Chapter 5: Motivations
As Gojo broke the surface of the stormy sea, he drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cold, salty air. The heavy rain pelted down, making it difficult to see, but the light from the thundering provided just enough visibility.
'The harpoon is gone.' He observed.
Suddenly, a fishing rod with its line extended whipped through the air. Gojo noticed it and raised an eyebrow, a smile of relief formed on his lips as the line landed right in front of him. He reached out, grabbing the hook with one hand.
Gojo looked up, following the line to see a determined-looking boy with spiky green hair at the other end, holding onto a fishing rod with both hands.
"Grab on!" the boy shouted over the roar of the storm.
Gojo tightened his grip as Gon started to reel him in, his strength pulling Gojo through the churning waters and back toward the safety of the ship. Despite the chaos around them, Gojo's eyes remained calm, the only sign of the recent underwater struggle being the slight tear in his clothing and the faint trickle of blood running down his thigh.
As he approached the side of the ship, Gojo braced himself, timing his movements with Gon's efforts, and with a powerful kick, he propelled himself up, clearing the railing and landing lightly on the deck beside Gon.
Gon looks at him with concern. "Are you okay?"
Gojo, wiping rain and salt water from his face, flashed a grin. "Better than that poor guy down there," he quipped, nodding toward the dark water with his usual nonchalance. Despite his light tone, there was a quiet intensity behind his eyes.
Gon smiles, relieved. "We need to get back to the others. Things are getting intense!"
The last of the pirates let out a final scream as he was thrown overboard, disappearing into the churning sea below. The deck was a chaotic mess of broken crates, spilt cargo, and blood, with the storm's fury still raging overhead. Bodies lay scattered, the toll of the brutal fight evident in every corner of the ship.
Of the 54 passengers that had boarded, only 22 remained standing. The tribal tattooed man with the bow leaned against the ship's railing, panting heavily as he surveyed the devastation. Nearby, the sharp-eyed woman with twin swords sheathed her bloodstained blades, her left arm wrapped in a makeshift bandage. The green-eyed woman with the large ornate weapon clutched her side, blood seeping through her fingers as she sat slumped against a barrel.
The rest who had once bravely stood up to Gojo were now either dead or missing, their fates claimed by the pirates or the unforgiving sea.
Among the crew, only 9 out of the original 14 crewmen remained. They moved quickly despite their own injuries, barking orders to the survivors.
"Everyone, into the cabins!" one of the crewmen shouted, his voice hoarse from the strain of battle. "We need to secure the ship and tend to the wounded. Move quickly!"
The survivors, dazed and weary, obeyed without hesitation. They stumbled toward the door leading to the cabins, the terror of the night still fresh in their minds. Inside the dimly lit crew cabin, the survivors huddled together, the atmosphere heavy with the weight of their ordeal. The sounds of the storm still raged outside, but inside, there was a momentary calm, the eye of the storm within their souls.
Captain Olson, pale from blood loss, lay against the wall, clutching the stump where his hand had once been. His breaths were laboured, eyes flickering with pain as Leorio knelt beside him, pulling out a first-aid kit.
"Let me take care of that wound," Leorio said firmly, already unwrapping bandages and preparing antiseptics.
The captain frowned, his pride warring with his instincts. "I can wait until our medic—"
Leorio cut him off, glancing around the room. "Your medic's gone, Captain. I'm the best shot you've got now. I'm trained—an EMT. Let me help."
Olson hesitated for a moment longer, then gave a reluctant nod, his voice rough. "Do what you must."
Leorio wasted no time. He cleaned the wound with steady hands, careful to avoid causing unnecessary pain. The antiseptic stung, and Olson flinched, but Leorio kept working, his focus unwavering.
"This is going to need more than just bandages," Leorio muttered as he pulled out a needle and thread. "You're lucky the bleeding's slowed down. I'm going to suture the wound first, then bandage it tight. You'll need proper medical attention as soon as we make landfall."
Olson gritted his teeth as Leorio began stitching the wound. The needlework was clean and precise—Leorio's hands moved with the confidence of someone who had done this many times before. Once the sutures were in place, Leorio wrapped the stump tightly with gauze, securing it with a final knot.
"There. That should hold for now," Leorio said, wiping his brow. "But you'll need to keep pressure off it, and I'll have to check it regularly for any signs of infection."
The captain looked at Leorio, his expression a mix of gratitude and the remnants of his earlier scepticism. "You've done good work. What's your name?"
"Leorio," he replied simply, giving Olson a reassuring nod. "Just rest now. I'll keep an eye on things."
The captain closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to relax, if only for a moment. Around them, the other survivors tended to their own wounds, the sharp-eyed woman with twin swords nursing a gash on her leg, while the man with tribal tattoos on his face wrapped a bandage around his arm.
As the cabin settled into a tense quiet, Gojo found a corner to himself, away from the others. He glanced down at the wound on his thigh where the Blackthorn had grazed him during the fight with Fenwick. The cut was shallow but bled steadily, staining his pants with dark red.
Gojo winced slightly as he pulled up his pant leg to examine the wound more closely. With a resigned sigh, he reached out and pulled stuff from the ship's first-aid kit. He quickly disinfected the area, the sting of the antiseptic didn't arouse any reaction.
Leorio, noticing Gojo's actions, approached cautiously. "Hey, I can take care of that for you. Looks like it needs to be cleaned up and bandaged properly."
Gojo waved him off, not even glancing up. "I've got it. Thanks, but no thanks."
Leorio raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the blunt refusal. "You sure? It wouldn't take long, and I've got experience—"
"I said I've got it," Gojo interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. He tied off the bandage with a quick, practised motion, then pulled his pant leg back down, effectively ending the conversation.
Leorio stared at him for a moment longer, then shrugged and walked away, understanding that Gojo wasn't going to let anyone else touch the wound.
Gojo leaned back against the wall, letting out a slow breath. The pain in his leg was manageable, and he preferred to handle it himself. He wasn't one who liked to rely on others, and certainly not for something as minor as a superficial wound.
'Got injured fighting a Grade 3 level, this is embarrassing.' Gojo sighed in frustration.
Captain Olson, still pale and weak from his wounds, called the surviving passengers to gather in the centre of the cabin. His one remaining hand gripped the railing as he surveyed the group, his eyes lingering on each face, calculating and assessing.
Once everyone was assembled, the captain cleared his throat. "I know you're all tired, hurt, and angry after what we've been through. But there's something you need to understand about this voyage."
He paused, letting the tension build. The passengers exchanged wary glances, unsure of what was coming next.
"This stormy route we took," Olson continued, "wasn't just bad luck or a mistake. It was part of a test—a test designed to see how each of you would handle a high-pressure situation. You're all applicants for the Hunter Exam, and this was a trial of your disposition, your ability to keep your wits about you in a storm. Though... the pirates were certainly not part of the plan."
The revelation hit the group like a wave. Murmurs of anger and disbelief spread through the room, some passengers visibly tensing. A few clenched their fists, others cursed under their breath.
"You've got to be kidding me," one of the survivors, the tall man with tribal tattoos, spat out, his voice low and dangerous. "You put our lives at risk as part of some sick test?"
"Shut yer trap," Olson replied, his tone harsh. "You all should have known what you were getting into when you signed up for the Hunter Exam. It's never just a walk in the park—it's dangerous, unpredictable, and life-threatening. If you can't handle that, then this path isn't for you."
Kurapika, who had been silently watching the captain, narrowed his eyes. "So, that explains why the entire crew is made up of skilled fighters. You're all connected to the Hunter Association."
Olson nodded. "That's right. Every one of my crew, including myself, is a failed Hunter applicant. We didn't pass the exam for one reason or another, but we still wanted to be part of the Hunter Association, so here we are. This is how we contribute—by testing those who come after us, but most of the time just engage in transporting business for the association."
The woman with twin swords, nursing a bandaged arm, spoke up, her voice tight with controlled anger. "And that pirate leader, Neckbeard? What about him?"
Olson's expression darkened. "Neckbeard was one of us, once. We took the Hunter Exam together decades ago. He failed like the rest of us, but he took it harder than most. Became bitter, and twisted. The only one who passed that year was a kid who looked just like Gon here." He nodded toward Gon, who had been standing quietly near Gojo. "That kid was your father, Ging."
Gon's eyes widened slightly at the mention of his father, but he stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the captain.
There was a heavy silence in the room as everyone absorbed the information. Finally, Olson sighed and looked around at the group again. "Now, I need to know who you all are, your ages, and what's driving you to become a Hunter. It's important we know who we're working with."
There was a moment of hesitation, but slowly, the survivors began to speak up one by one.
The tall man with tribal tattoos was the first to step forward. "Name's Karasu. I'm 22. I'm here to become a Hunter because my village was wiped out by a rogue Hunter, and I want the power to make sure that never happens again."
Next was the sharp-eyed woman with twin swords. She spoke with a cold, steely determination. "My name is Elara, age 20. My sister went missing during an exploration mission in search of some artefact. I'm here to find out why and to bring those responsible to justice."
The green-eyed girl with the large ornate scythe followed, her voice filled with resolve. "I'm Anita, age 16. I want to become a Blacklist Hunter to bring my father's killers. Namely the Zoldyck family."
Kurapika's eyes turn to her, while the captain's eyes widen.
"Do you understand what you are chasing after, lass? Even amongst hunters that bloodline is greatly feared. While other assassins hide behind code names and such, the Zoldycks operate freely and unashamed. Why? They are monsters who know no fear," the captain said.
Anita shook her head. "I don't care how dangerous they are. I have devoted too much of myself to this to give up now."
Captian Olson sighed and turned to Kurapika for his answer.
Kurapika watched each of them speak, his motivation rooted in his quest for vengeance. When it was his turn, he spoke calmly, "I am Kurapika, age 17. I also seek to become a Blacklist Hunter to hunt down the criminal group responsible for the massacre of the family, my clan. Namely the Phantom Troupe."
A stun silence permeated the room after these revelations, Anita's eyes turned to look at Kurapika and their gazes met.
Captain Olson sighed, "The Zoldycks and the Phantom Troupe... The ambitions of youth."
He looked particularly at the young boy with spiky hair, Gon, and the man with the glasses, Leorio, before finally resting on the white-haired Gojo, who was still tending to his own wound.
"Now it's the turn of you three to speak up."
Gon stepped forward, his expression bright despite the exhaustion and the events that had just unfolded. "My name is Gon Freecss. I'm 11 years old. I want to become a Hunter to find my dad, Ging. He left me when I was little to become a Hunter himself, and I want to know why he chose that over staying with me."
The room fell silent for a moment as the survivors processed Gon's reason. It was simple, yet strong, driven by a child's determination to meet with his father.
Captain Olson nodded thoughtfully. "Your father... He is truly one of the best. If you have even a fraction of his skill, you'll do well."
Gon smiled brightly at the compliment, clearly motivated to keep going.
Next, Olson turned to Leorio, who had just finished securing a bandage around his own arm. "And you?" the captain asked. "You seem to know your way around a medical kit."
Leorio adjusted his glasses and stood up straighter. "My name's Leorio Paradinight, and I'm 19 years old. I'm trained as an EMT, but that's not where I want to stop. My actual goal is to become one of the richest people in the world."
Olson's eyes softened a bit as he listened, this goal was in complete contrast to his peer. Olson found it amusing even in his pain.
"A noble goal, lad. We need more people like you, especially in a world like ours. Becoming a Hunter will certainly open doors for you."
Leorio gave a curt nod, but the satisfaction was evident in his eyes.
Finally, Olson's gaze turned to Gojo, who was leaning against the wall, seemingly unconcerned with his thigh wound as he cleaned and rewrapped it.
"And you, with the white hair?" Olson asked, eyeing Gojo with a mixture of curiosity and respect. "You seem to know how to handle yourself. What's your story?"
Gojo looked up, his usual calm smile spreading across his face. "Satoru Gojo. Age? 16. As for why I want to become a Hunter... Some personal reason," he added with a glint in his eyes, "And I want to become the strongest in history, unrivalled, peerless one under and over heaven... In short I just want Power?"
The Captian raised his eyebrow. "Power for what purpose, lad?"
To this Gojo simply replied, "For greater freedom of course. If the measure of freedom of a man is how much and to what extent he can exert his 'will', then he must remember that the act exertion of one's will is power. So freedom is a condition of power and the greater power you have; the greater freedom you have. Do I make sense?"
Around the passengers quietly listened, the captian nodded but Leorio just after fishing tending to wounds of a sailor broke this silence.
"No you don't make sense," Leorio said. "Freedom? Power? How are they even related?"
"What part of what I just said didn't make sense to you?" Gojo asked. "In civilization individual and freedom power is decided by governing bodies. In outskirts of civilization freedom is tested against other men like the pirates we fought. Now here our freedom, wishes, will to live is tested against forces of nature and we are losing. We are basically at the condition of being enslaved by the storm sea and are alive at the mercy of it's whip which is unpredictable to us. Does it mean we give up? No, it means we the slave rebel, exerting power and will through whatever means we have. But would we have to if we have greater power than everything that has and is trying to overpowers us?
Leorio thinking about the answer turned silent.
Gojo didn't intend to reveal his true goal of becoming a hunter but he didn't truly lie either. To become the strongest one. To become the perfect one. To become the Honoured One. This was something expected from someone who was born with both Limitless and the Six Eyes.
'You are capable of more than you can imagine, Satoru. You are capable of becoming Perfect.' That's what his mother would say to him.
There was a brief silence before Olson chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't know about all this... But you're an interesting one, lad. Not anyone else on this ship could have taken that guy you fight down. This I know for sure."
Gojo just smiled and chuckled at this comment.
With everyone having spoken, Olson took a deep breath and addressed them all again. "Now that we know each other a bit better, remember this—becoming a Hunter isn't just about strength or skill. It's about your willpower, and your ability to keep going no matter what. This test of disposition was just the beginning. You've all got what it takes to go further, but the road ahead is long and dangerous."
The room fell silent once more as the survivors digested Olson's words. Each of them had their own reasons, and their own motivations, but now they were all united by the shared experience of surviving this trial.
The group began to disperse, finding their places to rest or tend to their wounds, knowing that this was only the beginning of their journey.
As Gojo adjusted his position, trying to get comfortable, his eyes drifted over to the rest of the passengers and crew huddled together. Despite the pain in his leg, his thoughts were elsewhere—on the events that had transpired, especially Nen and Fenwick's abilities. The sureity in the tone when Captian Olson spoke of Fenwick revealed one thing, he knows about the existence of Nen, or at least has some idea of it.
'The chances of Hunter Association having this knowledge just increased for me.'
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
LimitlessDrill
LimitlessDrill Writing is hard, cheer me up! VOTE for me! I tagged this book, come and support me with a thumbs up! Like it? Add to the library! Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone