Power without control is not strength; it is chaos. A sword in untrained hands is more dangerous to its wielder than to any enemy.
Training is not just about gaining power—it is about mastering it, shaping it into precision rather than reckless force. Without discipline, even the greatest abilities become a double-edged blade, cutting down not only foes but also oneself."
True strength is not just the ability to unleash force, but the wisdom to wield it with precision.
training is the forge where raw potential is tempered into mastery, where reckless instinct is refined into skill. Without discipline, power turns against its own wielder, like a blade swung without aim or a storm without direction.
To grow stronger is not merely to increase one's might, but to ensure that might serves intent, rather than chaos."
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Time passed since that day.
Was it a month maybe? The days have blended amd blurred into each other, the same routine over and over.
He hasn't been back to school. Just with his uncle
Wake up. Eat breakfast. Train, spar with his uncle. Lunch. Study, read books about different concepts of maths, languages etc. One last training session. Dinner then sleep.
Simple routine. Or was it?
----------
Currently, he and his uncle, a man who's name was 'Koun Modo', though people who know him would call him 'Uncle Lucky', were in the backyard having one of their daily training sessions.
The sun was merciless, shining down on the training ground as Gojo stood, panting. His pale white skin turning red, and his hair in a tangled mess, lose stands sticking everywhere.
His small body ached, he was dripping with sweat, his clothes stuck to his skin, but his uncle remained unfazed. The old man hadn't broken a sweat. If anything, it was hilarious seeing a 6 year old trying to fight with a 29 year old man.
"You're too slow,"
his uncle muttered, arms crossed.
"Too predictable."
Gojo stood there, trying to catch his breathe.
Not even one hit
They've been at this for 2 hours, and not even one punch landed on the older man, but he himself had scratches and slight bruises around his body.
He hated that. Yes he was 23 years younger than the man infront of him, but at last one hit should connect. Right?
He got himself ready, straightening himself before mustering all the strength he had left to chage at Koun, using all the force and strength his body could muster.
His uncle side stepped effortlessly, countering just by sticking his foot out, just enough to throw him off balance.
Gojo hit the ground hard, before struggling to sit up.
"Damn it!" he spat, slamming his fist into the dirt.
His uncle sighed, rubbing his temples.
"You've got talent, ill admit that, but talent alone won't save your life. You rely too much on speed and brute force. What happens when someone faster shows up? Hell, you haven't even used your quirk, what was it again?"
He said scratching his head
"I.. I don't really.. It's complicated."
Gojo said pushing himself up to stand with what little strength he had.
His uncle's lips curled into a smirk. "Is that so?" He bent down, grabbed a small stone from the ground, and tossed it in his hand. "This should get it to react"
"Get wha-"
Gojo barely had time to react before the stone was shot through the air towards him
He saw it—his brain registered the movement, the trajectory. But for some reason, his body wouldn't move.
His breath hitched.
Move. Move!
The rock never touched him.
It stopped.
Inches from his forehead.
Gojo's heart pounded. His uncle remained still, eyes locked onto the floating stone. A strange silence settled between them, thick and suffocating.
Then, the stone dropped to the ground.
Gojo stumbled back, his mind racing. "What if that hit me! It was like a damn bullet!"
His uncle picked up another rock, rolling it between his fingers.
Without a word, he threw it again.
Same result.
The moment it neared Gojo, it slowed—like it was pushing against an invisible force—before coming to a complete stop.
Gojo's breaths were shallow. "Can... can you please stop that."
His uncle took a step forward, raising a fist. "Let's test something."
Gojo's eyes widened as the punch came toward him. Instinctively, he tensed, closing his eyes and lifted his arms up to protect his face..
But the fist never connected.
It was right there. Close enough to feel the pressure. But no impact.
It was as if something unseen had expanded between them, creating an infinite gap.
Gojo's knees almost gave out. His uncle stepped back, arms crossed. "You felt that, didn't you?"
Gojo swallowed hard.
"O-of course I did... thats the the 9th time it had happened since.. he took me to the quirk testing last year."
His uncle sighed. "You're on the edge of something dangerous."
Before Gojo could respond, looking confused, his uncle suddenly swung a real punch. This time, it connected. Hard.
Gojo crashed into the dirt, clutching his jaw. His vision blurred, and his head rang. "The hell was that for?!"
"To bring you back," his uncle said, standing over him
"Whatever that was, you don't even understand it yet. And power without control is worse than weakness."
Gojo lay there, staring up at the sky.
It was true, it may be his quirk, or part of it, Hell even he doesnt know whay it is.
It first happened when he was stressed about the quirk testing, he tossed a pen and it was suspended in air, as if frozen. Only for a few seconds before dropping to the ground.
Yet there was that sensation —the feeling of being untouchable.
What if I could of used this back then? Would she still be alive?
That thought made his stomach turn.
Never again.
He will never be weak again.
If this was real, he would master it. No matter what.
His uncle turned away. "Get up. We're done for the day. Go study your stuff, history or science shit"
Gojo slowly got up, before falling back down on his back.
Passed out
----------
Late evening.
Gojo was currently reading and making notes on one of the books he had. Although by his yawning, one could tellhe was exhausted and tired.
Even Koun would admit that, he was different, especially when it came to knowledge.
He could understand things faster then a kid his age should. He's reading advanced math, while kids his age would be watching videos about heros.
'Should I become one..'
Gojo questioned himself. He wanted to be a hero.
Not for the fame, money.
He just wanted to become stronger, and what better than becoming a hero to become stronger.
"School starts in 6 months.. Wonder what's it going to be like again.. Do I even remember my teachers name?"
He spoke to himself
Truth is, he should be in school.
But due to the bank incident, and his father abandoning him right out. He was suspended for 6 months, social workers would of taken him to an orphanage hadn't it been for his uncle.
Koun was an interesting man with an interesting quirk.
His quirk worked that he could double his physical and speed stats depending how low his health is.
Basically, the worse he's injured, the stronger he'll become.
Funnily enough, Uncle Lucky worked as a short term. Hero for 4 years before Gojo was born.
The nick name "Lucky" come from the fact that, as a hero, someone with his quirk who need to be damaged tk activate it, had close moments. But was always luckily able to come through.
Just like how he's lucky now aways when he visits the local casino.
He always brags about it to friends, so much that only one casino, out of the entire city, allows him in now.
Although, everything went down hill for him earlier in life, from what I was told.
Ever since he lost his fiancé in an accident, he quit being a herk, and he hated his quirk.
To the point he rarely ever uses it, and only uses pure normal physical strength to be a fighter. In certain underground leagues.
Pays the bills, so can't complain about his choice of work line.
Gojo walked to his window and stared at the evening sky.
"Red." He described it with one word.. Red. It was truly a beautiful sunset.
He closed his eyes, he wanted to concentrate. He wanted to feel his quirk, but something was blocking him.
It was as if a large door was between him and feeling, and understanding his quirk, but all he could do was bang on the door that remained lock.
He kept trying to focus, before giving up and panting slightly, feeling dizzy.
"Okay, one day.. soon I'll figure this out..but.. I wonder if mother would of enjoyed the veiw of the sunset" He said to himself as he yawned and walked over to his bed and fell on it, drifting away to sleep.
Little did he know, his uncle was on his way to drag him, quite literally by his foot, out the room to go wash his own dishes.
And then the door flung open, "Who the Hell you think I am, your dish washer?!"