#language barriers

The room buzzed with the usual tension of the siblings and Bruce Wayne gathered around a console, monitors flickering with tactical data and news feeds. Bruce was talking — again — calm, measured, and pacing through some debrief about patrols and Gotham’s shifting crime waves. Dick was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, smirking at whatever Tim had just said. Stephanie was scrolling through a tablet, muttering something about patterns in the streets.

Throughout all of the chatter and activity.. Jason wasn’t listening.

He stood by the edge of the room, helmet dangling from a few fingers, and his boot tapping the floor as his weight shifted from one side to another. His mind was somewhere else entirely. You. You were out there, somewhere in Gotham, wandering, oblivious, and probably doing something stupid because you of course didn't just sit still. He could practically see you poking puddles or sticking fingers down a grate, utterly unaware of the danger pressing in around you.

“Jason,” Bruce said, his voice low but sharp enough to snap a whip through the haze in Jason’s head. “Focus. We need your input on-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason muttered, waving a hand, not even looking at him. He rubbed at his temple, still picturing you in the middle of some alley with a strange man who you naively thought was kind. “I know what I’m doing.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “You do know what you’re doing, right? Or are you just pacing around muttering to yourself again?”

Jason gritted his teeth. “I’m not muttering. I’m keeping track, dickhead.”

Tim snorted. “Tracking what? You don’t even have your helmet on. You’re staring at the wall.”

Jason snapped his head toward him, voice low, deadly serious. “I’m tracking her. You don’t get it — you wouldn’t understand. Gotham’s a maze, and she’s out there somewhere, probably chasing shadows or—” He cut himself off, realizing he’d said too much, but not before Bruce’s sharp glance pinned him in place.

“Who?” Bruce asked. Cool, calculated. But Jason didn’t answer.

“Some... weird girl I found earlier. She’s out there,” he said instead, pointing vaguely toward the monitors as though they could somehow reach into the streets themselves. “She doesn’t know the city. She doesn’t know what she’s walking into. We've all seen the guys on those fucking streets. And Gotham itself will eat her alive."

“Jason,” Stephanie interrupted, eyes narrowed, voice sharp. “Are you serious right now?”

He shook his head, frustrated. “I’m dead serious. I can't just turn a blind eye.”

Dick leaned forward, smirking despite himself. “Let me get this straight... you’re ignoring Bruce — correction, Batman — ignoring the mission, and pacing like a caged animal because some girl is out wandering in Gotham like thousands of other people?”

Jason glared at him. “Not some girl. You don’t get it, you didn't see the way she just assumed that a pervert was trying to be nice, and the way she smiled when she saw an Open sign. She’s… she’s—” He stopped again in frustration, the right words failing him. “She’s… not careful, and she’s not scared, and she doesn’t even understand how dangerous it is out there."

“Jason,” Bruce said again, tone flat, precise, and cutting through everything. “The team is trying to coordinate. We need you focused. Now.”

Jason’s jaw clenched and his voice tightened in his throat. “I'm focused. Maybe I have a different goal in mind right now.”

Tim muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “You’re hopeless.”

Jason didn’t care. He stared at the monitors like they were a map of her movements, trying to figure out where you might have gone next. Every word from everyone around him just bounced off him. He wasn't sure himself why he was so invested in you...

He had met you for an hour at most, yet in that time your naivety and the way you saw nothing, but good things stunned him. It was concerning and abnormal. He couldn't handle the concept that someone was out there and he had to leave.. leave them to the danger of Gotham.

Jason leaned against the edge of the console, fingers flicking at the trackpad in hopes of something revealing itself, maybe some sort of . Dick crossed the room, arms folded, smirk playing at his lips, but his tone held more concern than teasing this time.

“You’ve been pacing the whole meeting,” Dick said, leaning against a railing beside him with an eyebrow quirked. “I get it.. Gotham’s dangerous, yeah. But it’s not like she’s your official responsibility.”

Jason bristled and looked at him with furrowed brows. “Not officially? I watched her walk into the middle of a fucking street like it’s a playground. You can’t just… not worry.”

Dick sighed, stepping closer, voice quieter now. “I get it, Jay. I do. But maybe you’re looking at it wrong. You’re so wound up about her wandering, about the streets and the chaos, but maybe she’s… different.”

Jason shot him a look, sharp. “Are you seriously trying to tell me not to be concerned about someone? She doesn’t know the city. She doesn’t know the people. She doesn’t know how it moves. One wrong turn and she’s gone.”

Dick’s eyes softened. “I’m not saying she’s not vulnerable. I’m saying maybe that’s why you’re so worried about her. You’ve seen too much, too much of Gotham tearing people apart, and you’ve seen what happens when someone gets lost, especially when someone can’t fight back.”

Jason clenched his jaw. “Exactly. I’ve seen it. And that’s why I’m not gonna let her be one of those stories.” His voice dropped a little, tighter now, rawer. “You think I’m overreacting,” Jason grumbled with an annoyed sigh, causing him to turn his shoulder a bit.

“I didn’t say that,” Dick replied, softer this time. He tilted his head, studying Jason the way he always did, like he was trying to read a book Jason hadn’t agreed to hand over. “I just want to know why. You’ve seen plenty of strays in Gotham. You don’t exactly play babysitter.”

Jason’s jaw worked, teeth grinding against the words he didn’t want to give up. But when he closed his eyes, all he saw was you—your wide-eyed way of staring at everything like the world was an endless puzzle, your complete lack of understanding when men cornered you, the way you obeyed him instantly when his voice snapped sharp with warning. Lost. Utterly lost. And Gotham wasn’t a city that forgave lost people.

“She didn’t get it,” Jason said at last, voice low. “Not the danger, not the… anything. Those guys—she thought they were trying to help her. And she just went with them. Like it was normal. Like—” He broke off, scowling, rubbing a hand across his mouth. “She doesn’t know how things work here, and I don't know where the hell she's from get her back because clearly she has no clue what anyone is saying.”

Dick didn’t interrupt. He just nodded slowly, letting Jason keep talking.

Jason pushed on, tone sharper, words spilling now that the wall had cracked. “And it’s Gotham, Dick. You can’t walk two blocks without someone trying to use you, scam you, kill you, whatever."

That got him a longer silence. Dick’s expression softened, the barest edge of a smile tugging at his mouth, not mocking, but something closer to understanding. “So it’s about Gotham,” he said finally. “You don’t trust the city not to crush her.”

Jason snorted. “Would you?”

“…No,” Dick admitted, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t.” He leaned forward, looking Jason in the eye again. “But Jason, you can’t carry that weight on your own. If she’s out there, we’ll find her. You don’t have to play the lone protector.”

Jason let out a dry laugh, humorless. “Yeah, tell that to the pit in my stomach. Feels like if I take my eyes off her for one second, she’ll disappear for good — which she alreadyfucking did.”

For a moment, the two brothers just sat there, the hum of the base filling the air around them. Dick didn’t press further, didn’t push him into saying more than he was ready to. Instead, he just let Jason breathe in that truth, heavy and unshakable, that he cared far more than he wanted to admit.

And Jason hated it. He hated how much he cared... because caring in Gotham was a death sentence.

Jason left the base not long after that talk with Dick, frustration still buzzing under his skin like a live wire. He didn’t care that Bruce had shot him a look or that Tim had muttered something about “always running off.” He needed to move, to do something other than sit around and wait for someone else to get to you first.

Gotham’s streets blurred under his tires as the Red Hood rode through the night, cutting out toward the edges of the city. If you’d been spooked by something or if you’d wandered off without understanding the danger, you might not have gone deeper into the chaos. Maybe instinct had told you to get away, or to push against the tide instead of sinking into it.

He hoped so.

You had walked for what felt like hours, following the faintest tug away from the noise gnawing at your senses. The sound wasn’t something most humans could detect, you picked up on that by the way no one else seemed to wince, to flinch, to clutch their ears the way you had. But to you it was unbearable, a piercing whine piercing beneath the city’s already chaotic pulse that was burrowing into your skull. It made it feel like every step deeper into Gotham was like walking into fire.

So you had turned your back on it.

The streets here were different. It was quieter, the neon had faded into the distance and been replaced by neon thinning into scattered bulbs and dim lamps, shadows stretching longer without the crowd’s constant movement to break them. A rusted fence sagged at your left, weeds bursting through the cracks in concrete. Taking a few short and delicate strides, your eyes lit up at the sight of the subtle green poking through. Of course, you bent to touch them, brushing your fingertips over the brittle stalks, fascinated that something so small could break through something so strong.

A squirrel began to skitter by, pausing at a pile of trash while gathering a crust of a pizza before taking off again. You watched it go, eyes wide, lips parting in something close to wonder.

You found other things too. A broken sign buzzing faintly against a brick wall, letters burned out until only half a word remained. A glass bottle discarded in the gutter, catching light in a way that sent fractured colors rippling across the ground. You picked it up, turning it in your hands, studying the way the light bent and twisted.

You rose from your crouch slowly, bottle still in hand, turning it over in the dim light like it held answers. You pressed your thumb against the glass, let out a wince more of shock than pain when your skin caught on the chipped edge. With a small frown you glanced at the wound in the light of the moon, and then back to the bottle. Your eyes lingered on your thumb watching as the light color that had seeped from the cut had shrunk back in, the wound completely gone now.

With a small smile beginning to form on your lips again, you lifted the bottle to your lips — not to drink the last sip, but to blow across the opening. A faint, hollow note carried out, thin and wavering. You tried again, head tilting, and a smile — brighter than any you'd had before, and lighting up your posture — flickered across your face when the sound deepened.

Jason didn’t ride straight up to you at first once he had spotted who he assumed was you. The second his headlights briefly caught your figure crouched at the street’s edge, he killed the beam and cut the engine, easing the bike into shadow. Something in him wanted to watch, to see what the hell you did when no one was steering you, when you were left alone with the world.

Jason exhaled sharply through his nose when he saw the bottle come to your lips. Playing music with trash. Christ.

You left the bottle on a low wall and moved on, drifting down the sidewalk with a strange, almost childlike wonder. You stopped at a lamppost, eyes narrowing at the faint flicker in its bulb. Then, without hesitation, you reached up, fingertips brushing the metal pole. The light steadied for a moment under your touch before flickering out entirely. You stepped back, blinking at the sudden dark, but your expression didn’t shift to fear. Just curiosity, like this too was something new to catalog.

Jason followed from across the street, keeping his footsteps low, hidden by the hush of Gotham’s outskirts.

A stray dog barked in the distance. You froze at the sound, head snapping toward it, body tensing in a way that made his chest tighten. But instead of running, you crouched low again, pressing your palm flat to the pavement like you were feeling something beneath it. You stayed like that, utterly still, until the barking stopped. Then you rose, satisfied, and kept walking.

Jason cursed under his breath. You weren’t just wandering, you were reacting to things nobody else would have noticed. Listening too closely. Feeling too much. It confirmed every suspicion gnawing at the back of his mind, the ones he kept shoving down.

You paused again a block later, this time at a half-collapsed payphone. The receiver dangled by its cord, scraping the ground with every whisper of wind. The repetitive rasp must have been what drew you, and Jason could see the faint crease between your brows from here. Slowly, you bent and lifted the receiver, holding it up to your ear. Nothing but dead air. Still, you kept listening, lips parted, as if trying to catch something beyond the silence.

That was when Jason finally pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on. He couldn’t take it anymore — the sight of you, so damn lost, poking around the outskirts of Gotham like it wasn’t the most dangerous place on Earth.

Jason dragged a hand down his faceplate, muttering under his breath. “Yeah. Of course you’re playing in the gutter.”

But the knot in his chest loosened all the same.

Jason’s boots hit the pavement hard enough that you finally noticed him. Your head lifted slowly, the receiver still pressed to your ear, eyes wide with the same unflinching curiosity you’d shown the flickering lights, the squirrels, and the weeds splitting through concrete.

He looked massive against the backdrop of Gotham’s skeletal outskirts — helmeted, broad-shouldered, leather darkened with shadow. Anyone else would have bolted at the sight of him, but you only tilted your head, gaze flicking from the glowing red of his visor to the shape of his figure, as if trying to solve another puzzle.

Jason stopped a few feet away, the words biting at his tongue before he even thought about softening them.

“Do you have a death wish?” His voice came out harsh, edged, carrying across the empty street.

You didn’t flinch, you didn’t run, you only slowly blinked once, and let the receiver slip from your hand to swing against the booth with a dull clatter.

Jason sighed and adjusted his gloves, he could already feel his temper wanting to spike, but raising his voice at you wasn’t going to solve anything. You didn’t even understand him at least not the words or the threats.

“Alright,” he said, softer this time, crouching a little so his height wasn’t looming over you so much. “C’mere. Stay close. I’ll walk you back.”

You stared at him, uncomprehending. Then, as if on instinct, you mirrored his crouch with your hands folding neatly against your knees, eyes fixed on him like you were waiting for something else.

Jason let out a short laugh, sharp and laced with humor. “Yeah, great. That’s helpful.”

For a second, he thought maybe he’d lost you completely and that this was useless, that you were just going to keep drifting until Gotham spit you out. But then, slowly, you rose again and took one careful step toward him.

It was enough.

“Good,” Jason said quietly, almost to himself. “Yeah, alright, that’s good.”

The two of you walked back to where he had stored his bike, or at least, Jason tried to make it walking. You kept stopping, drifting toward anything that caught your eye. A plastic bag tumbling down the street in the wind had you pausing, crouching again to press your hand against the concrete as if to feel the ripple of air currents through it. A row of streetlights bending low above a chain-link fence made you reach up, fingertips brushing the metal until Jason barked your name.. well his name for you, at least, since he didn’t have the real one.

“Hey, stray.. no wandering. Eyes front.” His tone was clipped, the same way he’d talk to a rookie, but underneath it was an edge of concern he couldn’t shake.

You obeyed, sort of. You returned to his side when he called, but your eyes kept darting off, hungry for everything.

Jason kept pace, always a step closer than he needed to be, ready to grab you if anything shifted in the dark or leaned too close to the curb. His mind was running through every possibility — a man, muggers, gangs, traffickers, cops with itchy trigger fingers, or worse. You wouldn’t stand a chance against any of it. You probably didn’t even know what a gun was.

Still, for a moment, he caught you staring up at a diner sign buzzing faintly against the night. Your face softened in the glow, the corners of your mouth turning up, almost smiling. And against his better judgment, Jason felt something in his chest unclench.

But then, he caught it before you did. The shift in the air.

A sound threaded under Gotham’s usual hum, so faint that most ears would have dismissed it. But Jason had learned to pay attention to the city’s rhythms, and this sound didn’t belong. It was too sharp, too even, cutting through the chaos instead of blending into it.

Your reaction was immediate.

You froze, body stiffening, head snapping toward the source of the sound. Jason swore under his breath because he didn’t even need to ask. It was the same thing that had spooked you before, the same irritant that had sent you running. He couldn’t hear it fully, not the way you could, but the way your hands went up to your ears told him it was worse this time.

“Hey—hey, focus,” Jason said, stepping in front of you, blocking your line of sight. “Eyes on me. You’re fine. Don't go running off, we'll get you somewhere.”

But you shook your head hard as his words jumbled in your head, clutching at your ears, eyes wide and shining in panic. The sound drove deeper, splitting your focus, and before Jason could stop you, you bolted.

“Dammit!” Jason shouted, sprinting after you.

You were fast — faster than he’d expected — but uncoordinated, weaving down the street, drawn by the instinct to flee the piercing noise that seemed to follow you. Jason chased, shoes pounding, and every curse in his vocabulary spilling under his breath.

Because he could see it now — clear as day. You weren’t just lost. You weren’t just foreign. Something was looking for you.

And Gotham wasn’t the only danger to you.

ᝰ.ᐟ edawgz 2025. part 3 here!

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At that, he picks up a sack filled with sea-smelling water. You wrinkle your nose, turning away, cocooning yourself within his coils. With the increased pain, your appetite has decreased, as well as your thirst. The stress of being trapped like this along with your broken wrist was starting to take its toll on your body.

Suguru makes a sound of disapproval, shuffling around behind you. You know he's still mad about the escape attempt, but he's concerned enough for your well-being to put his anger to the side for now. He'd helped wrap your wrist, using something stretchy and soft.

You raise your wrist up, inspecting the thin material wrapped around your wrist. You're not sure what it is, it's too silky to resemble cotton. It must be from the foliage around the island. Yet, another strange thing you'd never find the answer to.

There's another rumble coming from the Naga's chest. He wraps a hand around your chin, bringing your face closer. In his other, he holds the dripping sack.

"Suguru," it's too soft to be anything more than a whine, "it hurts too much to take anything right now. Stop."

"Hurt?" he asks.

To that, you gesture to your broken wrist. It may not have been broken, you were no doctor, so you couldn't say for certain. But considering you'd been in the same amount of pain for two days, it really didn't matter to you.

A click, before he's tossing a glare at the entrance of the cave. He'd already given Satoru a beating right before coming to coddle you. Despite being bigger than his mate, Satoru is docile enough to take them. Suguru had been acting more aggressive lately. You had a feeling it was your fault.

He'd been inspecting your wrist every so often, but you see a different look within his brown eyes now as he takes your injured hand. He carefully turns your palm over, pressing slightly into your wrist. When you yelp, he retracts.

"Hurt." Suguru confirms. You can only nod.

"Hurt. No drink? No eat?" You don't like the way he's talking. As if he's putting a puzzle piece together. Coming to a solution you won't like.

When you go to pull away, his grip only tightens.

"No hurt," he says it like a promise, as though you're a toddler and he's coaxing you into drinking a sour-tasting medicine. His lips part, revealing the fangs you've often seen him use on meat, on Satoru.

Never did you think he'd ever use them on you.

"Suguru," you're pleading, trying to move away when he bends down, his hair brushing your sweaty forehead. You can feel his breath on your neck.

"No hurt," he repeats, and then he bites down.

He lied, of course, he did. His teeth puncture your skin, tearing through like paper. You think you screamed, or maybe it was more akin to a pitiful whimper. In the background, you can hear someone hiss, Satoru maybe?

For a second, you feel everything, the pain, the puncture wound, Suguru lightly licking your neck.

And then, you feel weightless.

It's hard to describe, but your brain feels like it's turned to mush. Your body feels like you're on a soft cloud, just there, floating. In the back of your mind, you remember how dazed Satoru would get whenever Suguru bit him. At the time, you just thought he was lovestruck.

When Suguru pulls away, he's smiling. A trail of blood, your blood goes down his lip. You can barely keep your eyes on him, close to falling asleep.

"No hurt," he says. When he leans down to kiss you, you accept without a single fuss.

You don't remember much after that, but you remember accepting whatever Suguru put in your mouth. The panic in your body was non-existent as he held the water-sack above your lips, watching as your throat bobbed. You think he kissed you a few more times, but you're not too sure. You were a lot more averse to kissing before. It'd make sense he'd take advantage of it.

When you wake up again, you're in between two bodies. The pain in your wrist is still there, but not as horrible as before. You're still groggy, mind fuzzy. Whatever Suguru had given you was still in effect.

Satoru is the first to notice you're awake. Suguru and him must have made up during the time you were unconscious. He props himself up, peering down at you. With how dim the cave is, you can barely make out his features. He looks just as guilty as he had two days ago.

"Sorry," he mutters, "is sorry."

If you weren't still high, you might have laughed. When you continue to stare, he takes it in stride, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, then your lips. You wince in distaste, leaning back.

"Stop," you say but don't fight when he licks at your jaw. You can barely move your fingers.

Panic is still far away, a distant call than anything alarming. It should worry you, but you still can't feel anything.

Suguru is at your back. You can hear his scales move across the cavern floor. He gives a hum, content as he curls himself around you. He doesn't seem to mind Satoru's touches. Your theory that they must have made up is unfortunately starting to strengthen.

You could barely manage Suguru's coddlings. You don't think you'll survive Satoru's.

"Sorry," he mouths into your neck. You can feel the grip on your waist starting to tighten. He stops, rising up to stare at you.

Blue, almost glowing.

"But no more leave."

You're coherent enough to piece together what he means. You can't escape Satoru. You can't escape Suguru. You can't leave this island. Running away is useless.

The nagas understood it. It's time you did too.

He’s an aspiring transmasc idol who struggles with passing any auditions. Due to this, he struggles with self esteem and anger issues. He wants to find the beauty in himself, but it feels like others find those aspects of him more than he does to himself.

He entered NRC after one of his auditions, in which it seemed as if this time he would actually pass the audition and become an idol. Though on that night, he would get swept away and sent to NRC. Though initially pretty hesitant and scared, he would eventually come to like NRC since he actually made proper friends there.