Author Note(June 2024): Some people have uploaded my story on YouTube and Wattapad without my permission. So. if you see anyone uploading any of my stories, then let me know. Also, it is futile to ask me for permission because I will not give anyway.
•Prologue•
Struggling to pierce the haze that enveloped his vision, he sought the figure at his side, a presence both comforting and indistinct.
The world before him was a blur, a watercolor wash where forms and light merged into obscurity.
Sukuna's wrath had cleaved him asunder, a fate that should have spelled his end. Yet, here he lingered, teetering on the precipice between life and oblivion. Was Shoko's healing touch the thread by which he clung to this world? His limbs were distant memories, unresponsive. He, Satoru Gojo, the revered master of the Reversed Cursed Technique, now faced the ultimate defeat.
Pride had always been his mantle, the unshakable belief in his unmatched strength. But perhaps, it was a mere illusion. True, Sukuna had enlisted Mahoraga, but still…
A weary sigh escaped him, not in breath but in thought. His trust lay with his comrades, their victory against the King of Curses was within reach. His faith was unyielding, particularly in Yuta, Yuji, Hakari… and Naruto.
Naruto, the prodigy who eclipsed them all. In mere months, he wielded Infinity with a finesse that outshone Satoru's own. His arsenal brimmed with techniques—Rasengan, clones, transformation, mastery over the elements. His prowess in speed, strength, and intellect surpassed all Satoru had mentored. The boy, a mere six years of age, had even perfected the Black Flash. His Domain Expansion was unparalleled in its versatility and power. It was astounding.
Satoru harbored no doubt; they would prevail. They would dismantle Kenjaku's dark designs. With such formidable allies, Sukuna's downfall was inevitable.
Oh, how he yearned to join their triumphant chorus, to revel in the aftermath of their hard-won battle. His heart ached for a glimpse of Megumi…
A solitary tear traced its path down his cheek.
Oh, the irony… Satoru Gojo, hailed as the mightiest sorcerer of his time, now reduced to tears.
"There, there," a voice, soft and feminine, reached him through the fog. 'Is she mocking me?' A wry chuckle echoed within his mind.
"Don't cry, baby," the voice coaxed again. "Mama is here."
Had he the strength, he might have lashed out in defiance. To jest at death's door—what cruelty.
'Kind lady, spare me your taunts. Grant me solace in my final moments.'
"There, there," the voice persisted.
"Ma'am," another voice interjected, youthful and tinged with concern. "It is time for you to rest. You have been awake for quite some time now." The younger voice, laced with a hint of authority, seemed to cut through the haze that clouded his senses.
"Please, let him have this moment," she implored, her words carrying the weight of empathy and understanding.
The room fell silent, save for the steady beeping of machines and the distant hum of life beyond these walls. In this quiet, Satoru found a strange comfort, a respite from the chaos that had defined his existence.
He could sense them now, his comrades, their spirits intertwined with his own. They were out there, fighting battles he could no longer join, yet he felt no envy, only pride. Their strength was his legacy, their courage a testament to the bonds they shared.
As the darkness beckoned, Satoru Gojo, the indomitable force of the jujutsu world, allowed himself a final indulgence—a memory of days filled with laughter, challenges overcome, and the faces of those he cherished.
And in that fleeting moment, he was at peace.
The surprising thing was— he didn't feel cold. He felt warm. It was a nice feeling. He was going to heaven? God was pleased with him? Good. At least he could meet everyone there sooner or later once he reached there.
'So this is the end?' He thought. 'The end of not-so-honored-one. I was born alone, now I am dying alone. I think it's time I officially announce: Throughout the heavens and Earth, I alone, am not the honored one.'
He soon drifted into darkness.
In a world where the extraordinary had become the ordinary, where the once fantastical was now the everyday, a woman with hair like the verdant depths of an ancient forest tenderly pressed her lips to the soft, unblemished forehead of her newborn. The age of quirks had ushered in an era of acceptance for the diverse and the peculiar, yet amidst this tapestry of the unique, her child stood out as a beacon of singularity.
He was a vision of serenity, his aura a tranquil melody that soothed the soul. His breaths, a symphony of life's rhythm, whispered promises of a harmonious future.
The boy bore her visage, her emerald tresses, and even the constellation of freckles that danced across his cheeks like delicate brushstrokes. He was the epitome of endearment, a stark contrast to Hiashi, his father. Her heart swelled with love as she gazed upon him, but as his eyes fluttered open, a gasp of wonder escaped her.
His eyes were not mirrors of her own; they were windows to a vibrant soul. Not green, but the lustrous jade of dawn's first light, gleaming with untold potential.
She had thought to name him Izuku, yet as she looked upon him, the name felt like a garment ill-fitted for a king. Unbidden, a different name flowed from her lips, "Satoru," a name that echoed with the promise of enlightenment.
"Welcome to the realm of heroes, Satoru Midoriya," she whispered, her fingers gently tracing the contours of his face. "You are destined for greatness beyond measure."
The infant met her gaze, and in the simplicity of his yawn, there lay a charm that transcended words.
Unbeknownst to Inko Midoriya, this moment was a fulcrum upon which history would pivot.
This is the tale of Satoru Midoriya,
An Honored One.
Author Note:
This is calm before storm. The next chapter will come with bundles of shocks and surprises.
I shall update this story only when I hit 50 Favorites and follows.
Till next time!