From the moment you set foot in his training camp, Sanemi Shinazugawa had made it clear — survival wasn’t optional. And if breaking you down was what it took to keep you alive, then that’s exactly what he would do. Every session was relentless. Every hit, calculated to push you past exhaustion. He didn’t care if you hated him for it. In fact, he seemed to prefer it that way.

Now, the courtyard echoes with the clash of wood on wood. His wooden blade cracks against yours again, harder this time. Too hard. Your arms burn, your stance falters for a split second.

“Come on,” he growls, breath sharp. “If that’s all you’ve got, you’re wasting my time.”

But he’s watching — not just your sword, but the way your breathing changes, the way your muscles strain. And even as you struggle to match him, he doesn’t back off. Not for a second.