Finding the name of the deity became the Batcave’s new mission.
But they quickly realized—it was a nearly impossible one.
Dick tried to take the lead. He pulled out his laptop, opened a blank document, and offered, “We could make a list. Read out names one by one. Maybe Jason will react to one of them.”
Three seconds after that suggestion, Tim looked like he’d aged a decade. His brain flashed through global databases, name etymologies, archaic linguistic roots—then came to a conclusion: if they did it that way, they'd all die of old age in the Batcave.
“We need something more precise,” he muttered, folding his arms and slumping into his chair.
So they began assembling every shred of information they had, laying it across the whiteboard like a jigsaw puzzle:
– Girl from the slums6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIeiXTfnYQ0
– Communicated using sign language6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYzrfbyrqaa
– Liked grapes6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGqxwwYWMNc
– Carried a knife, possibly involved in organ-related incidents6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡozGqkmrkyn
– White rose (symbolizing death or purification?)6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfhv9ZsySIq
– Scrapbooks (memorial? remembrance? ritual?)6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnhMIh8OI7t
– Connection to Jason
Seven pieces of information. Seven nails in the board. Like seven silent curses pinned in place.
They stood in front of the board in heavy silence.
Dick looked conflicted. Tim stared downward, deep in thought. Damian, hands in his pockets, spoke flatly, “Even the world’s greatest detective wouldn’t be able to make sense of this.”
After another heavy pause, they decided to contact Zatanna again.
Soon, her voice message arrived.
“If the traces left behind feel... jagged, distorted, forcibly erased... then I don’t think this was the work of a god.”6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPs6voHfXg0
Zatanna’s voice was uncharacteristically low—no sarcasm, no flair. Only caution. And weight.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmnBQYx0Vfs
“I suspect… she was noticed by the Will of the World.”
Silence fell like a curtain over the Batcave.
Tim murmured, “The Will of the World…?”
“This universe, this world,” Zatanna continued, “is governed by a force that keeps its order. It’s not a god—but it’s colder than one. When something foreign enters the system, or when someone touches a forbidden truth… it will try to erase them.”
Batman’s tone was as steady as always—but just beneath, a sliver of tightly held fury:6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡow3AFKtvNp
“Why? What did she do to deserve that?”
“It’s simple,” Zatanna replied quickly, as if not giving herself the chance to hesitate.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7Tj2q137SD
“She altered the rules.”
“She touched something in this universe that should never have been touched.”
Jason, who’d been leaning quietly against the wall, flinched.
He suddenly turned to the comm terminal and began tapping the message box. He didn’t know why he was so afraid of the answer. But he typed it anyway:
What rule?
His fingers trembled.
The lights in the room seemed to dim ever so slightly.
There was a pause—long enough to feel like a drumbeat in the distance—before Zatanna replied, her voice eerily calm:
“Jason... you were once dead.”
Resurrection. It sounded like a miracle.
But in the far corner of the Batcave, the man in question did not see it that way.
Everyone slowly turned toward him.
Jason Todd had been standing there for a long time. Ever since Zatanna told him he’d once died, he hadn’t moved a muscle.
Jason Todd, age 22.
If there was any “divine blessing” on his life, he certainly didn’t feel it.
If anything, he was cursed.
Born in the slums. Abused. Betrayed by his mother. Tortured by the Joker. Spent a year in a coma. Lost the title of Robin.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc8SQMUyawY
He didn’t even finish high school.
If life were a drama, he was that character written purely to make audiences cry.
But no one cries forever. Eventually, they change the channel.
Still… in this absolute mess of a storyline… maybe—he wasn’t sure—but maybe…
There had been someone.
Someone who held his hand when no one was watching.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGVve0AnqU9
Who walked with him through hell.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPrNlu7ScAx
Who even—maybe—killed the nightmare that haunted him.
She… brought him back to life.
Where was she?6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbyuY9ei2wy
Where the hell was she?
What was her name?
Fuck. He couldn’t remember.
She knew he liked white roses.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzsLtTkvcQy
And he didn’t even know what flower she liked.
Fuck.
Was she there when he died?6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTzUd91VLdF
Did she lay the rose?
Jason clenched his teeth and moved his hand.
He opened the terminal for the first time and played the footage Batman had left from the warehouse that night.
Onscreen, Batman climbed over the knives, found him, and checked for a pulse.
The camera shook slightly.
There, on his chest—was a white rose.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUoy9YJHBfl
It fell away, revealing the “R” on Robin’s suit.
Jason paused the footage, staring at that “R” for a long time.
6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeABtCx4SR4
6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4EeQvUKaQF
Then he turned sharply and bolted toward Alfred.
“Alfred,” he asked, his voice tight with urgency, “do we still have the Robin costume from that night?”
Alfred blinked in surprise. He paused.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnOtblAj3vA
And in that pause, Jason’s breath stretched thin as a wire.
Then the old butler smiled—soft and steady.
“Of course, Master Jason. Second cabinet in the archive room... bottom shelf.”
Before he even finished, Jason was gone.
The others followed, confused, as Jason flung open the cabinet and pulled out the nearly shredded uniform.
The torn fabric. The dried blood. All of it confirmed how brutal that night had been.
Jason’s hands trembled as he dug through the chest emblem—the “R”.
And then he found it.
He touched it. Froze.
Everyone watched in silence as Jason pulled something out from behind the “R”.
Damian squinted. “Is that… a paper shuriken?”
Everyone stared.
A paper shuriken. A folded paper dart.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBqgbzb0xNp
A game Gotham kids played, imitating Batarangs.
What the hell was that doing there?
Jason took a deep breath.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTovVhdF1LW
Unfolded it carefully.
Each layer was folded in a specific way.
And when it was fully opened, it was a piece of paper.
He held it in his hands—this time, his hands did not tremble.
But the others… froze.
One drop. Then another.
—
Tears fell in silence, landing on the page like raindrops in a deep well.
Blessings to Jason Todd.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡn2y39g36pp
May you live every day in peace and joy.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCjdkJmt164
May all sadness and pain vanish.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgttX39NhBO
And may every sun, moon, and star guide your way,6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOnOejLSOqe
so you’ll never feel lost again.
— Nana
6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsBEW64MHuN
