Bruce watched the spar play out in front of him, only needing about ten seconds before he pulled out his phone and texted a certain boy scout.
Are you sure she isn’t closer to a Bat? The only fighting style you Supers know is “punch wildly until your fist connects.”
If I didn’t already know it wouldn’t bother you at all, I’d sue you.
If you can get to know her better, she’ll prove she’s more of a Super.
Wait, is Marinette fighting?
Sparring. Jason. Don’t tell Lois.
I’m going off planet in ten minutes, and she spars Red Hood?
Lois will find out. You know she will.
Make sure you keep an ice pack ready. Jason will need it.
Don’t just leave a cryptic message like that
Kent I know you’re getting these messages
Bruce growled a bit, stuffing his phone in his pocket. One eye had remained on the spar the whole time, but even if they hadn’t the text conversation had only lasted about thirty seconds thanks to Clark’s superspeed typing. There was reason Bruce hadn’t waited longer before texting Clark— Marinette hadn’t just been dodging or “lasting” in the spar. She and Jason were almost dancing, if dance was violent and punctuated with the sounds of bruises being made. They traded hits, blocks, dodges, and flips almost as if it was Dick that Jason was up against.
Jason was rolling on the ground to avoid one of Marinette’s strikes, and just as she went to jump over him to avoid them crashing together Jason’s hand whipped out to grab her ankle as she was midair. She let out a yelp, her face shifting into surprise even as her jaw clenched and she braced herself. Jason was relentless, whipping her down to the ground, her back slamming against the mat beneath them as everyone else in the room let out a wave of sympathetic winces.
But Marinette didn’t stay down. She gasped for breath at the same time that she jumped up, blocking Jason’s kick aimed for her stomach and pushing him away so that she could have a split second to regain her bearing. Two gasps later, she got her breathing under control and ran straight back in. Her punch was shoved away by Jason’s open palm, his headbutt was dodged fluidly. Jason got close enough to wrap one arm around Marinette’s back, but she just jumped straight up, leaning back in midair so that all her weight was on Jason’s arm. The sudden change made Jason grunt, his center of gravity shifting and pulling him forward against his will. Marinette had just enough time to flip them both so that Jason was the one that hit the ground, but she didn’t get the chance to pin him before his booted feet were kicking her off.
“Geez,” Dick muttered, entranced. “She’s almost as fearless as Jason!” he watched as she ducked under Jason’s kick. All the batboys knew from experience that every inch of Jason’s body was a finely tuned weapon, and his legs were some of the most dangerous. Those legs could kick a dent in a brick wall, and have on a few occasions. His punches were only slightly less powerful. It was a well known fact for them that Red Hood didn’t use guns out of necessity, but because they were efficient and he liked them. Didn’t mean he was any less lethal without them.
Jason quickly shifted his balance, bringing his leg down with the intent to axe-kick the ducking Marinette. The girl only grinned, fully aware of the danger of Jason’s hits. She had only taken glancing hits so far, but she knew she’d still have plenty of bruises on her body to explain away to Lois in the morning. She had to avoid taking any of Jason’s hits full-on, or else she’d be down. She knew that.
Didn’t mean it scared her— on the contrary, it gave her a thrill.
She didn’t have to worry so much as Ladybug. Her suit was indestructible, she would never bruise or get cut. Broken bones were still possible, but very difficult to achieve. Even as stronger Akumas tossed her around, she hardly ever had to worry about brute force being what knocked her out of a fight. But this? Raw strength and skill pitted against someone who was even more experienced and skilled than her— even if she was holding her own well enough for her to be smug about it— without her powers? It was invigorating. Being reminded that even without her suit, she was still strong. She was still able to think quickly, to hold her own against people who might want to harm her.
Marinette kicked Jason’s other leg out from under him even as she allowed his crushing kick to glance off her arm. Oh, maybe that was a mistake— her arm was thrumming with numb pain. It wasn’t broken or sprained, thankfully since Jason had pulled back on the strength of it considering this was a spar, but she would have trouble moving that arm for the rest of the night. It was like the sensation from hitting her funny bone, but all over her arm. She grit her teeth and jumped on the falling form of Jason anyway. She couldn’t let it stop her. She never let anything like this stop her before, why now?
The two grappled on the ground, Marinette at a clear disadvantage considering that a grapple usually went to whoever was stronger. Jason was proving that right, as it only took a few moments for him to get her under his weight and her arms locked in his unforgiving grip. But Marinette wasn’t done— she used their height difference to her advantage and rammed her forehead straight into his throat. His grip instantly relaxed a bit as he fell into a coughing fit, and she used that chance to wiggle away.
But she underestimated his recovery time, because Jason was suddenly right in front of her and she could barely meet his hits in time. Her stamina was draining, her speed suffering because of it. Both hands were numb by that point from having to block Jason’s ruthless jabs, and then suddenly there was a knee in her gut. Marinette stumbled back, eyes wide and mouth gaping like a fish as she struggled for breath. Jason faltered— he hadn’t expected that to hit. His knee-strikes had never hit Marinette during the rest of her spar, she had always flipped around or dodged them or used them as a foothold to jump on his back or over his head. And it was clear now, for the first time, that she was not invulnerable. She was legitimately struggling to breath, the pain was written plainly on her face in a way that could not be faked.
“Mari—” but she had only needed those two seconds. Pushing the worst of the pain back to the recesses of her brain, she took in one good gulp of air and surged forward to catch Jason off guard. One leg knocked his legs out from under him, her arms hugging him and keeping his own from moving away from his sides. Her head tucked in against his neck, not allowing him the leverage he needed to headbutt her, and just like that— as soon as they hit the ground Jason was pinned.
The room was silent, and Jason only briefly tested the strength of her pin. If this had been a fight for his life, he probably would have been able to get out, but not immediately. This spar went to Marinette. “Alright. Alright, pixie, you win,” he said softly, out of breath but still concerned. “You okay?”
Marinette’s reply came in the form of a very out of breath laugh, and she peeled herself away from him only to slump back until she lay spread-eagle on the mat.
“Holy— that hurts,” she said, laughing again even as tears went down her cheeks. She clearly wasn’t sad, which meant that the crying was ripped out of her by the pain. “Jon?”
Marinette flipped him off. “That’s for telling me to tell him not to hold back. I’m not indestructible, geez.”
Jon just knelt by her, chuckling as he helped his sister stand up. “I never said it wouldn’t hurt, I just said that you wouldn’t be able to show off like you wanted to if you let him go easy,” he reminded her cheerfully, even as he checked her over for wounds. Marinette pulled up her shirt, showing off the large bruise already forming right in the center of her torso. She groaned, letting her head fall back.
“I won’t be able to do sit-ups or…” she wrinkled her nose, “Most of my daily exercises, actually, for a few days.”
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Jason apologized, now sitting up cross-legged not far away and rubbing at his shoulder and a few other sore spots. Marinette had landed some pretty good hits herself, and Jason would not walk away unmarked. “I thought you’d dodge or something like you did the rest of the fight.”
Marinette snorted, waving her hand dismissively. “Don’t apologize, that was the best spar I’ve had in months! I’m just giving Jon a hard time,” she groaned a bit as Jon finally helped her stand up. “I’m gonna need a few minutes to walk on my own, but that was a lot of fun. I haven’t sparred like that since before—” Marinette’s face fell. “Before my parents died, actually.”
“Really?” Bruce asked, turning his gaze to Kagami, who was only a few feet behind Jon and watching her friend with only slight worry. “You knew she was a good fighter, Miss Tsurugi. I take it this isn’t something new?” he asked the fencer, who looked up startled to be addressed. Once it sank in, Kagami gave him a small grin and shook her head.
“Oh, no. It wasn’t something very many people knew, but it wasn’t a secret either. All of Marinette’s closest friends knew that her mom raised her in martial arts. Not for competitions or anything, but just because it was something of a tradition in their family.”
Marinette nodded, stretching a little to try and work out of the worst of her soreness. “My mom’s side of the family is big on martial arts as a lifestyle. Mostly the women, oddly enough. The men on that side of the family usually do something else, like my great uncle who is a chef, and usually don’t learn more than the basics. My mom didn’t really care if I became that great at fighting, but it was something she was good at that she wanted to share with me,” her eyes went a bit glassy as she reminisced, reliving scenes none of the rest of them could see. “It was how we bonded. When I started College, we had to limit it to something we only did on the weekends… Sometimes Kagami or one of my other close friends would watch, and Maman would somehow switch things around so we were suddenly teaching them the basics. Papan would always have fresh pastries baked for us to cool down with afterwards,” Marinette gave a soft, nostalgic smile at the memory. The tears in her eyes just flowed heavier, but nobody commented. She wiped away at them with her arm impatiently, taking a deep breath.
“They sound pretty fun,” Dick spoke up, coming over to rustle her hair. “And anyone who can give Jason a run for his money is someone I want on my team. Sure I can’t steal you away from the Kents?”
Marinette laughed, shaking her head. “No way. Jon, Clark, and Lois are the best people who could have taken me in. No offense,” she held up her hands to show she wasn’t trying to be mean. “But they understand me in a way most people can’t.”
“But you can still be my sister, right?” Jason interjected, walking over and throwing a gentle arm over her shoulders as he grinned widely. “Because I can’t let a little badass like you get away without being at least unofficially adopted. I apologize for the tiny comments, completely take them back. You’re small and vicious.”
Marinette had to wipe away even more tears, these of joy. “I mean,” she started in between breathless chuckles. “You can try, but I think Kon might fight you if you try to steal me away. I’m pretty sure he’s decided that he’s the only bad boy in a leather jacket allowed within ten feet of me.”
Damian took that chance to shove Jason away, not even bothering to hide how he shoved right at one of the larger man’s bruises so that he would back off.
“Ow! Watch it, Demon Spawn!”
Damian ignored him, looking straight into Marinette’s eyes. She blinked, unable to look away as his emerald gaze held her captive.
And then he flicked her forehead.
“Gah! Hey!” She protested, pouting angrily. “What was that for?”
“You should have put more distance between the two of you as soon as you realized you were running out of stamina,” Damian critiqued, arms crossed as he frowned. “You stayed too close even though you knew that your reaction speed was compromised. That could get you killed in a real fight, though hopefully you never get into one. I don’t trust your bad luck though. You always end up in bad situations.”
Marinette blinked again, before breaking into a grin. Unbeknownst to them, all of Damian’s brothers and Bruce had almost the same teasing smile on their faces too.
“Careful, it sounds like you care about me,” she teased, poking his nose playfully with one fingertip. He jerked away as if he was a cat just sprayed with water, the pure offense on his face hilarious.
Everyone broke into laughter, the air light. Marinette would later realize that that was the first time she had successfully spoken about her parents at length without falling into a panic attack.
Maybe she really was getting better. Maybe she wasn’t as broken as she thought, or at least she was being fixed. Her eyes shifted to land on Jon, the boy still laughing loudly by her ear.
The Kents were gluing her shattered pieces back together.
This is a bit shorter than usual, but this felt like the best place to end this chapter. Things will continue to heat up a little, but remember. This fic is more focused on the emotional health and psychology of Marinette and her experiences in recovery than action and heroes. Doesn’t mean that stuff isn’t there, but still.
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