New York City

July 30th , 10:59 EDT

Central Park was a curious bit of green in an otherwise suffocating morass of skyscrapers meant for the elite to live in, swanky places that overlooked the park as if tens of thousands of dollars' worth of rent every month was worth this tiny view of nature. In a way, I pitied the people that lived up there.

As much as I envied them. I could have been one of them if Batman hadn't shafted me about my pay, the bastard.

Sure, then I wouldn't have lived in the cave where I'd see Megan on a regular basis, which would have been slightly inconvenient, but I could have shown her around my nice apartment and gotten a break from Superboy's surly presence. Not that he had been much of a problem for me. In fact, he seemed to have withdrawn to himself. Wonder what was up with that, not that I'd ever ask him. He had already made his opinions of my advice clear to me, and frankly I doubted I'd ever be able to make a dent on his daddy issues, as Robin and Kid Flash had explained it. Apparently, Superman was neglecting his baby.

Clark, you absolute dog. I chuckled as I took another gulp of the soda.

The thought of psychology and the power of my words brought my mind back to Batman once again. Batman, who had with his words and sheer presence, made me lose control over my Limitless technique, rendering me vulnerable. He was nothing in the grand scheme of things, in terms of power at least. In my first meeting with him, I could have obliterated him in half a second.

…then why had he met with me?

If one maintained that Batman was always prepared for any situation, then the logical conclusion to that was that he was confident that I wouldn't harm him.

And where did that confidence come from? I had met two Leaguers that day before him—the Flash, and then Superman. Both had disappointed me, both had given me terrible news. And yet he had put himself in my way, even in my volatile state of mind. Was he really just reckless? Perhaps not.

Or was it the fact that I, a foreigner from another universe, completely trumped Batman's power of always being prepared?

…What countermeasure did he have in place for me in case I went berserk? Magic, maybe? Because there was nothing physical that could cross my Infinity. It had to be arcane in nature, to a conceptual level. A level that far superseded the laws of physics, like Limitless did.

Perhaps he had already sorted out his countermeasures upon our first meeting after Superman had delivered me to him?

It was… disconcerting coming to grips with just how vulnerable I was, even though I had never been more powerful in my life. Even without the Cursed Technique Reversal or positive energy, I had been the strongest jujutsu sorcerer.

Now, I really was just another wizard off the block. Like a guy named Zatara, who used to be a stage magician, but was now apparently a Justice League member. Or that geezer Doctor Fate, who used to be a member of the Justice Society, according to Red Tornado's history lessons.

The point was, I wasn't special. Not compared to the League. Only compared to the Teen Titans I had been lumped in with. I was beyond giving a crap about that at this point—real hero work would get in the way of training, so really, being in the team worked well for me. Better than if I had to be assigned a city to watch over, like Batman's Gotham or Superman's Metropolis.

Twelve days in DC world, and I had mastered inter-city warping. The Zeta Tube had been a godsend in understanding long-distance spatial transportation. I doubted that without them, I'd have gotten as far as I have.

All I was doing at this point was increasing distance. And the distance increased immensely, day by day, as I learned to better channel my cursed energy and used my cursed technique to best effect. But otherwise, I didn't feel like I had come any closer to piercing through the veil of the multiverse. I could travel anywhere I could see, given it was within range of my Eyes—and I was making good progress on developing the power of my Six Eyes Reversal—but I couldn't see the multiverse. No matter how hard I looked, no matter how much positive or negative cursed energy I tried to pour into the technique.

In one rather suicidal instance, I had debated on pouring both negative and positive energy into my eyes to create a sensory technique similar to my Hollow Technique: Purple. But, for obvious reasons, I never went through with that. I could already half-tell that it would only end in tragedy, the sort that would likely just instantly kill me. So not really a tragedy for me, just the next person that encountered my headless self.

I wondered if that death would count as a death by cursed energy, which would forestall the rise of a vengeful cursed spirit out from me.

…that was the first time I had considered my death, actually. If I never managed to return home to the world of jujutsu, then that meant that I would have to live here for decades. I could get killed in the line of duty. And then this world would see the rise of its very first cursed spirit—an invisible monster that no one could see, that left behind a trail of mass devastation. It would be special grade for sure, and even if I did not get any stronger than I was today, it would likely require multiple Leaguers to put an end to my restless spirit's mad rampage.

That would suck for them.

I also had no idea how to tell Batman this. Or whether I even should. Fuck him, first of all. Second of all, that might end up being a bigger headache for me than necessary.

But third of all, it would probably buy me brownie points to come clean about this. And I'd love to see him shit his pants in terror at the mere thought of a completely invisible me running rampant, wreaking havoc.

But he might stop me from being a hero, or put me only through weak-sauce missions. I'd just keep it a secret for now. Nothing had really threatened me thus far anyway. I was fine.

Across the park, a door opened, and I saw a man step out from a grand theatre. He wore an old-timey tuxedo and top-hat, and from what I had observed, he had been setting up his stage, making sure that everything was ready for tonight's show.

The magician hero himself—Zatara. Personally, I did not see the point. This was real magic, meaning none of it was nearly as impressive as the illusionists that did crazy stuff that you could swear was real magic, but wasn't. That was an impressive sweetspot to be in, to be duped by your own senses. But Zatara did no duping or lying. There was no deception in his act. Only truth. And the truth was boring.

Not that I ever shared in the enthusiasm that people had towards magicians to begin with—my Six Eyes never let me get deceived in such a manner.

I got up and tossed my can into a waiting trash bin before pinching the space between Zatara and me. I took one step, and appeared all the way behind him on the sidewalk.

He stopped and turned to me with narrowed eyes. "To what do I owe the pleasure of our first meeting, Gojo?"

I gave him a lazy wave, "We can walk and talk," I said, walking up besides him, "I would hate to throw out your schedule with an unannounced visit. You already know about me and my situation, right?"

Zatara looked at me for a moment with narrowed eyes before walking besides me at an even clip, forcing me to slow down to keep up with him. Power plays this early into the conversation. I guess I wasn't very well-liked among the Justice League. Sad. But ultimately understandable. "I have been briefed," Zatara replied.

"My gifts make me a rather tricky opponent in this world," I told him honestly, "But this world has more than just people who can punch very hard. I would say that I'm confident in my chances against Superman—at least being able to survive anything he can throw at me, though I may not be able to hurt him." I definitely was. I couldn't see anything surviving my Hollow Technique. It was an orb of pure destructive energy that disassembled the molecules in its path into its constituent atoms. "It may sound like I'm here to ask you for more power, but really, I just want to reduce my weaknesses to the mystic arts."

"And what are those weaknesses?" Zatara asked.

I grinned at him and shrugged, "I don't know. I have been in this world for only twelve days. This is the first time I have tried learning anything about magic. But I know that I am weak against magic—I don't understand it, after all. And if I don't understand it, that means there is a vulnerability in my defense."

"And where do I come in, pray tell?"

I hummed for a moment, "You don't have to mentor me if you don't want to. It is obvious that you don't trust me. I would like to learn more about magic. If you don't have the time, I would like for you to point me to a place or person that can teach me what I want to know in order to stay safe."

"If you want to stay safe, then hang up your cape," Zatara said, giving me an annoyed side glance. I grimaced at that. "This line of work is not for the faint of heart. If you cannot tolerate the risk of death, then do what you think is best for yourself and stop putting yourself in harm's way."

Wow. What did I say?

Zatara stopped walking, and then sighed. "Don't take this the wrong way, boy. I'm not saying this because I have anything against you in particular. I sympathize with your situation and I would like for you to come to a solution as soon as possible. But what you are asking from me is impossible. I could only realistically teach you to ward against certain kinds of spells, but one can never truly be immune. It's just not possible. There is no such thing as an all-powerful shield."

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"So I shouldn't bother to use any shield then?" I asked, "All I'm asking for is a start. What magic do villains use? Black magic? Give me something for that."

"I could only give you something for particular spells," he said, "But spells, like weapons, are manifold, and you cannot create a singular defense that shields against all weapons."

Oh, for the love of god.

I took a deep breath and found my words slowly, "I think that is a worthwhile effort. Give me the most common shielding spell for the most commonly used magical spells I might encounter as a hero. Or not. I don't want to waste your time. I only want advice."

"You're a stubborn one," Zatara sighed, "I have to warn you, boy. Your… arrival in this world has yet to cause unforeseen consequences. Your dark power—for it is undeniably dark—is foreign to us. That you have not immediately caused some kind of arcane plague already was our luck. But that is not the extent in which you are a risk."

I raised an eyebrow at that, "What?!" What the hell was this old man talking about?

"Do you know anything about the first European settlers in America?" he asked me.

"No, not really," I admitted.

"The disease they brought wiped out an immense portion of the Native American population," Zatara said, "They did not have the immunity against Western disease, and they were decimated as a result. Your energy, which you yourself have called cursed energy, is just like a foreign pathogen in that it could have a catastrophic impact on this world's people. We have ruled out most possibilities already—if your energy was dangerous in such a way, we would have discovered it within hours of your arrival—but not all possibilities. Including the possibility that mixing your cursed energy with other magical sources may create an adverse and chaotic reaction. One that may just cause the arcane equivalent of a plague. Or something even worse. Or nothing at all. Have you also considered the fact that if you were to learn this world's magic, you would not be able to return to your own world due to some kind of incompatibility with your world's magic?"

My head was spinning with all these hypotheticals and doomsaying. What the hell had this guy been smoking? Well, he was supposed to be a magician, so maybe being this batshit insane was normal in his line of work? In fact, he did remind me of some Jujutsu Sorcerers who coped with the job by pretending to be performers.

"No," I said, "To… everything."

"You clearly haven't thought this through," he said. "I have been a very strong proponent of keeping your cursed energy as untampered-with as possible. Towards that end, I will simply refuse to teach you any magic or show you any magical sources. And I trust that my warnings have been heard. You have a lot to lose, and very little to reliably gain from going against my advice, young Gojo. Keep this in mind. In the short term, you would hardly be able to cast combat-ready spells on the level that is expected of a hero. And in the meanwhile, you might cause massive problems for yourself."

I frowned sharply, "Why didn't anyone tell me this?"

"I've told you this," he said. "And the Batman would have done the same once you asked."

I sighed.

Horrible. Just horrible. I debated on going behind his back to look for some other magician that could give me a second opinion. But who could I trust? I wasn't even sure I could trust the great Houdini here, and he was supposed to be a superhero. And Doctor Fate had apparently been inactive for decades. I was floundering here. And I could easily see myself getting led astray by shifty wizards looking to sell my beautiful and powerful soul to the devil, or for the devil himself to make such a bargain. This universe was very… weird about stuff like that. Devils and angels were apparently real, here. Unless Constantine was somehow not a part of this particular DC universe? Comics were confusing. At least magic was real.

In real terms, my search for magic was pretty much over for the foreseeable future.

"Thank you for your time," I told him, giving him a lazy bow of my head. I withheld my sarcasm and instead casted about for where the Zeta Tube was—a dingy alleyway without anyone inside. After finding it, I poofed away and did a bigger poof through the Tube back to the cave.

I saw Aqualad and Superboy duking it out, actually. Interesting. I folded my arms and watched. Aqualad was physically weaker than Superboy, but his skill invalidated that gap entirely. Superboy was being led on a merry chase, getting himself thrown and redirected every which way.

Until finally, Aqualad gained the confidence to decisively swing the match, breaking Superboy's balance, tripping him over his feet, and pushing his chest down to the ground. Superboy banged his head on the floor hard but his durability wouldn't let him feel anything, of course.

The computer announced the score, "Superboy down."

Superboy got up to his feet in anger and stomped off.

I skipped over to Aqualad, "I saw the fight! Good work."

"Thank you," Aqualad said as he looked over to where Superboy was angrily storming off. "I find myself unable to reach him or ascertain the origin of his anger. It worries me."

"It will sort itself out," I said, "Probably. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about an idea that I had. Something to spice things up and…" I sighed and gave him a sympathetic grin, "I won't try to sugarcoat it actually—I am a bit too strong."

Aqualad looked at me flatly.

"I'm not trying to brag this time. I'm saying this because I am actually worried about the development of the team. So I have come up with a plan to make sure that the team are able to contribute properly without me stealing the shine all the time. Introducing the Restraint Level System," I showed him jazz hands.

He furrowed his eyebrows at that.

"You know about my powers already, right? Now, level one is me using my cursed energy imbuement only for attacking—basically, strengthening my body, making me stronger and faster. No flying, no warping, no invisibility, no Blue or Red. Of course, I will still use my Six Eyes because I cannot turn it off. But this way, I will only be as strong as Superboy," way stronger, really, if you counted martial arts, but I didn't want to quibble over the details. "Further levels will increase my arsenal. Blue, Red, warping, invisibility, going all out on curse energy strikes. And finally, Purple. Of course, Infinity is on no matter the level, so you won't have to worry for my safety. What do you think?"

Aqualad frowned but nodded. "I… regret the necessity of this system. But I would be a fool to ignore the fact that you are powerful enough to make any mission Batman sends us on far too easy. Thanks to you, we captured five supervillains in a day. And if I am being honest, I was trying my best to figure out a way to have this conversation with you."

I grinned at him, "I will give you a nice little sheet for you to memorize and that should be it, right?"

"With exceptions," he said, looking at me sternly, "If someone is in danger of dying and no one but you is able to save them, then you have to go all out. And if we are in danger of failing our mission parameter, then you must go all out as well. The mission always comes before our individual desires to develop. So do human lives."

I raised a hand curiously, "What about Martian or Kryptonian lives? Or Atlantean lives?"

Aqualad rolled his eyes. "All lives."

"Does that include chicken and cow lives?"

He drew in a deep breath and sighed. "Was there anything else, Gojo?"

"Nope," I said with a grin. "We can spar if you want. I won't use any cursed energy."

Aqualad blinked for a moment, considering the proposition, "I need to learn how to be more decisive. How will sparring with you help me improve on that?" I could sense that it was a genuine question.

I leaned back, crossing my arms and grinning. "Simple. You'll have to make split-second decisions to keep up. I won't give you time to overthink. It's either act or get hit."

He nodded, looking thoughtful, but still a bit hesitant. "I'm not sure if it's the same as making decisions under pressure during a mission."

"Why not? It's all about instincts," I said. "Think of it like training your body to respond as quickly as your mind. If I'm throwing a punch, you don't have time to analyze my form and make a plan; you just move. The goal is to get you comfortable with trusting that first reaction—no second-guessing."

Aqualad's brow furrowed slightly as he mulled it over, then he gave a small nod. "That... makes sense. Training my reaction time to a higher level could help me trust my instincts when I don't have time to consider all the options."

"Exactly!" I clapped him on the shoulder, almost knocking him off balance. "No cursed energy, no Limitless—just you and me, testing that sharp Atlantean sense of yours."

After a moment, he gave me a slight but determined grin. "Let's see how much my instincts have grown since joining the surface world."

I could think of worse ways to pass the time than making sure my teammates stopped being so weak.

At the very least, no matter how many times I dropped him on his butt, making sure not to harm him so badly that he had to quit, he didn't let his pride get in the way of standing back up again to face another round of sparring. He even made progress. Slight progress, but this hard work wouldn't be in vain.

I made sure to remind him of that after I gave him a goose-egg on his forehead and helped him get some ice on the swelling.