Satoru was born special, with the sky in his eyes and the boundless

infinity

in his veins. He was born and the world stopped, curses faltered, curse users halted, and sorcerers rejoiced.

His mother wept; his father laughed. Both out of joy.

He was born and all sorcerers were clambering for a chance to bless and be blessed by him, a babe that can barely open his eyes.

Even the other two major clans had to give some face, as bitter as they were about their marked decline in power from his birth.

For he was a blessed child, a child that shall know no pain nor struggles in his life. Blessed by the heavens with eyes that are the skies themselves. With boundless curse energy beneath his soft, infant skin. And strength that can one day rival myths and legends.

Satoru was raised accordingly. He was raised to

be