The Honored One (MHA)

The Gojo family's elders weren't just the keepers of tradition—they were legends in their own right.

Each elder was a powerhouse with decades of experience. They were the architects of the family's reputation, shaping its legacy as one of the strongest lineages in the world. Stories about their achievements were passed down like folklore.

Satoru, however, wasn't impressed.

"It's just a room full of old guys who think they're smarter than everyone else," he muttered under his breath as his parents escorted him to the family's ancestral hall.

Aoi gave him a warning glance. "Be respectful, Satoru. The elders have a lot to teach you."

Hiroto chuckled, placing a hand on Satoru's shoulder. "You'll understand when you're older. The elders' experience is invaluable."

Satoru rolled his eyes but didn't argue. He wasn't stupid enough to challenge his parents outright—well, not yet.

The ancestral hall was a massive, dome-shaped structure on the far side of the estate. Its exterior was lined with stone carvings of past Gojo leaders, their faces stern and regal. Inside, the walls were decorated with tapestries that told the family's history in vibrant, almost glowing colors.

At the center of the room sat the five elders, each one radiating an aura of power and authority. They were seated in a semicircle around a raised platform, their sharp gazes fixed on Satoru as he entered.

One of them, an older man with a long silver beard and piercing eyes, spoke first. "This is the boy everyone's talking about?"

Hiroto nodded, his posture stiff. "Yes, Elder Kazuya. This is my son, Satoru."

Kazuya's gaze swept over Satoru like a scalpel, dissecting him with a single look. "He's small."

Satoru frowned. "I'm three."

A ripple of amusement passed through the other elders, though Kazuya's expression remained unreadable.

Another elder, a woman with short gray hair and a sharp tone, leaned forward. "Strength comes in many forms, child. Size is the least important of them."

Satoru shrugged. "Tell that to the guy who keeps throwing rocks at me during training."

Hiroto's hand landed firmly on his shoulder, a subtle warning to behave. Satoru sighed and stood up a little straighter.

The next hour was, in Satoru's opinion, painfully boring.

The elders took turns lecturing him about the importance of discipline, family values, and what it meant to carry the Gojo name. They emphasized tradition, honor, and responsibility so much that Satoru almost fell asleep standing up.

By the time Kazuya addressed him directly, Satoru's patience was wearing thin.

"You've shown remarkable progress for your age," Kazuya said, his tone measured. "But raw talent means nothing without control. That is why you will train under our guidance."

Satoru tilted his head. "What kind of training?"

Kazuya's eyes narrowed. "The kind that will push you to your limits."

Satoru smirked. "I hope so. Anything less would be a waste of time."

The room fell silent. For a moment, Satoru thought he'd crossed a line. But then Kazuya smiled—a small, almost imperceptible curve of his lips.

"You've got spirit," he said. "Let's see if you can back it up."

The training began the next morning.

Satoru was led to a secluded area of the estate, a sprawling courtyard surrounded by towering stone walls. The ground was uneven, with patches of grass and dirt that looked like they'd seen countless battles.

Kazuya stood at the center, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Your first task is simple," he said, gesturing to a row of wooden dummies lined up against the far wall. "Destroy those targets using your quirk."

Satoru raised an eyebrow. "That's it? You want me to blow up some wooden dolls?"

"Don't underestimate the simplicity of this exercise," Kazuya warned. "Control is more important than power. If you can't destroy the targets precisely, you'll fail."

Satoru shrugged. "Alright, old man. Watch and learn."

He extended his hand, activating Limitless with a flick of his wrist. The air around him shimmered as he focused his energy, creating a tiny sphere of compressed space in his palm.

With a sharp motion, he launched the sphere toward the first dummy. It struck with pinpoint accuracy, obliterating the target in an instant.

Satoru turned back to Kazuya, his smirk firmly in place. "That precise enough for you?"

Kazuya didn't react. "Do it again. This time, use less energy."

Satoru frowned but complied. He adjusted the output of Limitless, creating a smaller, weaker sphere. It hit the second dummy, breaking it apart without completely destroying it.

"Better," Kazuya said. "Now, do it without leaving any debris."

Satoru blinked. "You want me to disintegrate it?"

"Exactly."

The exercise continued for hours. Each time, Kazuya demanded more precision, less energy, and greater control. By the end of the session, Satoru's head was pounding, and his arms felt like lead.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Kazuya finally called an end to the training.

"You did well for your first day," he said.

Satoru wiped the sweat from his brow. "Thanks, I guess."

"But don't get complacent," Kazuya added, his tone sharp. "This was just the beginning. If you're serious about becoming the strongest, you'll need to work harder than anyone else."

Satoru's smirk returned. "Don't worry, old man. I'm just getting started."

That night, as Satoru lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, he couldn't help but replay the day's events in his mind.

The elders weren't as bad as he'd expected. They were strict, sure, but they knew what they were doing. If he wanted to master his abilities, they were the best teachers he could ask for.

[Challenge Unlocked: Perfect Spatial Manipulation.]

The system's voice echoed in his mind, cutting through his thoughts.

Satoru grinned. "Looks like tomorrow's going to be even more fun."

With that, he closed his eyes, already planning how to outdo himself in the next session.