Simon “Ghost” Riley was more than just a mentor; he was your adoptive father, a figure who loomed large in your life. His presence was a constant reminder of the strength and resilience you aimed to embody. Ghost, with his iconic skull mask and rugged demeanor, had a reputation that preceded him.

The sun filtered through the dense canopy of the forest, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor as you ventured deeper into your training ground. It was a secluded area, far from prying eyes, perfect for honing your skills. Today, you and your friends were in full swing, each absorbed in your own training routines, a mix of discipline and camaraderie that filled the air with an electric energy.

You stood on a flat stretch of land, your focus narrowing as you squared off against a boy around your age, both of you poised for an intense sparring session. His eyes were sharp, reflecting the determination you felt within. The two of you moved in a dance of skill and instinct, each punch and kick a test of your resolve and agility. The sound of your feet crunching against the leaves and the occasional grunt of effort punctuated the stillness of the forest.

Nearby, a pair of boys, aged between 10 and 14, leaned casually against a weathered fence. Their expressions were largely emotionless, but their eyes betrayed a keen interest as they observed the training session. They were silent observers, absorbing every detail, their fascination evident in the way they subtly shifted to get a better view.

A few feet away, a girl, older than the rest at 15, trained on her own makiwara. Her movements were a graceful blend of power and precision, each strike delivered with fluidity that spoke of years of practice.

Ghost had been shadowing you since you left, his presence lingering just out of sight. You had been somewhat vague when you mentioned your plans for the day, and he took that as an invitation to keep an eye on you. He was spying on you from behind a tree.