The Ancient One walked through the corridors of Kamar-Taj with an unreadable expression. Behind her, Mordo kept pace.
As they passed, disciples stopped whatever training they were doing to bow. Their eyes, however, inevitably drifted to the bundle in her arms.
The sight of a sleeping baby with white hair held by the Sorcerer Supreme immediately set off a wave of gossip. It wasn't every day a literal infant was brought into the sanctuary of the mystic arts, especially when it was by her.
It didn't take long before they eventually reached the heavy wooden doors of a central hall. Through the entrance, one can see a brass-colored medallion featuring a metallic eye design resting on a stone pedestal.
"You may leave us, Mordo," the Ancient One said calmly.
Mordo hesitated for a second before bowing. "As you wish, Master."
Before he could say more, she already moved.
The large doors sealed themselves shut behind her as she stepped inside.
The Ancient One then approached the center of the hall where the Eye of Agamotto sat.
With a quick, fluid gesture of her hand, a platform of orange sparks materialized beneath the swaddle. She let go, leaving Satoru levitating gently in the air beside her.
She looked down at the sleeping infant. "Now then," she murmured. "Let's see who you really are."
She lifted the Eye of Agamotto from the pedestal and wore it around her neck, her hands then began to move in a series of practiced gestures, tracing the complex symbols needed to unlock the seal on the relic.
The Eye of Agamotto clicked open with a mechanical whir to reveal the glowing emerald core of the Time Stone.
The Ancient One didn't hesitate as green runic circles manifested around her wrists, their clockwork gears spinning in opposite directions as she reached and focused on the spell she was casting on the infant, Satoru.
She wasn't just trying to peer into his probable futures, she was attempting to see if the baby's existence broke the flow of time.
As the light of the Stone washed over the baby, the Ancient One's serene expression finally faltered. Usually, when she peered into a soul using the relic, she would see a 'tree' of infinitely branching possibilities, the echoes of variants living different lives in different futures.
But with Satoru, there was only a single, blinding line of light.
"Impossible," she whispered. The Time Stone began to pulse violently, the green light turning unstable as it moved near the boy's head. The relic wasn't just observing him, it was reacting to him.
The Stone revealed a startling truth to her at that moment.
In the infant's future, there was no 'branching static', which means there are no other versions of him in other possible timelines, hence the absence of infinitely branching possibilities on his soul.
'He's… a Singularity.' The Ancient One fell into thought when she concluded.
Unlike others, a Singularity is not bound by typical branching timelines and the consequences that come with tampering it because the universe intrinsically recognizes them as a constant.
While she had never encountered a living Singularity, the Ancient One was aware of their nature. The very relic she held, the Time Stone, was itself a remnant of a Singularity, a primordial constant from the dawn of creation.
She felt a brief temptation to push the Stone further to force a vision of his future, but she stopped. It wasn't just a matter of her wanting to, but she knew she couldn't. The Stone recognized him as a constant, but it couldn't predict a path that wasn't yet written.
For the first time in centuries, the Sorcerer Supreme was stumped. She stood in the silence of the hall, watching the peacefully sleeping infant float in his cradle of sparks.
"You are a question I cannot yet answer," she finally said with a faint, weary smile. "And I have always found the unknown to be the most persistent of teachers."
She deactivated the Stone, the mechanical eye snapping shut with a click.
She decided to…
…
[ 16 Years Later - Whitehall Palace Street, London ]
Satoru was weaving through the lunch-rush crowds on the street, a paper bag of fresh crepes in one hand and his phone in the other.
He was wearing a charcoal blazer and trousers with John-Lennon Style sunglasses.
Whenever he passed, women would stop, their eyes glued to his face, his white hair and the casual, confident way he moved. He didn't notice, or more likely, he was just used to it.
He pushed open the heavy doors of the London Sanctum. Inside, the air was cool and smelled of old paper. At the center of the foyer stood Sol Rama, the Master of the Sanctum.
"Master Rama! My favorite grumpy gatekeeper!" Satoru's voice rang out, shattering the silence.
Sol Rama's eyelid twitched. "Master Gojo, the Ancient One expects you at the training grounds of Kamar-Taj an hour ago. You're late, again." Sol Rama sighed, his gaze dropping to the paper bag in Satoru's hand. "And I see you prioritized your sweets over the Ancient One's summons."
"They're crepes and the line was huge. Besides," Satoru pulled out a thin, folded pancake and took a large, satisfied bite. "Time is relative, isn't it? That's what the glowing gold eye thing is for."
He walked past the older master, his gait lazy yet confident.
"The Ancient One doesn't use the Eye of Agamotto to track what sweets you're gonna be eating, Satoru," Rama called after him, though he knew it was useless.
"She should! She'd see I always get the strawberry filling," Satoru waved a hand over his shoulder.
"The gateway is open in the library," Sol said through a sigh. "Try not to get crumbs on the books."
"No promises!" Satoru called out, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings.
He sauntered into the library down the hall. At the very back center of the room stood a set of double doors, carved into its center was the Seal of the Vishanti, the iconic circular design with its four distinct, swooping curves.
As he approached, the Sanctum's enchantments recognized his signature, with a heavy creak and clicking of gears turning, the doors swung outwards on their own. When Satoru stepped through, the space rippled between the other side and the library.
He didn't head for the training grounds immediately. Instead, his gaze drifted toward the stone pedestal where the Eye of Agamotto rested.
Satoru stopped, offering a mock, two-finger salute to the relic. "Hey there," he murmured, a playful smirk on his lips. "Still keeping an eye on things? Don't worry, I'm only an hour late. Barely a blink for you, right?"
He gave the relic a friendly pat on its head before turning away with a hand into his pocket and the other still holding a bag of crepes.
He walked down the long, dark corridors of Kamar-Taj, passing by the sanctuary's own library that's bigger than any of the three Sanctums combined.
Finally, he stepped out into the main courtyard of Kamar-Taj.
The courtyard was busy. Dozens of disciples were mid-drill, their Sling Rings sparking in unison, but their rhythm faltered the moment he appeared.
All of the disciples stopped and bowed, even the masters instructing their students greeted Satoru which he reciprocated with a wave of his hand.
The past sixteen years Satoru Gojo had reincarnated as a baby into this world, he became the sanctuary's greatest enigma. He started learning the mystic arts at the age of eight, then not even a year later he was appointed as a master by the Ancient One.
He was looking at the balcony of the main temple, where the Ancient One and a few other masters stood watching the training below.
"I brought snacks!" Satoru shouted, cupping a hand around his mouth. Then, before they could blink, he appeared directly behind them. "They're still warm, do any of you want some?"
The Ancient One didn't turn around, but there was the ever present smile on her lips.
Mordo, one of the masters present, said from the side with a stern frown. "Your disciples have been standing in the training grounds for over an hour awaiting your lecture, Satoru. Your lack of discipline is setting a bad example."
Satoru shrugged, taking another bite of his crepe. "Relax, Mordo. They could use the extra time to chill. I haven't tasted crepes before, so I had to get some for myself."
"This isn't about food," Mordo snapped, finally turning to look at him. "It's about respect for the craft. If you can't show up on time to teach, you shouldn't be teaching at all."
The Ancient One chuckled softly. "He has a point, Satoru. Punctuality is a virtue, even for someone who lives by their own clock."
A robust, closely-shaven man wearing traditional ornate robes added with his deep voice. "A master who cannot master his own time, will soon find that time has become his master."
Satoru blinked, a bit of strawberry filling still on his lip. "That's deep, Wong. Did you find that in a fortune cookie?"
Wong couldn't help but crack a smile, along with the others except for Mordo.
Satoru saw this, and couldn't help but say something as he wiped his mouth. "Y'know, I can do some rhetorical chiasmus or antimetabole for you too Mordo, do you wanna hear it?" Before Mordo could say 'no', he continued regardless. "Don't face your fear, fear your face…"
"Pfft!" The masters present couldn't help but laugh and chuckle at that.
Mordo's lips twitched.
Satoru grinned while eyeing Mordo's broken finger that was a result from their most recent spar. "Here's a better one. Don't crack your finger, finger your crack…"
The balcony went dead silent.
Mordo's face went from a stern frown to a shade of deep, insulted crimson. Wong, who had been mid-chuckle, suddenly developed a very intense interest in a nearby painting, his shoulders shaking as he tried to cough away a laugh, but was failing miserably.
Even the Ancient One had to raise a hand to her mouth, her eyes crinkling with a mix of disbelief and genuine amusement.
"Satoru," the Ancient One said, her voice wavering with suppressed mirth. "That is quite enough."
"What? You gotta admit that was good," Satoru chirped, finishing the last of the crepe. He leaned back against the wooden railing of the balcony as he glanced at the training disciples. "Besides, Mordo, your problem is that you're too stiff. You think the universe will stop spinning if someone's five minutes late. If we, sorcerers, are always guarding the 'Natural Law', we will never actually get to enjoy the 'natural' part."
Mordo's face stayed red as he stepped closer. "The Natural Law is what keeps us from total chaos. It is the moral foundation of our duty with the oath we swore which you, for one, also did when you became a master. To ignore it for the sake of your own whims is akin to a betrayal of everything we stand for."
Satoru's smile didn't disappear, but his eyes sharpened behind his glasses. "...was that a moral argument? I hate moral arguments."
Mordo's brow furrowed. "What?"
"They're exhausting," Satoru said, waving a hand dismissively. "People use 'morality' as a mask because they aren't strong enough to just admit they want things to go their way. You think you're being righteous, but you're just being rigid. It's boring."
He paused and stared at the sky for a brief moment, then he finally added. "You know what? You're right, Mordo, I am selfish. But I'm also someone who can handle the dangerous stuff, so I think I've earned a pastry."
Mordo gripped the Staff of the Living Tribunal until his knuckles turned white. The orange energy of the relic hummed with his irritation. "You think strength is the only thing that matters? That because you're strong, you can do whatever you want?"
"No, I never said that," Satoru replied with a shake of his head. "But, I think being strong means I don't have to listen to lectures from people who can't even touch my blazer."
"Do you want to take this into the ring?" Mordo grounded out, the staff sparking.
Satoru grinned, sliding his sunglasses up his nose. "Fine by me. I've lost count of how many times you've asked to spar only to end up with another broken bone, but you still keep coming back for more. I guess you're a slow learner."
"Or just plain stupid," Satoru added with a grin as he leaned back and let gravity take him. He fell over the balcony railing, falling toward the courtyard below without a hint of hesitation.
Mordo didn't wait. He vaulted over the ledge, his Vaulting Boots of Valtorr clicking as he kicked off the air.
Satoru landed first, then Mordo a few paces away. "This spar would be different from last time, Satoru."
"Sure, sure," Satoru said, casually stuffing his hands into his pockets as he walked towards the training grounds with Mordo in tow.
Mordo's jaw tightened. "Your arrogance will be your undoing."
'Spot on, sherlock.' Satoru thought. Mordo was right on that one, he had fallen in his past life partly because of his arrogance, but against Mordo? Whom he'd fully known what capabilities the guy has? Humility wasn't something he owed to the guy.
Besides, it's just a spar, why does this guy always have to add stakes into it.
Satoru stopped at the edge of the sparring arena. His students, a mix of humans and various interdimensional beings, immediately stood up from the stone benches.
"Sorry I'm late, guys," Satoru said, flashing a peace sign. "I had to make a very important stop. Crepe quality control is a heavy burden, but someone has to do it."
He beckoned them closer with a casual wave. "Gather 'round. Today's lecture is moving to the field. Since Master Mordo is so worried about my 'lack of discipline,' I'm going to show you the difference in skill between masters in live combat."
Mordo huffed, the Staff of the Living Tribunal crackling as he took a fighting stance.
Among the students, a large, green-furred figure stepped forward. Rintrah, a minotaur-like apprentice, looked at Satoru with a mix of worry and respect.
"Master Gojo," Rintrah's deep voice rumbled. "Master Mordo looks particularly intent on the spar. Is it wise to teach a lesson with your hands still in your pockets?"
The fellow apprentices around Rintrah chuckled at his concern, making the minotaur glance between them questioningly. 'Did I say something funny?'
Satoru laughed, stepping into the center of the ring without taking his hands out of his trouser. He didn't even conjure a shield, not at all taking Mordo seriously. "You're the new guy, right? I didn't think the Ancient One would appoint an interdimensional apprentice to be my disciple. Either way, just watch and see, my big green disciple."
He glanced at Mordo. "Ready, Mordo?"
"Hmph!" Mordo lunged.
...
[Author's Notes]: I can't lie, I didn't think the chapter would lead here, but then again, Mordo and Satoru aren't really the two type of people whom you'd leave in a room in to mesh with and expect a desirable outcome or be buddy-buddy with each other.
That's a wrap for chapter two, let me know what you think.
Again, I haven't picked the LI of Satoru yet, especially knowing his personality he ain't really the romantic type, the most we've seen a part of that was with the throat GOAT Geto.
I don't even know if I would make have multiple LI. If you have a preference, do comment it down below to let me know so you guys can help me decide whether or not to have multiple LI or otherwise. And, if you have any a preferred LI in mind, smash it down below too.
If you have any spare powerstones, give it to me, it's a great motivator for writing more.
Ja ne~