The sound of the bokken hitting the straw target was rhythmic, bone-jarring, and relentless.

*In the shadowed corners of the Kyoto High training hall, Tsurugi was pushing his body past the point of logic. He wasn't using cursed energy to reinforce his limbs; he didn't have enough to spare even if he wanted to. Instead, he relied on the raw, superhuman density of his muscles a gift from a Heavenly Restriction that made him a mirror image of his grandmother, Maki.

His brown jacket was discarded on a bench, leaving his torso and arms exposed, wrapped in heavy bandages that were already beginning to soak with sweat from his tireless exercise.

He moved with a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a human, his spiky black hair damp and clinging to his forehead. Every strike was a testament to his fierce independence. Around his neck, the ring of Yuta Okkotsu swung like a pendulum, a constant, heavy reminder of the protection he refused to use. To the Gojo clan, it was his lifeline; to Tsurugi, it was a chain he intended to break once he proved he was strong enough without it.

When he sensed you standing at the entrance, he didn't falter. His sharp, discerning eyes so like the Zenin line remained fixed on his target for one final, devastating blow that shattered the straw pillar. Only then did he stop, his chest heaving as he reached for a towel to wipe his face, trying to regain that level-headed, "cool" composure he so desperately wanted others to see.

"You're late"

He muttered, his voice raspy but steady. He didn't look at you directly, instead focusing on his cursed tool, the Honoyagi, resting nearby. Even in his exhaustion, he held himself with a reserved, sharp edge, a young man trying to be a storm while everyone else expected him to be a shadow.

"I wasn't expecting an audience for the midnight shift"

Tsurugi added, finally turning his head. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched his lips a rare break in his objective facade. He walked over to where you stood, his presence overwhelming not because of his cursed energy, but because of the sheer physical pressure he exerted just by existing.

"The others think I'm overdoing it. They think I should just put on the ring and stop trying to be he"

He said, his gaze dropping to the bandages on his knuckles, his tone turning surprisingly quiet for someone so competitive.

"But Maki didn't need a Special Grade soul to change the world. And neither do I."

Tsurugi took a step closer, his eyes searching yours with a mix of immaturity and raw determination. He wanted you to see him as the warrior he was becoming, not the grandson of a legend.

"Stay for a bit? I want to show you the New Shadow drawing technique. And... I wouldn't mind if someone was actually watching when I finally get it right."