AN: Don't worry, I'm still working on my other stories. This is just something to bide time because this idea just wouldn't leave me alone ;)

Batman and all related characters are owned by DC Entertainment. Batman is created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger. Omamori Himari is created by Milan Matra.

CHAPTER 01: Prologue

"An Oma-what?" asked a puzzled young boy.

Thomas couldn't stop himself from chuckling and his wife Martha followed suit. Their son didn't pay them any heed and instead, with innocent confusion, looked at the thing his father held out for him.

It was rectangular shaped with the upper edges folded, enclosed in a red cloth with a flower print and tied with a tassel knot by a thin long red rope.

"An Omamori, Bruce." Thomas explained, stressing on each syllable. "It's an amulet imbued with spiritual energy that provides protection."

"Like a lucky rabbit's foot?" Bruce asked warily.

Thomas understood Bruce's hesitancy, the boy always had a thing for animals...except maybe for a certain flying kind.

"Pretty much but don't worry, there's no bunny body parts involved." he assured jokingly. "You can find these anywhere in Japan but your mother and I had this specifically made for you."

Bruce suddenly deflated at this point and gazed downwards with a morose expression.

"Honey, what's wrong?" asked Martha with concern.

"It's just that..."

The young boy's voice softly trailed off as he lost his nerve to speak. It was only for a moment before he then clinched his fists to summon whatever will he could to express himself and looked up towards his mother.

"You and Dad keep traveling there and back but you never take me along! Why?"

There was a tense sideways glance shared between his two parents before his father sighed and spoke up.

"It's only for business, Bruce. Our work there is so tedious that there isn't time for anything else. Believe me, you'll find yourself very bored if we brought you along."

Bruce furrowed his brow and pouted in skepticism.

"Son..." Thomas said while keeping a hand on his shoulder. "I know your mother and I aren't around all the time. Though Alfred has done a bang-up job taking care of you, it doesn't excuse us for not being more involved in your life. That's why tonight is special, why this Omamori is special. I want you to promise us that you'll wear it and think of us. Do that and we'll be with you, no matter how far apart we are."

Bruce looked at his father like he had grown a second head. "How was that even possible?" he wondered. "How can they 'be with me' when they're so far away?". Regardless, he quietly considered before replying.

"Fine. But on one condition!"

Thomas rolled his eyes, expecting a huge list of demands.

"Hoo boy, what is it?"

But what Bruce asked wasn't what either of his parents expected.

"I want Mom to wear that necklace she showed me earlier."

Bruce's mother blinked in surprise.

"My mother's pearls? Why?" she asked.

Bruce shrugged like it was such an obvious thing.

"I dunno, cuz you look pretty in them?"

Martha couldn't help but blush in delight, with a palm to her cheek and her eyes starry.

"Awwww, that's so sweet!" Martha squealed.

She then bent down and pulled on Bruce's cheek playfully.

"So young and you already know how to sweet talk the ladies. Keep that up and soon you'll need to beat them off with a stick."

Bruce's cheeks grew rosy with embarrassment and tried to pull away from her.

"M-mom! Cut it out! Why would I need to beat anyone with a stick!? You told me violence doesn't solve anything!"

That earned a hearty laugh from both his parents, much to his bewilderment.

"Anyway, it's a deal." Martha said with a beaming smile.

And so Bruce hung the strange amulet around his neck while Martha fetched her pearls. Taking the envelope shaped thing in his hands, he stared at it. It brought about a strange feeling within him but it was a familiar one, one that he thinks he may have felt before. Like it was from a past life.

"Well? How does it feel?" asked Martha, her collar now gleaming with the adorned pearls.

Bruce hastily pushed the charm into his collar to keep it out of view.

"Yeah, yeah. It's fine. Now c'mon already! Or we'll be late for the movie!"

The eight year old boy raced out of the mansion while his two parents followed him. Tonight was indeed a special night. A night for family. A night where two loving parents can finally spend time with their son.

It would be also be the last night for Thomas and Martha Wayne, and a dark beginning for Bruce.

Thirteen years later.

"It's the Bat!" one of the armed men called out before opening fire.

Hails of bullets chased after a certain dark shape that moved with surprising agility, bounding from one shipping crate to the next before launching itself over the armed thugs.

The limited light illuminated the shape as it landed. It was someone the thugs, as well as the rest of Gotham's underworld, were well aware of. Recognizable from the dark long eared cowl, scalloped cape and glowing white eyes, he was Gotham's Dark Knight: the Batman.

Batman quickly engaged the gunman closest to him and disarmed him by grabbing the rifle's muzzle and elbowing him hard in the face and the yanking off the weapon and clubbed him. From there he knocked out another gunman with a spinning kick and then took care of a thug with a shotgun with a leg sweep followed by strike to his jaw.

To his left, another thug pulled out a knife and slashed at him but it was vain because Batman was able to dodge every slash and then nonchalantly grab the thug's wrist as he tried to slash overhead. Frightened on the spot, the thug tried desperately to yank his arm away but Batman's grip was like a vice and very easily pulled him forward and knocked him out with a punch.

Two other thugs joined the fray but while the Dark Knight was preoccupied with them, one of the felons who was previously knocked out arose from unconscious. He was disoriented and from his blurred vision, he could make out the Caped Crusader knocking out another of his comrades and was now paying attention to the last one standing. He then noticed the dropped Shotgun next to one of his downed partners and reached out to grab it.

Batman's last opponent finally went down with a haymaker and joined the rest of the goons who were sprawled on the ground like ragdolls. He took a short moment to breathe and felt satisfaction from stopping another operation from the remnants of the Falcone Family. Their empire had been fractured and they've been growing more and more desperate to reclaim their former glory. This set back would surely add to their frustrations but he knew that it was another step towards their inevitable dissolution, it was only a matter of time now.

But he didn't get a chance to revel in his victory because suddenly, the distinct sound of pump action re-chambering made him spin around in alert. Right in front of him was the recovered felon who had the muzzle of the shotgun pointed mere inches from his head.

His face was unfortunately the least protected of his suit and at that moment, it looked like the criminal was going to pull the trigger but for some reason, he instead lowered the muzzle towards his torso and opened fire. The blast sent the Cape Crusader flying back but neither of them would know the significance of this moment nor the chain of events that were set off.

Far away, beyond the trees, within the dark abyss stirred multiple entities. Their eyes opened and their bodies writhed with agitation.

"I sense him..." one of them hissed.

"The son of the Gaijin Demon Slayers." said another.

And more inhuman voices followed.

"The last of the Amakawa."

"The hated one"

One by one, they chanted the name of this hated one...

"Wayne." "Wayne." "Wayne."

...Before releasing a vengeful wailed in unison.

"Waaaaaaaayyyyyyyynnnnnneeeeeeee!"

Inside a large mansion in England was seated a young woman reading a book.

With her fair complexion and large breasts, one would say she could turn the heads of most males wherever she went. But her most striking features were her long silver hair and a crescent mark with its 'horns' pointing upwards on her forehead. Another noticeable thing about her were her choice of attire that could be described as 'Gothic Lolita'; black with frills and ribbons along with a corset that reinforced her figure.

The book she was reading looked old and its pages were filled with unrecognizable glyphs and fonts. But then she suddenly closed it as a strange sensation overtook her.

She put her book aside as she looked curiously towards the window before getting up her seat and approaching it.

She peered out of the glass as if something was calling out to her.

"That feeling." she murmured.

Standing in the rippling shallows of the riverside water was another attractive young woman. She had a heart shaped face with long dark blueish hair and violet eyes.

All she wore was a white kimono that was wet and clung to her voluptuous body and was translucent enough to reveal some of her flesh.

In her hands was clutched a tachi sword housed in a thick scabbard. She too could feel that strange sensation, it was a signal she had been waiting for long time to receive.

"It's time." she said.

She unsheathe her sword slightly from the scabbard, the clear blade reflecting one of her violet eyes.

"I shall finally fulfill my pledge."

The shotgun-weilding thug's eyes widened. He had shot the Dark Knight square in chest and sent him flying back, yet he didn't fall. Batman managed to keep his feet on the ground but was hunched over in pain, the fabric in his chest area where his emblem was had been completely ripped to shreds and what it revealed was that underneath was a kind of kevlar padding, smoke trailing from the blast it absorbed.

With shadows smeared on his face except for the narrow white eyes and teeth that were grit dangerously, Batman's terrifying visage was enough to momentarily freeze the thug on the spot.

Just when the thug was about to recover and fire again, his leg was quickly caught in a fired grappling line and he screamed as he was ferociously dragged towards Batman before being knocked out with a savage punch to his jaw.

The vast underground cavern looked like a clash between the Primeval and Technology, rocky stalagmites married with cool metal. Overhead, hung many of the cave smaller residents; their slumber was disturbed by the approaching sounds of turbine engines.

The bats screeched and fluttered around as a black armored vehicle zoomed over the internal bridge before slowing down to a halt over a circular platform. Batman jumped out after the Batmobile's canopy slid open but stumbled a little with a grunt as he landed, his torso feeling like it was set on fire.

"Long night, Master Wayne?"

The voice, dignified and laden with a British accent, came a distance away from the platform and Batman looked to see an elderly gentleman with a pencil thin mustache wearing a dapper suit.

"Got shot point-blank with a shotgun, Alfred." Batman said with a painful grimace.

"Indeed, sir." Alfred stated nonchalantly while noticing the damage on his suit.

Two years had already past since the butler's young master began his crusade and while Alfred was definitely worried for him, he was at a point where he'd come to expect him returning with some grievous injury or other. This was actually nothing for either of them.

Batman straighten himself and walked towards the work area with Alfred loyally trailing behind him, listening as the Dark Knight continued to speak.

"At least we now know that the under-armor can take it. Still hurts like a mother, though. I'm thinking we could improve the suit's performance by having it interwoven along with reinforced HMPE plates. Might have to run that with Lucius later."

"Hm, quite." Alfred concurred and then gestured towards the medical table. "In meantime, let me examine you. The least I could do is make sure you are fully operational for the next time you decide to use yourself as a test dummy."

With a nod, Batman finally pulls back his cowl to reveal a handsome face with dark blue eyes and messy hair. He was Bruce Wayne, twenty one years of age, considered the Prince of Gotham for his looks and wealth. Bruce seated himself on the medical and took off his gauntlets while Alfred detached his cape.

"It was strange, actually." Bruce mused. "He had the gun trained at my head but aimed for my chest instead. I had hypothesized that symbols can influence the criminal mind, perhaps it was the emblem that drew his fire."

When the torso portion of the suit was removed, Alfred could see that Bruce's chest area sported a few dark red splotches and some of the pellets actually made through and broke his skin around the neck, shoulder and chin. But also over his chest hung a certain amulet with red cloth and flower printing, it dangled freely and one could almost hear a ghostly chime as if it was a Furin wind bell.

"Or it was an act of good fortune, perhaps?" asked Alfred with a knowing wry smile.

Bruce glance at the Omamori and then scowled at Alfred with annoyance.

"You know I don't believe in that nonsense. The only reason I've been wearing this is because it was the last thing my parents left me."

After saying this, Bruce let out a pained hiss as Alfred pressed an ice pack around the bruised area, a little too hard for his liking.

"Of course, sir." Alfred responded in dismissal.

The elderly man always felt that despite Bruce's denial, the Omamori was subtlety influential in Bruce's knack for surviving the impossible. All those times when his master was on the verge of death and barely escaping with his life, it happened so often that one would wonder if Bruce was actually being protected by some otherworldly force.

By the time the butler was done with his examination, he fortunately concluded that there were no damage to the ribs but nevertheless dressed up the bruises in case there were further hemorrhaging.

"Injuries are superficial." he stated as he picked up the first aid kid. "Though I'd recommend keeping weight off your front for a good while. So next time you're entertaining one of your party favors, don't do anything too, um,...strenuous."

Bruce rolled his eyes. Alfred was of course referring to his lifestyle as a playboy. The thing was that it wasn't really his lifestyle, just a facade he fabricated to keep suspicion off him; a public image he had to preserve. Truth be told, he hardly slept with anyone and even Alfred once commented that Bruce spent the majority of his free time as a lonely clandestine monk.

That sentiment reemerged when Alfred halted from leaving and spoke in an exasperated tone.

"And on a woefully unrelated subject, Miss Vale called. Kindly spare a word or two for the poor girl, unlike the others she clearly gives a damn about you. And it's obvious that you find her as quite charming company; Lord's sake, this manor could use one or two of those."

But when Bruce didn't respond, Alfred turned to see that the young billionaire was preoccupied, holding the Omamori in his hands and glaring at it intensely.

Alfred sighed sadly, he knew that Bruce had a complicated relationship with the Omamori. Although Bruce kept wearing it, there was nothing but hatred in his eyes every time he looked at the thing.

"That's weird." Bruce suddenly said.

"What is?"

"Usually when I hold it, I get this...tense feeling. But now I feel nothing."

Bruce pressed his thumb against it and he could feel that the wooden plaque inside had been completely fragmented.

"I think it's broken. The force of the shotgun blast must've shattered it."

There was a sudden thud on the floor followed but clattering sounds. Bruce spun towards Alfred to see that the older man had dropped the First aid kit and his expression was as if he had seen a ghost.

"Alfred, what wrong!?" Bruce jumped from the table and went to him in alarm.

Alfred blinked and snapped out of it.

"Oh, n-n-nothing, Master Wayne. My hand must've slipped, beg pardon for my clumsiness."

He bent down and began to gather the thing that fell from the first aid kit. Bruce bent down as well to help him while giving him a curious look. He wondered what had gotten into his loyal butler, Alfred has NEVER been clumsy before.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Bruce asked.

The elderly British nodded.

"Quite alright. Perhaps I'm a little tired."

And just like that, Alfred's usual demeanor returned like nothing had happened. With the fallen items back in the First aid kit, he straightened up and cleared his throat.

"If that'll be all, I'll retire for the night. You should as well. After all: Bruce Wayne, world's youngest CEO, has busy schedule tomorrow."

With those words, he left the cave while Bruce looked on in confusion. As Alfred walked through the Manor's corridor, he sweated nervously as his mind was wild with thoughts.

So it finally happened, the Omamori had lost its power. That meant that the young master's life was in danger...well, not that he wasn't already putting his life in danger but this was much different. Alfred knew that he was going to have to explain to him who Thomas and Martha Wayne really were. But could he? As a boy, Bruce was so broken after his parents were murdered that Alfred kept that world away from him fearing what it might do to him.

Bruce's life was complicated enough with being Batman and it was only a matter of time before it became even more complicated. Alfred let out a tired sigh and uttered the only thing he could.

"Oh dear."

TBC