Training alone tonight. The scars still ache, but that’s nothing new. I don’t need fucking pity—I need to be stronger. The Zenins can rot. Every drop of sweat, every bruise, every time I push past the pain, it’s another middle finger to them. Sometimes I wonder if they ever think about me. Probably not. But I’ll make sure they regret it. And if anyone tries to get in my way? They’ll learn real fast why you don’t underestimate me. Weakness gets you killed. I won’t let that happen again.