Soon, the assistant boy returned with a large register tucked under his arm. He gestured for Gojo to follow him. But when his eyes fell on the boy's blindfold, his brows furrowed slightly—he was about to say something when Gojo calmly stepped forward and walked straight toward him without hesitation, moving as if his sight were perfectly normal.
The assistant froze mid-breath, confusion flickering across his face. Can he actually see through that? Or… is it just for show? After a moment of quiet speculation, he shrugged inwardly. He had seen all sorts of odd habits among travelers—fetishes, superstitions, even people who believed wearing a blindfold improved focus—so he decided not to ask.
Clearing his throat, he asked politely, "Your name and age, please?"
"Gojo Satoru," Gojo replied evenly. "Age thirteen."
The assistant nodded and began writing in the register, his brush moving swiftly over the paper. In the duration column, he scribbled one month. That was the standard period for newcomers who paid upfront. Gojo had chosen that intentionally—he wanted to see if this dojo's methods were worth his time before committing further.
When the registration was done, Kishimoto turned toward Gojo, his voice steady but commanding. "You'll begin your sword training from tomorrow. My eldest student, Yamashiro, will be your instructor. He's the most skilled swordsman here after me. You'll learn all the basics under him. Once you've mastered them, you'll spar with other students—both new and experienced. Only after defeating Yamashiro will you earn the right to receive my personal guidance. Until then, do not expect my teaching. I may give you advice from time to time, but consider it rare."
Gojo inclined his head slightly, showing neither surprise nor complaint. What he wanted was simple—true swordsmanship. If this was the path, he would walk it without hesitation.
After the formalities, he and Rick left the dojo and headed toward the market. The streets bustled with late morning life—vendors shouting prices, the scent of fresh fish mixing with sizzling meat from food stalls. Guided by Rick, Gojo bought essentials for his new home: rice, vegetables, some cured meat, and a few household items. He knew he couldn't depend on Rick for meals every day. Once satisfied, Gojo thanked him, and they parted ways near the crossroads.
As the noon sun hung high, flooding the village rooftops with brilliant light, Gojo sat quietly in the hall of his small home. His blindfolded gaze tilted upward, lost in thought. He began to calculate—two months. That's how long his funds would last if he continued paying both the dojo fees and rent. After that, he would need income.
Still, there was one reassuring factor—his body. I recover too quickly, he thought, recalling the days after the Minnow Pirates' captivity. Starved and weak for two full days, he had returned to full strength after just a good meal and a few hours of rest. By normal logic, that shouldn't be possible.
If eating and resting can restore me this fast, he mused, then my training efficiency will be insane.
A faint, determined smile played on his lips. He planned to push himself beyond limits—to train like Garp himself. His young body might be untrained now, but that would change soon. His Limitless ability demanded stamina, and he intended to build it through sheer will and relentless effort.
No more wasted time, he thought, clenching his fist. If I'm going to thrive in this world, I'll need to become stronger than anyone else.
After confirming his plans and settling his thoughts about training, Gojo stood up from the tatami mat and left the room without hesitation. His footsteps echoed lightly through the quiet house as he tightened the knot of his blindfold. He needed to go to town—not to train, but to gather information. There were a few things he needed to know first: the current price of meat, which merchants paid the most for animal parts, which animal offered the highest value for its meat and hide, and where he could sell his hunting spoils in the future.
He had no intention of hunting immediately. First, I'll build this body up, he thought. Then I'll start swinging the sword for real. Though confident that his Devil Fruit powers could easily help him locate and capture prey even now, he wanted to rely on strength and skill, not just ability. For the moment, information came first.
Gojo's mind worked in order: learn the market, understand the prices, and focus on quality over quantity. It was the same principle he followed with his Six eyes—precision over power. No wasted movement, no wasted energy.
The first person who came to mind was Martha—the warm, outspoken woman who owned the restaurant he'd visited yesterday with Rick. Since she was in the food business, she would surely know the market for meat and the best merchants in town.
Within an hour, Gojo reached the familiar streets of the small town. The morning air carried the scent of freshly baked bread and sizzling oil from food stalls. Following the smell of seasoned broth, he soon stood before Martha's restaurant once again.
The bell above the door jingled softly as he entered. Martha looked up from the counter, surprise lighting her face. "Oh! Gojo, you're here again already? Don't tell me my cooking was that good!" she teased with a grin.
Gojo walked toward her, calm and composed. "I came mainly to ask you a few questions," he said. "If you're free, that is."
Martha waved her hand dismissively. "Of course I'm free. Ask away."
So he did.
Gojo asked about the going prices for meat from different animals, where hunters usually sold their kills, and which parts fetched the best value—skins, claws, fangs, bones. Martha listened patiently, occasionally leaning forward on her elbows as she explained.
By the end of their long talk, Gojo had a clear picture. Ordinary meats—boars, deer, rabbits—sold for about the same. But the meat from apex predators like lions, tigers, or bears was worth far more, prized for its rarity and supposed strength-giving qualities.
Martha finally said, "If you plan to sell your meat later, you don't need to worry about merchants. I'll buy from you directly at the same rate they pay me. That way, you won't get cheated."
Gojo nodded slightly in thanks. Martha then scribbled a few names on a slip of paper and handed it to him. "For other parts—skins, bones, whatever—you can visit these shops. They're reputable. And if you tell them I sent you, they'll treat you right."
Gojo accepted the note, folding it carefully into his pocket. Efficient and reliable, he thought. With this information, his foundation was set. Now all that remained was to train—harder and smarter than anyone else.
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