After hearing Gojo's words, Kishimoto nodded firmly. "I'm not asking you to do something impossible. You said you'll only face Doflamingo when you have the strength—and that's exactly what I want. After all, I'm giving you a supreme blade. I wouldn't want to lose this blade to someone from Doflamingo's group."
Gojo accepted that with a small nod. A spark of eagerness lit up his expression. "Now… can I see this sword?"
Kishimoto smiled faintly and handed him the supreme blade—Kogetsu no Yoru. Gojo took the sheath into his grip. The weight settled perfectly into his palm, balanced and natural, as if the sword had been waiting for him all along.
He unsheathed it slowly. The blade emerged with a soft hum, pure black at first, before a subtle glow awakened along its length—faint, but unmistakable.
Gojo began performing basic movements on the spot—horizontal cuts, vertical arcs, flowing step transitions. The blade sliced through the air smoothly, singing with each motion. The moonlight caught on the shifting surface, giving the sword a quiet, mesmerizing pulse.
Finally satisfied, Gojo sheathed the blade and exhaled.
"This sword is perfect for me. It moves perfectly with me. It's like… this sword was made just for me."
Kishimoto's smile deepened at that reaction. With the sword secure in Gojo's hand, they returned to the house and sat once more.
After a moment of silence, Gojo asked, "You came here on which ship? Was it yours? Or did you borrow or hitch a ride?"
Kishimoto shook his head. "I came through different means—mostly working on merchant ships traveling between islands in the New World and Paradise. And from Paradise, I found a returning pirate group and traveled with them to reach the East Blue. Although… the journey from Paradise to East Blue was difficult."
Gojo nodded, absorbing that information.
Kishimoto tilted his head slightly. "But why do you ask?"
Gojo replied, "Isn't it obvious? I asked because if you had come on a ship that survived the New World, Paradise, and then made it all the way to the East Blue, then that ship would've been far superior to anything here. It would have been perfect for me to use next year, since I'm planning to set sail then. I'll be eighteen at the start of the new year."
Gojo's birthday—January 1st—would mark the beginning of the year 1522 in the Sea Calendar. And with it, the moment he had been preparing for. His objective here in the Frauce Kingdom had already been fulfilled: he had reached the realm of iron-cutting in swordsmanship. He could now enter the wider seas without fear. In truth, he had to go. Staying here would only limit his growth; out there on the sea was where he could continue climbing—fighting stronger foes, gaining more abilities, awakening armament haki, unlocking deeper mastery of the hakis.
When Kishimoto first mentioned coming from the New World, Gojo had felt a flicker of hope. Maybe I can learn Haki from him… different types, different uses. But that hope evaporated once the full story unfolded. Isadora had never learned Haki at all.
Kishimoto shook his head slightly. "I don't have any big ship I can give you. But I do know an excellent shipwright here in the Frauce Kingdom. If you commission him properly—and pay enough—he can build a sturdy ship. More than enough to let you sail the Paradise part of Grand Line a few times. And once you reach the Grand Line, you can commission a much stronger vessel—one capable of surviving New World."
Gojo nodded without hesitation. "Let's do as you say. You place the order for me. I'll pay whatever the ship costs."
Kishimoto nodded at Gojo's answer. "It won't cost you that much—around ten million should suffice. You have ten million, right?"
Gojo shrugged lightly. "Yes, I have ten million. I've earned a lot from my hunting business, and I also have the treasures from that pirate group. After selling everything, I should get six to seven million more. So in total, I'll have ten million. Don't worry about it."
Kishimoto smiled faintly. "Good. Then I'll inform the shipwright to begin building your ship."
Gojo nodded back with a small, satisfied smile.
With that settled, Gojo stood and gathered the two swords he now carried—one, the supreme blade Kogetsu no Yoru, gleaming faintly even through its sheath… and the other, the faithful blade he had carried and trained with for over four years. It had accompanied him from his earliest days of swordsmanship, bearing every mistake, every breakthrough, every drop of sweat.
Now, that sword had fulfilled its purpose. It would no longer serve him in battle—but Gojo already had the perfect person in mind to pass it on to.
As he walked away, his silhouette stretching under the moonlight, Kishimoto watched his departing back with complex emotions—hope, relief, and the lingering ache of entrusting his last wish to someone else.
Yamashiro, who had silently stood behind them through the entire conversation, finally spoke, his voice quiet but steady. "Don't worry, Master. With the potential Gojo has shown, he will definitely take revenge for you. And from what we know of him… he's a man of his word. He won't go back on it."
Kishimoto exhaled slowly, nodding. "I know. And my only hope… is to see Doflamingo fall."
…
Even after defeating Kishimoto, Gojo didn't slow down. His training continued relentlessly as he worked to refine Blue, pushing it deeper into the true nature of Limitless. At present, he could only use Blue as an immense pulling force—strong enough to launch himself forward at speeds faster than sound. But folding space? Teleporting in the true sense? He still couldn't reach that level.
He needed more refinement. More precision. More mastery.
And not to mention—the other half of Limitless still eluded him entirely. Red.
Even after four years, Gojo hadn't been able to manifest it. Not even the faintest spark or initial reaction. It irritated him to no end. Why the hell won't it activate…? But irritation wasn't the same as discouragement. He simply trained harder, determined to eventually wield Red and, one day, combine both into Purple.
Time flowed quickly. Days turned into months, and soon January 21st of the Sea Calendar year 1522 arrived.
At the docks of Shell Point Town, a newly built ship rested proudly upon the water—its hull sturdy, its design sharp, crafted exactly as Kishimoto had arranged.
Standing near the ship was a young man with snow-white hair and a black blindfold. He wore a dark blue jacket, matching pants, and polished black shoes. His posture was relaxed, yet refined; the breeze ruffled the ends of his hair as the sunlight hinted at the sharp lines of his face.
(Ai generated image in Comments area.)
Not far away—barely ten to twenty meters—a small group of girls whispered and giggled, their cheeks flushed. They kept stealing glances at him, some even winking or smiling shyly in his direction. Gojo, of course, felt every bit of their attention even through the blindfold… but he didn't spare them so much as a turn of the head.
He faced the group standing before him and said with a confident, almost excited smile, "Finally, my ship is ready. Now I can set sail into this world—and begin my adventure."
The people before him—Martha, Kishimoto, Yamashiro, and Seto—watched him proudly.
Kishimoto, having finally entrusted his vengeance to Gojo, had let go of the emotional weight he'd carried for years. Now, he would wait in his sword dojo… waiting for the day news reached him that Doflamingo and his entire crew had been destroyed.
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