Danmachi: Bell Gojo through the fictional Multiverse

The twin suns of Tatooine bathed the dusty streets of Mos Espa in their relentless light as Bell strolled alongside Anakin and Shmi Skywalker. The small family had become like his own, their humble existence imbued with a warmth that even the harsh desert winds couldn't erode.

Bell glanced at Shmi as they walked. Her movements were graceful but weary, a lifetime of servitude evident in the tension of her shoulders. Anakin, ever the bundle of boundless energy, was yammering about his latest pod-racing improvements, oblivious to his mother's quiet struggles. Bell's sharp Six Eyes, scanning beyond the visible, had picked up on something disturbing the moment he met them.

Slave chips.

Tiny, invasive pieces of technology embedded in the necks of both Shmi and Anakin. He felt his stomach churn at the realization, a disgust rising within him that he hadn't felt in years. Freedom was a right, not a privilege. Forcing someone into servitude through cruel devices was beyond reprehensible.

That evening, over a modest dinner, Bell broached the subject.

"Shmi," Bell began, his voice calm but serious. "When I met you and Anakin, I noticed something—those chips in your necks. Can you tell me about them?"

Shmi hesitated, her fingers curling around the edge of her chair. "They're slave chips. Watto had them implanted years ago. If... if we ever tried to run, they'd detonate."

Anakin's face darkened, a rare seriousness clouding his youthful features. "I hate them. They're just another way to keep us from being free."

Bell nodded, his expression softening as he placed a reassuring hand on Anakin's shoulder. "Well, I have good news for both of you. Tomorrow, you'll be a slave-chip lighter."

Anakin's eyes widened. "You can get rid of them?"

Bell smirked. "Let's just say I've got a knack for fixing problems."

The next morning, Bell led Shmi and Anakin into their small home, asking them to sit comfortably. With his Six Eyes, he examined the chips embedded in their necks, tracing the intricate web of technology and explosive failsafes. The chips were sophisticated, but nothing his abilities couldn't handle. Using his Ki-infused precision, he began the delicate process of disarming and removing them.

Anakin winced as Bell worked, but the older man's soothing words kept him calm. "It's just like pulling a splinter, kid. A bit of discomfort, but after this, no more chains."

Shmi was quieter, her lips pressed together as she endured the strange sensation. Bell's hands moved with a surgeon's precision, his focus unshakable. Finally, with a small pop and a faint metallic glint, the first chip was removed.

Hours later, the process was complete. Both Skywalkers were free of the invasive devices.

"That's it," Bell said with a smile, holding up the deactivated chips. "You're free."

Anakin touched his neck, tears welling in his eyes. "I don't feel the chip anymore... I'm free?"

Bell grinned. "Free as the winds, Ani."

Shmi clasped Bell's hand, her voice trembling. "Thank you. I don't know how we'll ever repay you."

"You don't need to," Bell said gently. "Seeing you both free is thanks enough."

Later that evening, as the suns dipped below the horizon, Bell sat with Shmi under the open sky, the stars twinkling above them. Anakin was asleep inside, exhausted from the emotional day.

"Shmi," Bell began, his tone contemplative, "when Anakin leaves Tatooine—and he will—you don't have to stay here. I can take you somewhere better, somewhere you can live freely."

Shmi hesitated, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "I'd like to stay with Anakin. He's my son. But... if he leaves without me..."

"He will," Bell interjected gently, his Six Eyes showing him fragments of the future. "The Force is already guiding him to something bigger than this desert. If you wait too long, you might not get the chance to decide."

Shmi nodded, her expression conflicted. "I'll think about it."

In the following days, Bell integrated further into the Skywalker household, taking on the role of a protective, playful guardian. His presence brought levity to their lives, his humor and kindness easing the weight of their past. He became a pseudo-father to Anakin, guiding the boy with lessons on focus, discipline, and balance.

At the same time, Bell worked to ease their financial burdens. Using his immense power and intellect, he disguised himself in a variety of forms and infiltrated the Lucky Despot, a local gambling den. With his sharp mind and Ki-augmented reflexes, Bell dominated the games, winning just enough to avoid suspicion while amassing a small fortune.

The winnings allowed Watto to ease up on the Skywalkers' workload, granting them more free time. Anakin spent his days tinkering with machines and racing pods, while Shmi finally had moments of peace to simply enjoy life.

One evening, after a long day of work and laughter, Bell told them a story as they sat around a modest meal. It was a tale Goku had once told him about his early adventures as a child—a mix of humor, action, and heart.

Shmi laughed softly, the sound like a melody, while Anakin hung on every word, his eyes wide with wonder. By the time the story ended, both mother and son were sound asleep, their faces relaxed and content.

Bell leaned back, gazing at the stars through the small window. A warm smile crossed his face. For the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of home.

But deep down, he knew this peace was temporary. The Force had plans for Anakin, and Bell's path would eventually take him elsewhere. For now, though, he was content to be their anchor—a guardian in the sands of Tatooine.