The next day, after finishing his swordsmanship training, Gojo headed straight for the forest. Now that he had mastered the basics of the Limitless, it was time to move on to its advanced application—Blue. Practicing it indoors wasn't an option; if he accidentally activated it inside his house, the place would be reduced to rubble.
Gojo decided to go to the forest to train his Blue technique. After some searching, he found a suitable spot—a small hill with a flat top, open and quiet, with only a couple of trees nearby. It was the perfect place for training. The morning air was cool, the faint rustle of leaves the only sound around him.
Standing at the centre of the hill, Gojo removed his blindfold and his focus sharpen, his Six Eyes perceiving everything around him down to the atomic level. He closed his eyes briefly, recalling how Blue functioned. It was a technique used by Gojo Satoru in Jujutsu Kaisen, allowing him to create limitless space by manipulating the area between particles. The world, unable to tolerate that absence, would rush to fill it—causing the signature pulling effect.
With that image clear in his mind, Gojo steadied his breathing, opened his eyes, and began. He extended his hand, focusing the Limitless around him, trying to manipulate the particles in front of him, to separate them infinitesimally and create that invisible void.
Nothing happened.
Again, he tried. And again. His brow furrowed as the minutes stretched into an hour. The ground bore faint marks where his control wavered, but not once did the air stir with the pull of Blue.
Despite the growing frustration, Gojo didn't push himself to exhaustion. He was deep in the forest—an unsafe place to collapse from fatigue. If I drain myself here, I won't even make it back home, he thought, exhaling slowly as he released his focus and tied his blindfold back on. The forest remained still, the wind brushing past him in quiet mockery.
Although Gojo failed to achieve even basic mastery of Blue, he wasn't disheartened. In fact, he felt motivated. His control over the Limitless had improved—just slightly, but even that small progress was enough to encourage him. So, Gojo maintained his routine. He trained every day, only going hunting once a week and making the most out of each hunt. So far, he hadn't managed to take down any large beasts—no tigers, bears, or lions—but that didn't bother him. The money he earned from smaller prey was more than enough. And like that, a month quietly passed.
Gojo stood once again atop the small hill in the forest, the same place where he had first begun his training. The air was crisp, the forest hushed as if waiting. With his Six eyes active, he focused on the space before him. He controlled the space around him with precision, trying to create an infinite gap between particles—a void so absolute that the world itself would rush to fill it.
And then, finally, it happened.
The faint pull of Blue emerged—a subtle distortion in the air. A few blades of broken grass lifted from the ground, trembling as they drifted toward the small azure core that shimmered faintly before him. Nearby leaves fluttered, caught in its gentle attraction, and the air around Gojo wavered, as if bending toward that single point.
A slow smile formed on Gojo's lips. Today, he had done it. He had finally grasped the basic form of Blue. From here, he would have to polish it, refine it, make it perfect. But this first success—this tiny victory—was enough.
And so, Gojo continued to live like this, training day after day. Nothing remarkable happened in his life for a while, yet each passing moment carried him closer to mastery.
It had been almost five months since Gojo arrived in Cloverbook Village. He was sitting at his table, quietly eating lunch, when a knock echoed through the small house. Setting his chopsticks down, Gojo rose and opened the door—Rick stood there, smiling faintly beneath the afternoon light.
"Thankfully, you're here," Gojo said, relief in his tone. "I've been trying to contact you for the past three months. I told you countless times to come take the money so you could give it to the sword shop—so I can finally fulfill my promise to pay the sixty thousand berries debt the shop owner covered for me."
Rick chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's exactly why I came today. I want to return the money, but I didn't want to pay it from my own pocket," he said, laughing softly. "After all, I was the one who guaranteed you."
Gojo smiled under his blindfold, stepping aside to let him in. "Then come in. No point talking at the door."
Rick entered, taking a seat at the low table while Gojo poured him a cup of water. The simple sound of the liquid filling the cup filled the quiet room.
Rick glanced around before meeting Gojo's covered gaze. "I'm really grateful for what you've done," he said sincerely. "My wife told me you've been giving her a share of the meat you hunt from the forest. That means a lot to me and my family."
Gojo leaned back slightly, his tone calm but firm. "Don't worry about it. It's only natural. You helped me before—I'm just returning the favour." He paused for a moment, his expression unreadable beneath the blindfold. "When the time comes in the future, if you can help me, then help me."
Rick nodded quietly at those words, understanding the weight behind them. Outside, the wind stirred through the village, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and cooking fires.
Then Rick asked, "I heard you left the sword dojo after only ten days. Was it not to your liking?"
Gojo leaned back slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips beneath the blindfold. "The sword dojo was fine," he said. "I mastered the basics of swordsmanship on my own, and as you already know, I'm a Devil Fruit user. My swordsmanship needs to evolve in that direction—ordinary training won't be enough for me." He paused for a moment, recalling the match. "Just a few days ago, I defeated Master Kishimoto's senior-most disciple, Yamashiro. Now, only Master Kishimoto himself can offer me a real challenge. As for training, I do it here—either at home or in the forest."
Rick nodded thoughtfully, impressed yet again by Gojo's determination.
Rick had once envied Gojo for having the chance to eat a Devil Fruit, just like everyone else in the world envied those who possessed one. Having a Devil Fruit meant guaranteed strength—or at least the potential for it—if luck was on your side. But Rick wasn't jealous anymore; he understood that everyone had their own share of fortune and struggle.
Gojo reached for a small bundle of money resting nearby and placed it on the table before Rick. "Take this," he said calmly. "Give it to the sword shop owner and tell him I really like the sword. It's a fine piece of work."
Rick accepted the bundle with a nod. "Alright, I'll deliver the message." He stood, giving Gojo a short bow before heading toward the door.
As Rick stepped outside, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the village road. Gojo remained seated inside.
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