Gotham's Own Ladybug

Seventeen

"Bye Felix!"

Said male sent a curt nod Marinette's way, as he readjusted the satchel on his shoulder. Then, with a subtle twitch of the lips portraying his amusement, he strolled off to the stairs leading down below that were nearby.

That left the designer alone - beam gracing her features - to turn around, and be met with the sight of students bustling about all around. Chatter filled the crowed halls from them.

She skillfully weaved between everyone, apologising every so often when nudging a teenager ever so slightly. After that ordeal, she stood to the side of the corridor, hand pulling back her blazer to reveal the large pocket within.

There, munching on a cookie beside Kaalki and Trixx, was Tikki, with a knowing smile plastered on her face. "Your next class is straight ahead," she informed.

"Thank you," Marinette said under her breath, before moving her clothing back to hide the kwami. She ignored the giggles she could hear and feel against her side.

Whilst making her way over to the classroom at the end of the hallway, she waved to familiar people, that returned the gesture every time. It caused a blush to rise to her cheeks.

The girl took in a deep breath. She gripped the handle in front of her and inched open the door in a nervous manner.

Immediately, the scent of coffee and newly printed books filled her nostrils, making her let out a sigh of relief. Her shoulders lost some of their tense, as she walked over to where her desk was.

Situated there was Damian, who was staring out through a window to the side. As she sat at the chair to his left, she greeted, "Hi Dami."

"Hello," he spoke back in a surprisingly level tone, glancing to her then to the board back at the front. "Mr Burnes has given us time to work on a project we have. I was hoping that we could work together on it."

"Oh, okay! What is it about?"

"Culture and Identity. We have to share our origins and past, then present our findings to the class. It is required to say what you have learnt about your partner and if it has changed your viewpoint on them."

"W-What?" Marinette stuttered. "But, I..."

He rose a brow, and a glint of concern shone in his emerald eyes.

"It, it's nothing. So...where do we start?"

"Mr Burnes informed us all of the project before you enrolled here, so I've already created notes of my past. What's left to collect is yours."

After a few moments, she nodded hesitantly, saying, "I guess I'll explain my roots, then..."

Damian proceeded to open up a binded book, that had lines in black running across its pages. He settled his fountain pen to the parchment, and turned to her expectantly.

The female pursed her lips, glancing to the side. "I'm from Paris in France - though I'm sure you already knew where it was - and I was born and raised there."

There was the sound of scribbles to her right for a while, until they paused abruptly and a voice next to her asked, "What nationality are you?"

"French-Chinese. My mother is Chinese from her roots."

"Right."

Silence lingered about for several seconds.

"Your age?"

"17."

"Birthday?"

That was how it went for the next fifteen minutes.

With every question, Marinette felt herself more at ease, with her muscles relaxing and posture practically slouching. She placed her elbows on the table beneath, then leaned her head on her hands.

"Anything in Gotham that is different to Paris?"

"Well...there's much more inspiration here, I'd say. I've lived in the City of Love my whole life, so all of this is so new and refreshing to me."

"Hmm. Is that why you moved here?"

"What?" she quizzed, reflexively snapping her back straight. She turned to Damian, seeing him in the position to write more in his book.

"Did you move to Gotham for inspiration?" he repeated.

"No, I-I didn't really have a choice in coming here."

The older one tilted his head up to meet her gaze in curiosity. "Was it your aunts' choice to come?"

"I..." Marinette trailed off. "...Is it okay if you ask something else? I don't r-really want to answer that."

"Of course," he backtracked, before looking down to write a few words. "I apologise for if that made you uncomfortable in any way."

She shook her head in understanding, when all of a sudden, a realisation struck her mind. Her bluebell eyes found themselves wandering over to his form.

He usually acts formal when he's lying, or at the very least nervous.

Hasn't he been acting this way all day?

With a quick rack through her memories, she registered that her hunch was true, prompting her to study Damian intently whilst he wrote.

Why would he be nervous? He's only making some-

-notes?

'Name: Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Nationality: French-Chinese

Age: 17

Parents: Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain'

"Damian."

Said boy felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise at her tone, as he craned to face her. Her expression was blank, though one could feel her anger flowing out in waves from a mile off.

"What are you writing?"

"...I am simply noting down-"

"No you aren't," she denied in a voice similar to a growl. "I didn't tell you who my parents are, nor what my last name is. I know how you found out about all of that, but why are you so keen on researching me?"

"I am not-" he began, yet halted when comprehending her words. "What do you mean you know how I found all of that out?"

Marinette stood up, picking up her spotted backpack and slinging it over her shoulders. Then, she leaned in close as she hissed, "That's not something I care to answer right now, Robin. All you need to know is that however much you try to figure out about me, you'll never know what happened. You'll never know what caused me to come here."

As she moved back, she carried on in a now wobbly voice, "You'll never know what I've been through, and you never ever will."

With that, she swiftly made her way out of the classroom, ignoring the looks of pity she gained. When getting out into the corridors, she sprinted through them, and towards a door that had the silhouette of a women in pink plastered to the top of it.

"We're getting out of here, Kaalki," she wavered, releasing the worried horse kwami from her blazer. Tikki and Trixx whizzed out into the open at the same time, and nodded to her in forlorn understanding.

"Tikki, spots on," she commanded, making a flash of pink burst out from herself. Straight after, she said, "Kaalki, Tikki - unify."

Out of a pool of pine green energy emerged a figure in red, black and green, who held a hand out in front of them.

"Voyage!"