**Tuesday morning - Gotham Central Police Precinct**
After returning to her hotel to compose herself and secure the box of Suguro's belongings in her rooms safe and get some rest, Nemuri forced herself to continue her search.
The police were the obvious next resource, despite her taxi driver's warnings. Even in a corrupt city, there had to be records, missing persons reports, something in the system that might tell her what had happened to Suguro after he'd disappeared from that apartment.
Gotham Central was the main precinct, a massive brutalist building downtown that looked more like a fortress than a police station. Concrete barriers, security checkpoints, hundreds or guards with military-grade weapons and vehicles, it was designed to withstand a military assault.
The interior was chaos barely contained: officers rushing between desks, phones ringing constantly, people shouting, a general atmosphere of being overwhelmed and understaffed. The main desk had a line of civilians waiting, and Nemuri joined it, preparing for what she suspected would be a frustrating experience.
After 2 hours she reached the front desk, where a tired-looking officer with sergeant stripes regarded her with barely concealed impatience.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm looking for information about a missing person. A child who disappeared 4 or 5 years ago."
The sergeant's expression immediately became more hostile. "You got a case number?"
"No, I—"
"We get thousands of cases of missing persons reports a year, and you want me to dig through four years of records for a kid who probably ran away."
"But surely there must be some record—"
"Lady, I'm gonna be real with you." The sergeant leaned forward, his exhaustion evident in every line of his face. "This city is a warzone. We got mob families running half the city, supervillains blowing up buildings weekly, and a police force that's underpaid, and half-corrupted that the feds have abandoned, we barely even have any heroes now. A missing kid from four years ago? That's not even on our radar. I'm sorry if that sounds harsh, but that's the reality. You want to find him, hire a private investigator. We can't help you."
"Could you at least check your system? The name is Suguro Crane, would have been around fifteen when he went missing—"
"I'm not checking anything without a case number. Next in line, please."
Nemuri felt anger rising, the injustice of it, the casual dismissal of a child's disappearance, the complete failure of the system that should have protected him. But she forced it down, recognizing that antagonizing this officer wouldn't help.
"Is there anyone else I could speak to? A detective, someone who handles cold cases?"
The sergeant actually laughed. "Cold cases? Lady, we can't handle hot cases. We got a backlog of 30 murders from last week we haven't even assigned detectives to yet. Nobody in this building has time for a half decade old missing kid case, I promise you that. Now, I've got a line of people behind you, so unless you've got actual new information about a crime that happened in the last forty-eight hours, I need you to move along."
Nemuri looked at the line behind her, people waiting with their own desperate problems and she left the main desk and spent another hour trying to find someone, anyone, who would listen. She used her hero ID card that lets heroes enter most police stations worldwide and approached detectives directly, tried to access records on her own, attempted to speak with supervisors. Every single person either ignored her, dismissed her, or actively told her to leave.
Finally, a detective in his fifties, one of the few who'd actually stopped to listen to her full explanation, pulled her aside and spoke quietly.
"Look, I believe you, I believe this kid existed, disappeared, and nobody looked for him. That's Gotham in a nutshell. But you need to understand something: even if I wanted to help you, I couldn't."
"Then what am I supposed to do?"
The detective glanced around, making sure no one was listening, then said, "Off the record? You want problems solved or questions answered in Gotham, you don't go to the police. You go to the people who actually know what happens in this city—the criminals. I'm going to be honest if the kid went missing he's either dead or probably working in crime somewhere. It might turn up nothing but it's more effective than anything we can do here."
Nemuri felt ice in her stomach. "Thank you, for the advice."
"Good luck. You're going to need it."
As she walked away from the precinct, trying to process everything, her mind was already turning to what the detective had suggested: the criminal information network. If she wanted real answers, she'd have to go where the police couldn't or wouldn't, into Gotham's underworld itself.
It was dangerous, but remembering her time as a young heroine in Gotham during her early career before returning to Japan she knew where to start looking.
**Tuesday evening - The Bowery District**
Nemuri had spent the afternoon in her hotel room, looking at old research she had from her early career and looking up the city now and both led to one district that might have what she was looking for.
The Bowery district was the place: a crowded commercial district where multiple lower level mafia territories overlapped, creating a sort of enforced neutrality. It was safer than most of Gotham, relatively speaking as these were old institutional crime families conducting business made sure to keep a maintained peace to not weaken themselves to keep independence from Falcone or Maroni or more radical actors like Two-Face.
Now, at sunset, she walked through the Bowery's crowded streets, trying to blend in with the urban flow while observing everything with a hero's trained awareness. The district was alive with activity: vendors selling questionable goods from sidewalk stands, restaurants with armed guards at their doors, businesses that were obviously fronts for less legal operations, and crowds of people moving with the purposeful wariness of those navigating danger daily.
She'd dressed down further, worn jeans, plain jacket and sunglasses, no makeup, and her hair pulled into a simple ponytail. She wanted to look like a civilian to not draw attention.
She passed several clubs, restaurants and bars that looked like possibilities where she could find information - "The Red Herring," "Stacked Deck," "Lucky's Last Chance." All of them trying to look legitimate while being obviously criminal, with security that watched everyone.
Someone bumped into her from behind not hard, just the normal jostle of urban crowds and she automatically moved forward to create space.
"Sorry," a voice said, male, young, with an unusual flatness that made it stand out from the typical urban noise.
"No problem," Nemuri responded automatically, already moving past.
But something made her glance back though she couldn't say why.
What she saw was a young couple moving through the crowd with practiced ease, already several feet away and increasing the distance. The man was tall, wearing sunglasses hiding his eye color, his clothes were a dark coat over plain black hoodie and pants and he had black hair.
Next to him, clinging to his arm with casual possessiveness, was a woman who immediately drew Nemuri's attention. She had striking features partially concealed by a hood and sunglasses: red hair escaping from beneath the hood, skin that even from this distance looked oddly green-tinted, wearing a leather jacket and combat pants that suggested both style and function.
They were both clearly trying to hide their identities, the sunglasses, the concealing clothes, the way they kept their heads down—but she couldn't blame anyone for wanting to keep a low profile in Gotham.
Nemuri found herself smiling slightly despite her dark mood. Even in Gotham, even in all this decay and danger, people found each other. Couples went on dates, tried to carve out moments of normalcy in the chaos.
It was oddly hopeful.
She watched them for another moment as they disappeared into the crowd, probably trying to enjoy some time together before night fell and the city became even more dangerous.
Then she continued her search, putting the encounter out of her mind, returning to her mission.
And she never noticed that her son had just walked past her in broad daylight.
**From Another Perspective - Simultaneous**
Suguro Crane had been alert the moment he felt contact from behind. His hand had moved automatically toward an injector needle or concentrated fear toxin he kept concealed in his coat.
Then he realized what actually happened; it was just some random woman who had accidentally bumped into him on a crowded street
"Sorry," he'd said anyway, maintaining civilian cover.
Ivy relaxed, both of them continuing their movement through the crowd with practiced efficiency.
They'd been out in civilian clothes specifically to avoid attention, rare daytime hours away from the faction's headquarters, and Ivy insisted on taking this time off with Crane.
Suguro had agreed partially because denying Ivy something she really wanted tended to create problems he'd rather avoid at this time besides Batman only worked at night so there was minimal risk.
They'd visited a botanic garden and bought some rare seeds Ivy wanted and she claimed where "asking for her help", and were now heading back to base after eating out in Bowery where they could move more freely.
"That woman is looking at us," Ivy murmured as they walked away, her voice low enough that only he could hear.
"Probably just thought we looked like an unusual couple."
"Oh so we are a couple now?" Ivy teased him
"You know what I mean" he said as he rolled his eyes
**Back to Nemuri's Perspective**
She found a relatively quiet doorway and called the U.A. emergency line, where a staff member answered immediately.
"This is Midnight, daily check-in."
"Confirmed, Midnight. Status?"
"Safe, no incidents."
"Understood. Stay safe."
The call ended, and Nemuri felt a brief wave of homesickness for Japan, for U.A., for a place where hero society functioned and she wasn't hunting through criminal underworlds for a son she'd abandoned.
Also she was a little confused that Nezu wasn't the one picking up.
But the school was busy with the forest camp so she couldn't blame him.
But she pushed those feelings down, she had work to do, and only a few days left before she'd need to return home.