Satoru wondered how many human beings had once stood where he stood, and looked upon the sight before him. Probably none. Or, if there were at all, probably very few. Because, this was... something else entirely, something he'd never once imagined in all of his years of existence and life. Not once did Satoru consider the possibility that he'd be welcomed by an alien race into their home, their moon-sized vessel. Not even in his wildest dreams.
But this, before him now, a sight displayed with his Six-Eyes, was real. There was no denying it. He was here, in an alien ship. And he looked on from what was essentially a first-class cabin, meant for someone who should've been far more important than himself. Satoru sat on a couch that was so perfectly soft that he wished he'd never have to stand every again. There was a bed in his private chambers too, but if it was anything like the couch he'd probably just sleep for a whole damn week. Dangerous as hell.
There were also snacks, weirdly enough. Or, at least, they might've been snacks. He had no idea what they were, in truth, but they sure as hell looked edible. An Eldar Warrior had walked in a few minutes after he was shown his quarters, holding a tray that had been filled with all manner of... things. Some were circular, others were angular, some were monotonous in color, and some held every color he could think of. A bunch of them could not be described at all, appearing closer to... weird blobs. One thing that kind of brought them all together, however, was the fact that they all kind of looked like food.
"For you, my lord." The Eldar Warrior said, bowing after he set the tray down and walked right out, not even bothering to explain just what the fuck he'd brought him. So, like any sensible and rational adult, Satoru grabbed one and placed it in his mouth. He was also hungry.
It was... kind of sweet, like cake, but not overpoweringly sweet. Hints of tart and nutty notes accompanied the sweetness, followed by a sharp, but pleasantly sour aftertaste that only briefly lingered over his tongue, before washing away completely. By the time he'd fully swallowed the fruit/candy thing, it was as though he'd not tasted anything at all, his palate cleansed by the very thing he ate. Amazing. Hopefully, this was food and not some other weird thing he knew nothing about. But, honestly, what else could it have been for? It tasted pretty good too.
So, with his mind full of doubt, Satoru grabbed another one and plopped it into his mouth. Ah, this one was more nutty, he noted, kind of like cashew, but creamier, with notes and hints of... was that smoke? Strange combination, but holy shit did it work like a damn charm. Easily one of the best sweet treats he'd ever eaten. The depth of flavor was simply extreme – layers upon layers, a hundred ingredients to make a single dish. It was... more than just food, he realized, it was an experience, a whole ass fucking journey for his tongue. Dango was better though. Sweet and simple.
But these Eldar sweets were pretty damn good.
Looking at them with Six-Eyes, however, revealed faint traces of Cursed Energy about them. Why that was, Satoru did not know. The lingering energies didn't seem to really do anything; so, he wasn't worried. It seemed likely, however, that whoever made these did so with all that they were, pouring heart and soul into every treat so that each one was perfect – more than perfect. Such imprints were rare on Earth, but they did happen – usually with artists who labored years and years to create a masterpiece, imparting tiny bits of their essence onto their craft, which reflected their soul. For Cursed Energy to be imprinted on fucking food... Satoru couldn't even begin to fathom just how much time, effort, and practice went into the mastery of creating such things, the extreme dedication.
It was... simply baffling.
Was this how they approached... well... everything?
Because it was kind of similar to traditional Japanese Artisans, but the level of dedication and mastery was dialed up to 11.
And to be entirely fair, it paid off. Each one of the treats was so masterfully created, so perfectly seasoned and flavored, that to refer to them as simple desserts wouldn't encompass just what they were. The one thing that would've made it better was if the Farseer, Caoimhe, was here to eat it with him. Or, anyone, really. Eating alone was kind of weird. Also, he'd really love to eat her out if he could, because damn- wait, a minute. Nope, focus on the candies, Satoru. And so he did. He stared at them hard enough that some of them began to wilt.
Holy shit, he was hyper-fixating ona bunch of damn treats. He was also horny, but you can't really blame a guy for that, because it has been a while. Looming threats and all that were not good for a person's sex life, not even for one as freakishly hot as he was – the one thing he could still lord over Sukuna. Fuck that guy. All his paintings were ugly and he was probably also ugly by association.
Sighing, Satoru turned his attention back to the viewing platform and grinned as their ship descended, a bubble of pure Cursed Energy enveloping the vessel, protecting it from the rigors of – what he assumed to be – atmospheric reentry. But, his eyes, in particular, was fixed upon the land below, the whirling interconnected silver spires that stretched above the clouds, the vast plains and mountains, the beautiful gorges and rivers, the little meadows with alien flowers and growths, the monolithic structures and statues of people who had way too many spikes on their armor, and the vast network of Positive Energies that utterly suffused the place, present in the air, the water, and the soil. No Cursed Spirit could possibly manifest in such a place; they'd just be reduced to ashes. Healing and regeneration would also be so much easier here.
The door to his chambers hissed open. Someone appeared behind him, falling to a knee.
"Lord Gojo," He didn't recognize the voice, but the tone was clear. This must've been one of the people he'd freed from the Mark of She-Who-Thirsts or that Thirsty Bitch in the Cursed Realm. Satoru turned and raised a brow. Standing there was an Eldar Warrior, a Swooping Crane as they called themselves. "We shall be landing shortly. Please, come with me. A retinue has been prepared for you; hostilities are possible. There are many who do not understand and many more who do not believe. We will protect you with our lives if necessary."
Satoru nodded. "Where's Caoimhe? She busy?"
"She is preparing the necessary wards of protection, my lord," The warrior said. "She has predicted that the other Farseers may become hostile; they may feel threatened by your presence. She is preparing to subdue them and force them to listen and see reason. Once they've witnessed your ability, my lord; they'll believe you."
"How'd you guys convince the other ships?" Satoru asked. There were about a dozen ships in the fleet that'd come to investigate their little derelict vessel. He was only on one of them and the crew of this ship almost came to blows with the Eldar who'd sworn themselves to him, stopping only when he burned the mark off of another of their kin, which resulted in everyone in the ship swearing absolutely fealty and loyalty to him.
Fucking sick.
"The Farseer enlightened them, my lord." The Warrior answered. "She showed them what you've done and what you could do for our people – for our future. And they stood down; they wouldn't dare raise their weapons against you, my lord – not if they aren't traitors to the Aeldari."
The enlightenment thing likely involved some kind of mind-altering Cursed Technique, the same kind of psychic ability that'd very briefly pierced Infinity. If it could be used to harm the mind, then it surely should have lesser variants that didn't harm, but transmitted messages instead, thoughts and emotions. Yep, definitely within the realm of possibility. The only real question now was why couldn't the Farseer simply use that same enlightenment thing on her fellow Farseers. The simplest possible answer? Mental wards and blocks. Surely, those who trained to kill minds would have the ability to defend themselves from the same techniques they threw around.
But, whatever; he couldn't reasonably predict how alien minds and alien cultures worked.
"Alright, dude; I get it." Satoru said, walking towards the kneeling warrior. "Rise. And take me to where it is we should be going."
The vessel wasn't large by any means. And so it only took them a minute or so to reach a large, open chamber, where every Eldar on the ship gathered. Satoru immediately recognized Caoimhe, standing at the center, surrounded by floating wards and symbols – spells, more like it. He knew, immediately, with Six-Eyes, that the wards were, in fact, as the Warrior said, meant to protect him, meant to shield his mind from the other Farseers. How thoughtful of her. Satoru also vaguely recognized the others around her – most of them were Warriors, while the rest were the ship's crewmen.
Why were they here?
The moment they noticed his presence, the Eldar fell to their knees, bowing their heads. Satoru wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to feel about this. On one hand, it felt great to have a bunch of aliens bowing at his feet; on the other hand, he really didn't like the idea that he was now kind of responsible for them, considering they all pledged themselves to him and he couldn't exactly say no after the fact. So now, he felt like Brian, from the Life of Brian, or Paul Atreides.
Screw it. He was bolting the moment someone called him messiah or some shit like Muad-dib. Gojo Satoru was a free spirit. He'd help people whenever he could, but he'd never anchor himself to one place, especially not in this freaking Galaxy, where everyone he knew and loved and cared about simply did not exist. He'd aid the Eldar as much as he could, but he'd eventually move on when he felt like it and they were not going to stop him; though, based entirely on the nature of the Mark of the Thirsty Bitch, they'd probably try very hard to get him to stay by them.
"Lord Gojo," One of them said. Satoru wasn't sure which one, though. "You honor us with your presence."
"Lord Gojo, did you enjoy the desserts?!"
"Hey guys." Satoru said, raising a hand. The only one who wasn't on the floor, on their knees, was Caoimhe, and it was probably only because she was busy with... her Cursed Technique or whatever it was she was doing. "Guys, please, get up. This is just getting weird. And, yes, the desserts were amazing. But, please, get up."
And they did, which was even weirder, because it just meant they were willing to obey pretty much every word he said. Sighing, he walked up to Caoimhe, the crowds dispersing around him. "Am I supposed to expect this in the Craftworld? It's nice to be appreciated, don't get me wrong, but it just feels, kind of... eh, what's the word... oh, yeah, it feels fucking weird."
"You gave them hope, Lord Gojo," Caoimhe answered, smiling faintly, her emerald eyes shimmering with faint starlight. Damn, she was gorgeous. "Before you came along, the Aeldari have accepted that our souls will be devoured by She-Who-Thirsts; sure, there are ways to stall for time, halt the inevitable doom that awaits us, but soul-stones can be broken and destroyed and even Infinity-Circuits can be breached. But then you came along and showed us... well... hope."
"They knelt, because you saved them from eternal damnation, gave them their future again. The Aeldari are a proud people, but they will gladly fall to their knees to show respect to the one who brought hope." She gestured at her fellow Eldar. And Satoru looked at them – really looked. And he saw, in their eyes and on their faces, hope and happiness. Many of them were smiling, laughing among each other. There was a lightness to them, he noted, that clearly hadn't been there before. And something stirred in his heart, something he'd not felt in a long time. And Satoru had no idea what it was.
"Even if you cannot free all of us," Caomihe added. "To have the next generation be born free of the mark of She-Who-Thirsts would still be the greatest gift we'll have ever received from anyone. And so, Lord Gojo, I'd say it is only natural to expect such adoration and praise; it is the least we could offer the one who brings us hope."
"I see." Satoru frowned, but otherwise nodded. Tsk. Now he really didn't like what he was feeling.
"We are landing." Someone said. The vessel buckled for a moment. And then... nothing.
The wall opened up in front of him. And then, his senses screamed in alarm.
"There's the abomination!"
"Destroy it!"
Huh, well this was nice.