Gojo Gacha Novels & Stories

Jo’burg was where we all wanted to be. I looked out at the busy streets, smiling at the sight of many cars and fast food restaurants, the sight of office buildings, well-known name companies, and the street lights unlike any other. We passed Chinatown and I looked at the big mall until it got very small and I couldn't see it and all of a sudden the car was slowing down. I looked around before I set my eyes on the sight of a restaurant. "Wh..." I looked at the name, L'Italia viene a Jozi, "what does that mean?" I asked Jabu but he didn't answer me, instead he just unlocked the doors and mumbled "get out".

What's wrong with Shin? * To Be Continued *

Gojo’s Infinity technique hummed subtly, cocooning the room in a private bubble, amplifying the electricity that crackled between them. Y/N wasted no time. She slammed Gojo against the door, the force of the impact making him grunt softly. This wasn't a gentle prelude; it was a declaration. Her hands, usually so precise with cursed energy, were now frantic as they clawed at his jacket, desperate to feel the hard muscles beneath.

“I am not going anywhere. This war must stop, now.” Bozo chuckled. Kachi had broken out of his hiding place and was running towards them. In his hands was the rein of Bozo’s black stallion. A horse he had named, Ghost, some few days ago. “Take her to safety,” Bozo grunted and took the rein from the commander, “Make sure her injuries are attended to.” Kachi nodded and tried to take Ejima, but the woman would have none of it. “I said this war should end now.”

“Listen, Nya, do you want to see what’s become of the so-called sacrifices or not?” An image of Gavin’s smiling face came to mind, one from before the Dragon Moon where he was claimed by this monster. She narrowed her eyes at him. Nya Gould wasn’t easily frightened. While it crossed her mind she might be crossing into a lair filled with angry, hungry dragons, something about Slate’s mannerisms made her trust him. Of course, that could just be how he tricked his prey into becoming his dinner.

And now he's at my feet, begging. "Who the fuck sent you?" I ask, running my fingers over the engraving of the gun. It was a gift from Leander when I turned eighteen. It's this beautiful rose gold gun with roses etched into the sides. One of a kind. Never another like it. Just like me. "I don't know!" he cries out in agony.