The karaoke night ended up blending in with my dance night as well. I watched a video of a popular K-Pop singer and dancer, and performed for the team, to many jeers and claps before we launched into the karaoke portion of the night.

Things were fun. Pleasant.

But it felt hollow for some reason. I was itching to get back into training, but even training was starting to grate on me. It was an annoyingly boring march ahead with no companions. It was a constant trudge through mud.

And it was really starting to drive me up the wall how undriven the others were. I could excuse human endurance, but most of us weren't even training to the extent of their own stamina. They weren't fulfilling their biological potential. And even Superboy's attempts started looking more perfunctory, less passionate.

Even as we sang through the night until midnight when Wally and Artemis had to leave because it was a school night, I never quite felt relaxed enough to lower my Infinity, still training to keep it on subconsciously, and inching ever-forward towards that milestone of power.

Making sure to make room for human touch, of course. That, too, was important training.

That night, I trained in my room, trying not to delve too hard into these feelings. Megan and Canary had done their damndest to try and pry open stupid floodgates like 'childhood trauma' as if any of that could touch me. Trauma certainly couldn't. I truly didn't feel so strongly about the lip-scar bastard to have panic attacks or anything like that. All I felt was a bone-deep resolve to never be caught in a similar position, which was a productive urge.

Far more productive than trying, and failing to fit in with my team of layabouts.

I debated on bringing the matter up with Canary at our next session, but I shot that idea down as quickly as it came. Canary would tell me I was wrong for thinking this way, that I should work on not being the way that I was because it was wrong or antisocial. But even in the best case scenario of her taking my side, there was no changing people who were just… fine with taking this job non-seriously. People who couldn't work as hard as I did—to their limits at least.

…When had I started caring so much anyway? This was super heroics, not jujutsu sorcery. And I was never much of a company boy to begin with, even if that was what they bred me to be.

When morning came, I still didn't stop thinking even as I trained.

What if… I stopped training. Stopped trying to really be the strongest? Things would get easier. I wouldn't end up having as much work to do. Hell, I might even start relating more with others. A weak-sauce mentality would do me well.

But it would be a betrayal.

A betrayal of what it meant to be me. And even if no one saw it or knew it, I had my pride.

No one was going to save me. I would save myself.

I resolved myself to stop talking about power. That's where things started getting sour anyway. If all I did was just hang out and cook nice sweets with Megan, play sports with Artemis, occasionally spar with Kaldur and Robin, snark around with Wally, and stay out of Superboy's way, then things would just go perfectly smoothly for the team.

Who knew? Maybe the League would end up coming through on their promise to send me back as well? See a five years older Suguru who probably moved on in my absence?

What a drag. All of it.

Mount Justice

August 19th , 19:39 EDT

It turned out that a lot of what annoyed me about Canary was completely self-imposed. Be honest with her, and she'd return that honesty with biting analyses that distracted me more than it helped me. I saw no point or reason in her trying to chip away at what I was becoming aware of was an emotional wall holding in… a lot of baggage.

There was no good outcome to breaking that wall down. No great relief or revelation that waited. Certainly no increase or maintenance in daily function, which was what her job was meant to bring about, so… obviously, the solution was to just lie to her.

White lies, of course. Tell her what she wants me to realize, follow along with her fairy tale plan to betterness, hell, shed a few tears every now and then just to get her off my back. It was a system that worked for me, especially as I had come to realize that I had already hit the limit of what a psychologist could do for me. Or what she could do for me, really, but it was the same difference. We had both worked hard to do our fair share of digging, but I was satisfied with what I had found, and she would just have to deal with that.

I was in the Mission Room just watching Superboy and Kaldur have it out with each other. Repetitive, nonsensical fighting—poor form, lacking knowledge, just amateurs having at it. No improvements, just rote repetition and fluctuations in apparent skill. Sometimes they played worse. Sometimes they did well. Nothing that could be noticed in the span of a day. Their curve of improvement was almost flat, and it probably fooled them into thinking that their work didn't matter when it absolutely did. Especially because the curve was so flat. That just meant that they had no room to miss practice.

Still they did, at times. Kaldur at least. Superboy had become diligent. Good. It was only the bare minimum anyway.

Red Tornado left his hatch in the ceiling, and Kid Flash didn't hesitate to zip up to him, "Hey, Red Tornado! Do you have a mission for us?"

Red Tornado landed in front of Wally, "Mission assignments are the Batman's responsibility."

"Well, the Batman and the Robin are doing the Dynamic Duo thing in Gotham. But you're headed somewhere, right? Hot date? Or a mission?"

Aqualad butted in, "If we can be of help."

Red Tornado walked up and interfaced with the computer and threw up a projection, "This is Kent Nelson," he said. The man looked old, hunched over, wearing an old-fashioned suit. "A friend. He is 106 years old."

"Doctor Fate!" I said, standing up and approaching the rest of the team, standing next to Artemis and Wally. "I know him! He's a bigshot wizard in this world, right?"

Red Tornado continued, "He has been missing for twenty-three days." Damn! Who else was left then to be my magic teacher? Constantine?

I really couldn't remember a damn thing about the Constantine issue that I read, other than that he was screwing around with demons. Even that movie I watched that came out this year—well, the year I left the jujutsu world—was slightly foggy. It wasn't a good movie, by any means. The Satan scene was cool, though.

"Kent was a charter member of the Justice Society," Red Tornado continued, "The precursor to your mentors' Justice League."

"And strongest magician, right?" I asked.

"Pft," Wally snorted, voice low so that only I could hear him, "Wouldn't go that far. Guy knows a little advanced science and Dumbledore's it up to scare bad guys and impress babes."

…In retrospect, was that why Zatara, that smarmy bastard, didn't want to teach me any magic? Damn guy tried to give me the run-around but he was a fraud all along? "Magic isn't real here?" I asked, shocked. "I trained with Zatara—he managed to get past my Infinity. So, like… how?"

"It's obvious," Wally said, arms folded as he looked at me like I was dumb, "If it's not super science directly harnessed, then it's probably some kind of advanced energy control. Like Captain Atom. Or advanced alien genes that allow a certain set of abilities."

"How is that different from magic?" I asked, tilting my head. "What exactly is the distinction here? And how come none of that gets past Infinity, but magic does?"

Wally's eyes widened, "The distinction is I don't have to say magic words or twirl a wand to be fast because that's not how powers work."

"That's how my powers work," I said, "If I say an incantation or do gestures, my powers get stronger." Was he just full of it?

"You don't count," he said, wrinkling his nose, "You're from another universe. The rules might be different. Anyways, pay attention." Artemis rolled her eyes at him. Huh, so maybe he was the one full of shit.

Dammit, I couldn't believe this asshole would take advantage of my ignorance and try to fill my head up with pointless lies. So he had an ideological disagreement with the concept of magic—big deal. I didn't want any part in that.

I hardly wanted any part in this team, to be honest. Crazy just how much weeks and weeks of inactivity could just sap all motivation in that way. Maybe I just should start looking at other options. Everyone annoyed me—all the time, and I wasn't allowed to be angry or I'd be the asshole.

And then I'd probably hurt Megan.

"—perhaps on one of his walkabouts," Red Tornado said, "But he is caretaker to the Helmet of Fate, the source of the doctor's mystic might. And it is unwise to leave such power unguarded."

"He's like the great sorcerer priests and priestesses of Mars," Megan said, her expression reverent, "I would be honored to help find him."

"Me too!" Wally rushed up next to her and swooned, "So honored I can barely stand it. Magic rocks."

I grimaced in sheer, utter disgust at him.

Damn, he was just wretched for that.

Whatever. He wanted to ruin his chances with Megan, that was definitely his prerogative. I had nothing to do with that.

"Take this," Red Tornado produced a key-like thing and proffered it, "It is the key to the Tower of Fate." Aqualad took it carefully.

"Wait," I raised my hand, "Does this count as a mission or not? Because I've been planning to speak to Doctor Fate for quite a while now and I'd love to go. But… Batman benched me."

Red Tornado took a moment to think, "This is not a mission per se, but merely a wellness check. I don't predict that anything would have happened to Kent Nelson. Ultimately, it will be up to Aqualad."

I clasped my hands together, "Pretty please?"

Aqualad sighed and nodded, "Fine. But should a situation arise—"

"I'll sit back," I said, "Promise. Just wanna talk to Fate Man is all. You can trust me."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"I hope I can," Aqualad said. "Fine. You can come, Gojo."

"Yes!" I pumped my fists, "Titans! To the Bio-Ship!"

I loved doing that.

000

"So," Artemis said. She was seated where Robin usually was, to Megan's right. While Kid Flash sat on Megan's left. All of us were dressed up in our civilian outfits, reflecting how little of a mission this really was. "When did you realize you had this honest appreciation for the mystic arts, Wally?"

"Since forever!" Wally lied, "I was thinking about becoming a wizard before becoming Kid Flash."

Why the hell was I letting this farce play out anyway?

You know what? Screw it! "Didn't you just tell me all magic is fake back in the cave?"

"W-what?!"

"Yeah, you told me Doctor Fate Dumbledore's it up to impress babes and scare bad guys," I said, "You know, you don't have to lie about the subject, you could just talk about it honestly. I really don't give a damn. Unless you lie to my friend's face." There was only so much childishness I could tolerate, and Wally was very good at crossing that threshold.

He made me feel like a responsible and congenial person, which I absolutely hated.

"Thank you!" Artemis shouted.

Megan looked at Wally in concern, "You don't believe in the mystic arts?"

"I mean—I just…" he sighed, "No, not really." Then he gained a second wind and started ranting. "I mean, it's obviously a scam!"

"Wally," Aqualad said, "I studied for a year at the Conservatory of Sorcery in Atlantis. The mystic arts created the skin-icons that power my water-bearers."

"You ever hear of bioelectricity?" he replied. "Hey, in primitive cultures, fire was once considered magical too," Wally said, "Today, it's all a bunch of tricks."

"You're pretty close-minded," Artemis said, "You know, for a guy who can break the sound barrier in his sneakers."

"That's science!" Wally claimed, "I recreated Flash's laboratory experiment and here I am. Everything can be explained by science."

"Correction, that's science fiction," I said, "Not how things worked in my world. At least there, we were honest that all this stuff is literally just magic. Even Batman is magic—there's no way he should be able to do half the things he does."

"Yeah, but things don't work like in your world," Wally said, "That's why we don't have ghosts and demons prowling around."

"Really?" I asked, "Does a guy named Constantine not exist in this world?"

"Never heard of him," Wally claimed. I got similar results from everyone. Guess he probably didn't, then.

"And besides," Wally said, "I bet your world could be explained by reason, too."

"Yes, it can," I said, "The reason being magic. A well-understood and well-harnessed phenomenon. As well understood as any physical phenomenon really is, which I mean to say is not much. When you take a look at what we really know about the universe, Wally, maybe you'll start to realize that all this confidence is kind of misplaced."

"Confidence that magic isn't real, and it can all be explained?" Wally asked, "Yeah, no thanks."

"Magic is real, and it can be explained. How do you think it's harnessed? No, scratch that—you really think the ancients knew what fire really was before they harnessed it? They knew enough to create it, but not everything about what it is—the visible effect from a process of combustion requiring oxygen, heat and fuel. All they knew was that fire burned from wood if you lit a spark with some rocks, and air was everywhere either way, so it didn't matter and wasn't categorized as a necessary component. That's magic," I said.

"So we agree that all magic is just science waiting to be explained?" Wally asked. "And that magicians are frauds who don't understand their science like cavemen waving around fire?"

Nah, I wasn't gonna win this.

"You know, I've been remarkably patient about this—for me, at least. But I guess there's no arguing against what boils down to be faith and faith alone. Can't argue with a theist, can you?"

"Theist?" Wally spat, "What are you talking about?"

"Boys, please," Megan said. "Let's not bring religion into this."

"No, I'm honestly just curious," Wally said, "No anger, no annoyance, just curiosity. How am I a theist?"

"You have an ironclad faith in a concept that runs counter to available evidence," I said, "And you cram all that evidence through this lens without any regard for how twisted and illogical things come out on the other end," I said, "Use logic. Occam's Razor. Ever heard of that?" I grinned.

"Yeah, of course I have. The idea with the fewest leaps in logic is often the right one," he said, "Magic doesn't count as a leap in logic. It's too broad."

"Listen," I said, having grown tired of this conversation, "Whether or not you believe in magic is something that doesn't concern me. I do not care enough to keep arguing," I chuckled, "I mean, it was a little funny at the start, but mostly it boiled down to you lying to Megan. And I still haven't heard you apologize for that." I turned around and looked at him, raising my sunglasses to make eye-contact, "Why don't you go ahead and do that real quick, and then we can be done?" He looked contrite, dodging my eyes as he clenched his jaws.

"Sa-chan, please," Megan said, "It's fine, Wally, really. You don't have to—"

"I'm sorry, Megan," Wally said, "He's right, that was dickish of me. I was just… trying to impress you, I guess."

Megan gave a warm grin that he didn't deserve at all, "Just be yourself from now on, Wally. Even if… not believing in magic is weird," she said, "I'm sorry, it just… doesn't make any sense to me. But you're free to believe whatever you want!" As always, she was too eager to please, and not nearly forthcoming enough about negative feelings. She needed to fix that, or she'd only get hurt.

He grimaced and looked down in shame. "I guess I also didn't want to be judged."

"Then just believe in it," Artemis said, "It's not so hard. It's like you don't believe in tigers because you've never seen any with your own two eyes. It's not like we're telling you that the god you believe in is the wrong one."

"Whatever," Wally groused, "You don't get it."

From the corner of my eyes, I saw Superboy—sitting right next to me—look at me. With a pensive frown.

I debated on cracking open that fun jar of teenage spirit, but in the end I could freely admit that the Titans had seen enough drama for one day. I'd wait for him to bring it up, if he ever did.

Not for the first time, I felt the lack of Suguru's reassuring presence. I missed having friends that weren't complete pushovers.

000

As Abra's electricity crackled and danced like a lunatic symphony, shocking the life out of poor old Kenty, Klarion tilted his head back further, eyes wide and gleaming like a cat stalking an unsuspecting bird. The decrepit theater groaned around him, plaster dust falling like dirty snowflakes, but he heard none of it. His mind was already leaping from one chaotic idea to another, a kaleidoscope of mayhem spinning too fast for even him to catch.

His grin split wider, jagged, manic—like a shattered mirror reflecting a thousand terrible intentions. "Oh, ohhhh," he cooed, his voice dripping with glee. "What fun! What delicious, delectable fun!"

The air grew thick, heavy, vibrating with an unnatural pulse that only Klarion could control. He spun on his heel, throwing his arms out dramatically, as though addressing an unseen audience in the crumbling seats. "I know what you're thinking," he said, grinning at the seats, "Big Bad Klarion's going to serve the inheritor of the Limitless and the Six Eyes a bit of humble pie and show him how wide this world is. HAH!" he doubled over as he laughed, looking like the mirth had caused him physical pain. "Not quite. Yeah, not quite! You see, I'm his biggest fan! Me! I love him more than words can describe! I'd do anything for Satoru Gojo—anything!"

"Boss?" Abra's voice quivered.

"Forget the Light!" he bellowed, his words heavy with anger. "What do I care for their dreary, plodding plans? Their chess games? Their strategy? Blech!" He mimed vomiting, cackling as he staggered forward, hands clutching his stomach. Then his face snapped back to something unnervingly serious, his black eyes gleaming with feral intent. "But I got a new toy, and I wanna break him in."

"Boss… who are you talking to?" Abra Kadabra had stopped shocking Kenty to look at him in fear. "And… leaving the Light? Are you sure, boss?"

He had never been more sure.

In response to his divestment of that Orderly order that was the Light, the power of chaos surged in him, swirling and coiling like a living storm, responding to Klarion's reacquaintance with his domain. The Witch Boy imagined all the glorious ways this would play out. Oh, that arrogant, smug little man-child with his infinity and his grinning bravado. Gojo thought he was untouchable, unshakable, unkillable. The nerve. The sheer gall. How dare he exist so perfectly in Klarion's world of beautiful imperfection?

"Today, the untouchable is touched," Klarion whispered to himself, his voice barely audible but ringing like a sinister bell. "I'm gonna touch that boy, and I'm gonna touch him real hard!" He burst into giggles, the sound discordant and maddening.

Teekl meowed, leaping onto his shoulder, her red eyes flashing with concern. She didn't want to be blown up by the Cursed Technique Reversal. Klarion scratched behind her ears absentmindedly. "Oh, Teekl, don't look at me like that. You know this is going to be fun. So much fun."

One more plan then, to set off an even greater plan. And if that greater plan fell through—that was fine, too, for that was also chaos.

But today, Satoru Gojo would die.