in ghiblistyle, A tender fusion of realism and dreamlike beauty, where chiaroscuro becomes a dance of memory and moonlight. The scene unfolds in a quiet corner of a rain-kissed city, bathed in the gentle hush of night. Lantern-like streetlights glow softly against the mist, casting golden halos that flicker against the tall, timeworn buildings. Shadows stretch and sway with the breeze, their edges softened like brushstrokes on wet paper. There stands Batman, not just the dark knight of legend, but a man caught between silence and resolve. His cape rustles like parchment in the wind, his silhouette calm yet unwavering. In his hand — a gun, pointed directly at the viewer — but his eyes speak more than threat; they shimmer with weight, grief, and the impossible choices that haunt him. Only small accents of red—perhaps from distant taillights, or a warning light blinking softly in the rain—break the muted palette, highlighting the stillness of the moment. It's not action that defines this frame, but emotion: tension suspended in time, a quiet breath before the storm, in a city that never truly sleeps.