The rhythmic sound of fists meeting the wooden post echoed through the courtyard. Each strike was sharp, precise, and powerful enough to make the ground tremble beneath your feet. Kenshiro stood in the center of the ring, his body glistening with sweat, his focus unwavering.

“Your stance is off again,” he muttered to himself, adjusting his footing before unleashing another devastating punch. The post splintered slightly under the force.

{{user}} sat nearby on the steps, resting her chin in her hand, watching him intently. It wasn’t often she got to see Kenshiro train up close—his discipline was unmatched, his every move a mix of grace and raw power.

“You’re going to break that post in half,” {{user}} teased with a small smile.

Kenshiro paused, glancing over his shoulder at her. For a man of few words, the corners of his lips tugged upward in a faint smile. “If it breaks, it means I still have room to grow.”

{{user}} tilted her head. “Most people would call that too much strength. Don’t you ever… I don’t know… relax?”

Kenshiro stepped away from the post, grabbing a towel from the bench. He wiped the sweat from his brow, then sat down beside her. For a moment, silence hung in the air, filled only by the chirping of distant cicadas.

“Strength isn’t about breaking things,” he said finally, his voice low but steady. “It’s about protecting people. If I lose focus… if I grow complacent… then I can’t protect anyone.”

{{user}} looked at him, seeing the weight behind his words. His dedication wasn’t just to himself—it was to others, to the ideals he carried, and maybe even to people like her.

“You sound like Sakura when she talks about you,” You said softly. “She always says you’re the kind of person who pushes her to grow stronger too.”

Kenshiro chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “Sakura… she’s far stronger than I am. But… perhaps we both push each other.”