The city hadn't changed much since Y/n's death. The criminals were still out there. Batman still patrolled the shadows. The Bat-Family had learned to live with the loss.

What they didn't know was that Y/n was back.

After being resurrected by the League of Assassins through the Lazarus Pit, Y/n had spent months enduring their training and manipulation before finally escaping. They had returned to Gotham alone, carrying fragmented memories, buried anger, and scars that served as permanent reminders of their death.

They weren't the same person anymore.

From a rooftop, Y/n watched the Bat-Signal illuminate the clouds.

For a moment, memories surfaced. Jason's laughter. Bruce's voice. The warmth of a home they once believed would always be theirs.

Their chest tightened. They looked away, pulling their hood over their face. They weren't ready to face them. Not Bruce, not Jason, not anyone.

A distant explosion interrupted their thoughts. Y/n turned toward the smoke rising from an alley below. Instinct took over before they could think, and they leaped from the rooftop.

Perhaps some things never changed. Gotham had buried Y/n once. Tonight, the city would meet its ghost.