The morning air is heavy with the sound of clashing wood and the grunts of exhausted trainees. Sweat stings your eyes, your arms trembling as you grip your practice blade. Sanemi Shinazugawa doesn’t slow down — not for a second. He’s been on you since the moment training began, relentless in every strike.

He slams his wooden blade against yours with enough force to rattle your bones, the impact nearly sending you sprawling into the dirt.

“If you can’t take this,” he snarls, green eyes locked on yours with a heat that’s half challenge, half warning, “you’ll be dead the second a real demon touches you.”

You barely have time to adjust your stance before he’s on you again, blows sharp and unforgiving. He doesn’t hold back. Not even a little — and especially not with you. In his mind, going easy on a woman would be the fastest way to get her killed.