Chapter Text
Here's the thing: despite all the bullying things his classmates, teachers and Kacchan have said to him, despite the fact that he returned home bruised and burned and sometimes even broken more often than not, despite the fact that he was useless, quirkless Deku....
Midorya Izuku did not want to die.
He might have thought about it, sure, but who hasn't? He's pretty certain that every person at least once thought what it would be like to, you know, jump off a building while looking down from a roof where the Number One hero left you after ruining your dreams (even if, no matter how much it hurt, Izuku knew he was right), but it's not like he would ever act on it! His mom would be sad, first of all, and that was the one thing Izuku would want to avoid at all cost. Kacchan would also get in trouble for kinda suicide baiting him, which would go on his record! Even All Might might (ha, Might) feel guilty for a bit if he ever finds out, which was even worse since he would have nothing to be guilty about, he just told Izuku the truth!
The point being, he didn't actually like his life, but he valued it somewhat.
Which is why he did not run towards a slime villain which already did almost kill him a few hours ago, did not throw his quite heavy with hero analysis notebooks at his head and did not try to bargain with the villain to let Kacchan go and take him instead, even if he would be useless for the villain (like always).
It's also why, after All Might showed up out of nowhere, he ran home as fast as he could, ignoring all calls since he did not want to get into trouble with police even more than he already had, and especially ignoring Kacchan's angry rant.
He did not want to die today, thank you very much.
Yet, when he found himself sitting in his room, surrounded by the posters of his hero he could not help but curl up on himself, remembering Kacchan glazed panicked eyes, the true form of All Might, the villain and the strange feeling of suffocation and something being shoved down his throat...
Izuku cried, silently like he always did, his stomach curling as if it tried to process whatever he swallowed when the Slime villain attacked, his eyes and head burning like it was splitting into two and cried, not knowing if it was the pain, the misery, his crushed dreams, the nightmare fuel that was Kacchan's eyes in that moment or all of it at the same time which made him curl up even more, with his body spasming in pain, until he finally, finally passed out.
(Nobody noticed the soft blue glow which his closed eyes shone with. Nobody noticed how parts of his hair became white so reminiscent of his father's. And, certainly, nobody noticed how the mind of a fifteen year-old quirkless child expanded, turned to negative to positive and rearranged itself to Infinity.)
(Nobody, but the one man who was not supposed to never wake up again.)
Here's the thing: Gojo Satoru very much did not want to die.
He knew, of course, that he was mortal. How couldn't he, after that incident? Yet, he hoped that he would at least live long enough to see his kids students become the great sorcerers he knew they would be. He wanted to see Yuuji live, free from the Curse that he had to unwillingly bear, from the fate that he was born for but the one he did not want.
(At least one vessel under his protection would live.)
He wanted to see Nobara become the woman she wanted to be, to not be held back by the old geezers who thought less of her just because of her being a girl, and, maybe, to finally ask her crush out. Maki and Nobara worked well together, and he hoped they would be happy.
But, more than anything, he wanted Megumi to live. To not be held back by him, to be happy, to not be ready to die when cornered.
He wanted his son to be happy.
But of course life is not that simple. Satoru thought he had no regrets when he died, yet somehow he found himself at the center of the Infinity once again.
Except, he couldn't leave.
He tried, mind you - even tried to Hollow Purple the infinite space, but it only went into a single direction before disappearing somewhere in the infinite distance.
"Well, duh, it's Infinite Void for a reason", Satoru mumbled to himself, flopping down on his back, face to the "sky".
Which, of course, led him to the most dangerous thing one could do - thinking.
He had no idea how he was alive - how he could be alive. He remembered clearly the day he died sliced clearly in half with blood pouring put of him as he tried to smile at his dear students and how he tried to convince himself that he had no regrets - well, it was, quite frankly, one of the worst days of his life. Maybe not the worst - this title goes to that day - but it was definitely up there.
So, was this the afterlife? Satoru doubted that. It was too similar to his own Infinity - not only in appearance, but in the energy he felt.
Was he alive, then? Satoru... hoped he wasn't. He might sound too full of himself or overly pessimistic, but he knows his birth in his time led to curses becoming stronger. So, if he was somehow alive or reborn or whatever, the same thing would happen. He didn't choose to be born - wasn't even aware of its implications until much, much later in life - but if he were to become alive (however that might be), or to be reborn in the new times - Satoru would be much too aware for his liking and might do something stupid - like, i dunno, "Mahogara" himself.
Which led him to the question: If Satoru was alive, then how? Rebirth or reincarnation is an option, sure, but those usually entail losing memories unless you're in a very angsty and self-indulgent fanfic, which he hoped he wasn't.
And there's also an option which he really didn't want to be the truth, but knowing his luck it might be exactly what happened to him.
Cursed objects.
Which is why he groaned so loudly when he felt his power flare up as if seeking a "host". Yep, it's cursed objects alright.
Satoru sighed and sat up straight. It was definitely that stupid Brain's fault somehow. Kenjaku was a slippery fucker, so he wouldn't be happy, but would not be surprised if he somehow lived or made a plan specifically to turn Satoru into cursed object(s) even if he was dead.
At least Satoru had... experience with beings incarcerated from cursed objects. Not a good one, but experience none the less.
Satoru stood up and looked over himself. If he did find a... vessel (and, ugh, it was so strange to think about), he might as well make a good first impression.
He put on his blindfold, shook invisible dust off his surprisingly not bloody uniform and looked around the Infinity.
Which is when he heard a loud thump behind him.
Turning around, Satoru looked over the boy. He was maybe 13 years old at the glance, and oh did that not sit right with him. Even Yuuji was older, and 15 is still a terrible age at which you should incarnate a cursed object into yourself.
(There's no best age, by the way. He hated the fact that any cursed object could incarnate at all, and he includes himself in that.)
He had green hair - a lot brighter than Maki's - and freckles on his face. The features that Satoru noticed straight up, however, were scars. He himself had a fair share of them, but he did NOT like the fact that this child (child) had so many burn scars, some of which looked like a hand.
Sighing, Satoru made a note for himself and went up to the boy, sitting down above him.
The (ex?) strongest sorcerer grinned as the boy started to slowly open his eyes, as if waking up from a dream.
(Satoru's heart stung when he saw that his eyes were red from tears, and some tear tracks weren't dry yet.)
Then, a brilliant idea came to him.
"Hey there-", he said in a cheerful voice as the boy's eyes flung open, he jumped up to his feet and
punched Satoru in the face.
A few moments passed as the boy looked somewhere between embarrassed, terrified and confused as Satoru touched his cheek were the boy's fist made contact.
"Yeah, I probably deserved that."