Danmachi: Bell Gojo through the fictional Multiverse

The Royal Naboo Cruiser broke through Tatooine's hazy atmosphere, a battered but resilient ship that carried its eclectic crew. In the cockpit, Qui-Gon Jinn watched the sprawling dunes stretch endlessly toward the horizon. Beside him, Obi-Wan Kenobi scanned the arid terrain, his sharp eyes betraying his unease. The desert planet radiated a rugged simplicity, but something in the Force whispered otherwise—there was potential danger hidden amidst the heat and sand.

"We'll set down near the outskirts of Mos Espa," Qui-Gon said, his voice calm as always. "We must move quickly. The hyperdrive is failing, and we'll need parts to repair the ship before we're discovered."

Behind them, the disguised Queen Padmé Naberrie—posing as a handmaiden—sat quietly, watching the landscape. Her regal bearing was impossible to disguise completely, but she had adopted a more modest demeanor to match her temporary role. R2-D2 chirped beside her, the faithful astromech droid always at the ready.

The ship landed on a rocky outcropping, its sleek silver hull gleaming under the twin suns of Tatooine. As the group disembarked, Qui-Gon stepped into the searing heat, his gaze sweeping the horizon.

"This way," he said, nodding toward the distant domes of Mos Espa.

The bustling streets of Mos Espa were alive with activity, a chaotic blend of traders, merchants, and travelers. Beings of all shapes and sizes haggled loudly over parts and goods, the scent of exotic spices and machine oil mingling in the dry air.

Padmé marveled at the diversity around her, though she hid it well. "It's... different than I expected," she remarked softly to Qui-Gon.

"Tatooine is unyielding," he replied, "but it has its charm if you know where to look."

Obi-Wan frowned slightly, his senses on edge. "I suggest we focus on finding the parts we need, Master. This place doesn't feel entirely safe."

"Patience, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said with a faint smile. "There is more to learn here than meets the eye."

The group approached a modest shop, its exterior weathered by years of sandstorms. Above the door, a sign marked it as Watto's junk shop. Inside, the cluttered space was packed with machinery and spare parts.

A mechanical whirring greeted them as the door slid open, followed by the sharp buzz of wings. Watto, a pudgy, blue-skinned Toydarian, floated into view, his gravelly voice filling the room.

"Ah, customers!" Watto said, his eyes gleaming with opportunistic delight. "What can I do for you?"

Qui-Gon stepped forward, his calm demeanor unwavering. "We're in need of a hyperdrive generator for a Nubian ship. Do you have one in stock?"

Watto rubbed his chin, considering. "Hyperdrive, eh? Expensive part. Very rare, very valuable. Let me check."

As Watto floated off to search, a small figure emerged from behind a stack of parts. Anakin Skywalker, a bright-eyed boy no older than nine, grinned at the newcomers. Behind him, a taller figure stood, leaning casually against the wall. The man's silver hair shimmered in the dim light, his piercing icy-blue eyes taking in the group with quiet interest.

"Hi there!" Anakin said cheerfully, his gaze landing on Padmé. "Are you an angel?"

Padmé blinked in surprise, then laughed softly. "An angel?"

Anakin nodded earnestly. "I've heard the deep space pilots talk about them. They're the most beautiful creatures in the universe."

Padmé giggled again, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged amused glances, while Bell chuckled softly from his place by the wall.

"You've got a way with words, kid," Bell said, ruffling Anakin's hair.

As Qui-Gon observed the boy, his sharp instincts began to stir. There was something unusual about this child—a ripple in the Force, strong and undeniable. And then there was the other one. The man with the silver hair, whose presence was equally potent, though different. Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed slightly, his mind recalling the old prophecy.

"Anakin," Qui-Gon said gently. "Is this your home?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah, me and my mom live here. I help Watto with the shop, and sometimes I work on my podracer."

"Podracer?" Obi-Wan asked, intrigued despite himself.

"Yeah! I'm building one. It's almost ready to race."

Qui-Gon shifted his focus to Bell. "And you? Are you family?"

Bell shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. "Just a friend. Passing through and decided to stick around for a while."

The Jedi Master studied him, sensing layers of power and mystery beneath his relaxed exterior. His Midichlorians were... immense, and yet he carried himself with an ease that spoke of balance and control.

"You're... unique," Qui-Gon said thoughtfully.

Bell smirked. "So are you, Jedi."

Watto returned with a dusty datapad. "I've got a hyperdrive generator, but it won't come cheap."

Qui-Gon's attention shifted back to the task at hand. Negotiations ensued, and the group quickly realized that acquiring the part would not be simple. Anakin chimed in with suggestions, his quick thinking earning approving smiles from Padmé and Bell.

As the conversation continued, Qui-Gon couldn't shake the feeling that he had stumbled onto something far greater than a simple quest for parts. The Force whispered of destiny, and for the first time in many years, Qui-Gon felt the weight of the prophecy pressing down on him.

"The Chosen One," he murmured under his breath, glancing between Anakin and Bell.

Obi-Wan frowned. "Master?"

"Nothing," Qui-Gon replied, his tone enigmatic. "Let's focus on the task at hand."

But in his heart, he knew: this was only the beginning.