about it when she did.
Aeri stuffed her suit into a garbage bag with a grimace. “Gonna have to make a trip to the Fortress of Solitude for this mess.”
“How was the trip?”
“A lot.” Aeri settled onto the couch with a groan and stretched her arms behind her head. “But, it’s all good now. Everything’s settled. Worlds aren’t ending.” She picked Yizhuo’s discarded book up, a thoughtful look on her face. Yizhuo watched her leaf through it, thumbs lingering at the edges of the cover, softened by time.
“It’s a good one.”
Aeri glanced her way, abrupt, as if pulled from thought.
“Didn’t think you’d be into Byron.”
Yizhuo shrugged and turned away to pull the tray of food from the oven.
“This is nice,” Aeri sighed. “Coming home to someone, I mean.” She opened her eyes, gaze landing on Yizhuo for a long, quiet moment. “It’s nice.”
Yizhuo hummed, not quite knowing how to respond to that. She didn’t have a home base. She had her apartment and the manor. But her life always moved her around so often, there was no settling. Even now, Yizhuo couldn’t say if she had a particular attachment anywhere. She wasn’t sure if it was an inability to do so, or a withholding on her end. A part of her already knew the answer to that.
“It’s also nice having someone around to make you food,” Yizhuo quipped.
“That too.”
“You only had a bottle of mustard in your fridge when I got here.”
“Hey! I’m busy!” A mischievous smile pulled at her lips. She stood from the couch and paced towards the kitchen, leaning against the counter. “Speaking of busy… I heard a certain bat was patrolling the streets of Metropolis, putting the fear of god into everyone.”
Yizhuo shrugged. “Someone had to pick up the slack.”
Aeri’s expression softened. “Thank you.”
“It was convenient.” Yizhuo brushed off. She glanced the super’s way, unable to interpret the way the taller woman looked at her.
“I appreciate it anyway. Convenient or not.”
Yizhuo turned away again, busying herself with grabbing plates.
“You’re welcome.”
Behind her, the fridge opened. Aeri rustled through, coming out with a waterbottle.
“Hopefully, you won’t have to babysit Coop so often. I’m not really planning on leaving Earth so soon again.”
“Miss him too much?”
“Something like that.”
The distance had closed between them. Aeri tapped her fingers on the counter. “I used to leave more often. A lot more often. It was like I couldn’t wait to get away. But now… I like staying. I like being here. Around.”
Yizhuo felt the words resonate with her. She’d felt a similar shift in her own life. She wasn’t sure when or how it’d happened, but she lingered more.
She stayed at the batcave longer, just to hear Jimin and Hyunseo bicker, or to see Minjeong slip in to get under Jimin’s skin, or Yujin drop by to steal snacks or more gear because she’d broken another pair of escrima sticks. She’d say yes when asked to stay for dinner more often. She looked forward to the sound of her ringtone and even more so to the sound of Aeri’s voice on the other end.
The super’s hand stayed on the counter; it almost felt as if her fingers were reaching out. Yizhuo placed her own hand close, not quite touching.
“I think I know what you mean,” Yizhuo admitted.
Fingertips nearly touched the side of her hand.
“Are you leaving tonight?”
“I made dinner.”
“You did. Thank you.”
“I didn’t say it was for you.”
Aeri chuckled. Their hands touched now.
“Think we can patrol together later?”
The dark vigilante’s eyebrows rose. “Didn’t catch enough action out in space?”
Aeri shrugged. “It’s not as fun.”
The warmth of the sun was held between their palms, in the crevices of their intertwined fingers. The super’s thumb stroked her own— a gesture so small. Why, Yizhuo wondered, did it make her insides feel as if they’d shifted, as if her grapple gun had malfunctioned mid-flight and she’d taken a long, long fall back down. Except this wasn’t threatening. Her heart didn’t pump blood through her muscles to react to danger.
—
It was only a race to the bottom from the start of the fight.
They thought they’d been in the clear; Lena Luthor and Ultra-Humanite had been subdued, but the timer on the maniacal gorilla’s weapon— the world-killer as he’d dubbed it, made to wipe miles of land in the interest of rebuilding the world as he saw fit— still ticked down, unable to be disarmed.
Yizhuo knew before Aeri said a word.
“You’re gonna kill yourself,” she couldn’t help the way the words were hissed out between clenched teeth. They barely held back the pain that throbbed along her side. She’d broken something. Many things, surely. They barely held back the anger she felt towards Aeri; it was raw, it was desperate, it was scared.
It scared her, the way that Aeri looked at the weapon, jaw set, eyes determined, so stubborn, so stupid. Red was smeared across her face in scratches, dripping along her hairline.
It scared her, how her heart lurched at the idea of Aeri leaving with shards of Kryptonite still buried in her side; with Aeri breathing shallowly, like she was human, like she could die.
She could die.
She would die.
Aeri smiled crookedly at her.
“I have to go.”
Yizhuo knew.
She couldn’t argue.
She wanted to.
Yizhuo didn’t fuss. It wasn’t in her nature. Or nurture. She wasn’t taught to, so she never did. She never screamed or cried or yelled. The emotions were jarred and sealed, labeled accordingly, and accounted for when needed.
She didn’t know what to call this.
Her sternum had been shattered to pieces, exposing red, beating muscle, so vulnerable, so messy. She wanted to collapse to the floor. She wanted to squeeze Aeri’s hands so tight she couldn’t let go. She wanted to dig her heels in.
“Can't Sakura—?”
“She needs my help. I won't let her do it alone.”
Yizhuo pathetically bargained one life for another. She didn’t know who she was. But Aeri was right. Sakura had been hurt in the battle as well, more than likely in a similar state to her cousin. Batwoman was the only other hero accounted for, and her and Yizhuo’s usefulness had run out the second they realized that they couldn’t stop the doomsday clock.
Careful fingers caressed her cheek, as if she were made of glass. Her cowl had been damaged, exposing the sharp ends of her hair, where it brushed her jawline, and the bridge of her nose, caked with red.
“Yizhuo,” Aeri whispered.
The simple call of her name shielded them from the chaos; it was like diving underwater, where the world was muffled and smeared into something softer.
The vigilante’s good hand curled around Aeri’s wrist.
“Okay,” Yizhuo nodded.
Soft, chapped lips pressed against hers. It was gentle, like a hand hold, one that conveyed promise and comfort.
Yizhuo wished she could bask in the simplicity of it. She wished she didn't feel as if she were about to have something torn away from her; she itched to do more than this, to share more than a simple gesture.
She pushed forward— pushed herself harder into the kiss, pushed to make Aeri's hold tighter, more tangible. It was desperation that drove her deeper into Aeri, as if she could blend them and make sure that she'd never leave, she'd always be here, tangled with Yizhuo.
“I’ll come back,” Aeri rasped.
Coffee brown eyes held her with the same importance felt in the hand at her waist, the hand at her cheek, the thumb that swiped over the skin exposed by a battle-damaged cowl.
Fighting down the emotion that threatened to crawl up her throat, Yizhuo watched Aeri and Sakura lift the device and disappear into the atmosphere.
Aeri never said how she’d come back.
To the naked eye, it was a comet streaking through the sky in an explosion of orange and blues. Yizhuo knew as soon as she saw it. As if she’d been the one falling to Earth, she felt the searing pain of fire running through her; she felt every bit of the impact that shook the ground beneath her unsteady feet.
Batgirl was the first to reach Supergirl.
Her skin was clammy to the touch, paler than should have been possible. Beneath her eyelids, her eyes moved rapidly, as if fighting to escape. The red beacon upon her chest rose and fell with strained breaths, one of the only signs that life was still to be found within.
A frenzy of thoughts flitted in and out of Yizhuo’s mind.
The worst scenarios she could possibly conjure.
Nothing was worse than this.
A useless hand hovered over Aeri, frozen by indecision, frozen by fear. It stuck to her bones, kept her teeth jammed together. Of all times. Out of every single trial she’d been thrown into her entire life. Out of every single time death had threatened her, had its skeletal hand poised at the door.
For the first time, Yizhuo had no idea what to do.
Her throat burned.
“A-Aeri,” Yizhuo croaked, like a lost child.
A gust of wind made her cape flutter.
“I’ll take her.”
Superwoman wasn’t in much better shape. She was pallid, clearly affected by the radiation, but still she stood, a kind hand outstretched, voice patient.
She held Aeri in her arms like one would cradle a newborn.
“She’ll be okay,” Sakura assured her.
Yizhuo had no idea what to say to that.
She simply watched, frozen, as Superwoman boarded the Batwing, readied with coordinates punched in to the Fortress, Aeri limp in her arms, at the mercy of the cruelness of the world.
Jimin caught Yizhuo before she hit the ground, body exhausted and beat down from the day’s events.
Getting to the Batcave was a blur.
Two days had passed before Yizhuo felt remotely conscious again. Bandages wrapped around half of her body, accompanying the sling that held her left arm. It wasn’t broken, just a nasty sprain at the elbow, dislocated at the shoulder, but Yizhuo figured that it was slightly less inconvenient this way. Even if her entire body throbbed with every breath she took.
Jimin had argued that she should’ve stayed at the manor, even if just for another day, but Yizhuo’s mind kept her preoccupied. She wanted to move. Thoughts festered and dug into her, like infested wounds.
Red and blue invaded the folds of her brain. She was helpless to it.
Merciful silence had only settled over her brain when the sound of boots landed on her balcony.
“I told you I'd be back.”
A breeze combed through chocolate brown hair.
Yizhuo couldn't move.
Her eyes wouldn't leave the once tattered side of Supergirl's suit; it was flawless now, plain blue.
“I didn't mean to take so long. Sakura took me to the Fortress and it took a bit to pull all of the Kryptonite out. We had to go to the sun after. I was too weak to heal quickly like that, so…” Aeri trailed off.
Relief came in waves with every word spoken. Yizhuo couldn't stop staring at Aeri; at that familiar softness in her eyes, the strong posture she’d come to associate with the super— head held high, her lips.
Her lips.
“You kissed me.”
Aeri smiled, it was sheepish, almost guilty. “Bad timing.”
One unsteady step taken after another, Yizhuo pressed into Aeri's front. Her good arm snaked around her torso, holding as tightly as she could manage.
Ear against her chest, Yizhuo could hear her breathing, soft and steady. She felt firm and warm. Strong arms pulled her closer. Her suit was soft, like cotton.
“You're hurt.”
Yizhuo could imagine that particularly intent look Aeri would get when she was using her x-ray vision.
“It'll heal.”
A hand rubbed up and down her back. Yizhuo had never felt like this before. She couldn't do anything about it. She hadn't done anything about it. Every passing second, it'd bring her further and further in, like quicksand. Yizhuo could see it, she could feel it, and yet, she'd let it skirt her mind. Whether it was a secret want for it to happen, or carelessness, she couldn't tell.
In this moment, she only pressed further in.
“I love you. If that wasn't clear.” Aeri's words were sure, as if she were stating a simple fact. “I should've said that back there, just in case—”
Yizhuo halted her words, slotting their lips together like lock and key.
The very act was sweet, like sucking nectar from ripe fruit. Yizhuo was greedy for it; for the way Aeri's hand grabbed and clenched at her waist, softening only a moment after, as if remembering her own strength; for the way Aeri's sighs fanned against her wet lips.
“Sorry,” Aeri rasped.
The smaller woman glanced up— her confused gaze followed Aeri's down, to where the ground was, now a foot or so below them. Yizhuo had only been held up by Aeri's hands on her waist, her feet atop bright red boots, where she'd tiptoed up to find Aeri's lips.
“Can't help it,” Aeri bashfully explained as she gently brought them back down in a slow twirl. “I won't leave again,” the promise was whispered. The tip of her nose grazed Yizhuo's cheek, across bandages that stretched along mottled skin, down her jawline, where Aeri pressed another gentle kiss.
“You will,” Yizhuo traced the red insignia on the taller woman's chest. “It's okay. I will too, sometimes.”
“I'm good at finding you.”
Yizhuo rolled her eyes, unable to push down a fond smile.
“Unfortunately,” she quipped. “I thought you were following me, before we…”
“I…” Aeri halted, rubbed the back of her neck.
“You were.”
“A little.”
Yizhuo smirked. “I knew it.”
“Couldn't help it.” Came the same reply as earlier.
Yizhuo felt it too, the same urge. She couldn’t help it.
“I know. I didn't ask you to stop.”
“I won't, if you don't want me to.”
“What do you think?”
“I think I'd probably be in a ditch somewhere by now if you didn't want me around.”
“You're right.”
Maybe Yizhuo was too tired, or too hopped up on pain killers, to fight the hesitation that would normally keep her distant; instead she let the feeling take over, let her hand comb through Aeri’s forever unruly bangs. The super woman’s eyes fluttered shut at the touch.
Every brush of soft locks against her fingers grew heavier with the silent message of what Yizhuo had nearly lost— it was this, the simplicity of having Aeri in front of her.
A grip curled around her suddenly stationary hand.
Aeri’s eyes conveyed understanding that was somehow always there.
“You should rest,” Aeri urged.
“Rest with me then.”
Aeri glanced off into the distance, eyes busy with something Yizhuo couldn't see.
“Go,” the shorter woman nudged her shoulder.
The super looked back at her, expression unsure. Her arms hadn't moved from around Yizhuo's frame, as if even the idea of prying herself away were unsavory.
Yizhuo pointed her chin to the world outside of their little bubble— to the sun that had begun to rise and wash away the shadowed land of Gotham.
“Just come back.”
Aeri smiled.
“You know I will.”