The rain hadn't stopped. For three days it fell in sheets, turning the training grounds into a mire of mud and stone. Kaizen's body was already battered, bruises blotching his skin like a second layer of armor, yet Heavy Tank Loincloth showed no mercy.
"Again," the man barked.
Kaizen pushed himself up from the mud, chest heaving, vision blurring. His arms trembled with each movement, his cracked ribs groaning with pain. The moment he found his balance, Loincloth's massive fist slammed into him like a cannonball. Kaizen flew backward, crashing into the dirt.
"Damn it" He spat blood, dragging himself up.
"Don't waste air with words," Loincloth growled. "Use it to breathe. Use it to stand."
Kaizen's lungs burned, but he obeyed. Each rise felt slower, each fall heavier. Yet every time he hit the ground, a new fire sparked inside him. Rage, stubbornness, refusal.
Garou would've ended me. I won't let that happen again.
By the fourth day, Kaizen's knuckles had split open, blood seeping from the cuts. His muscles screamed in rebellion, yet the regimen never ended.
Endless push-ups until his arms collapsed. Squats with weights strapped to his back until his legs gave out. Loincloth's fists slamming into his core, over and over, until Kaizen vomited mud and bile.
"Your technique is sharp," Loincloth explained between blows. "But technique crumbles when the body is weak. Garou broke through you because you lacked this" He struck Kaizen's ribs again, sending him sprawling. "a foundation that refuses to break."
Kaizen gasped for breath. "You're… trying to kill me."
Loincloth snorted. "If I wanted you dead, you'd already be buried. This is mercy, Kaizen. The mercy of pain."
Nights were no kinder. Kaizen lay beneath the storm, muscles twitching in agony, his mind drifting toward collapse. But each time sleep threatened to take him, Garou's words dragged him awake again.
Closer than you want to admit.
He clenched his fists. "No… I won't become you."
In the silence of the night, his body broken against the earth, Kaizen felt the thin line he walked. To lean too far into instinct was to risk losing himself. But to cling too tightly to control was to shatter when tested. He was trapped between two worlds, neither enough to defeat the enemies ahead.
But wasn't that what Loincloth was forcing him to realize?
By the sixth day, Kaizen stopped counting the bruises. He moved not because his body allowed it, but because his will refused to quit. Loincloth struck, Kaizen staggered, but this time he did not fall. His legs bent, his body shook, but he remained upright.
A grin cracked Loincloth's face. "Now you're learning."
Kaizen spat blood into the mud. "Learning… what?"
"That pain is not your enemy. It's your teacher. Every time your body screams, it's telling you where you're weak. Every strike you endure, every collapse you rise from it's carving you into something harder."
Kaizen's breathing steadied. For the first time, he felt the truth of it. His body was not failing it was adapting. The pain hadn't lessened, but it no longer felt like defeat. It felt like progress.
By the tenth day, Kaizen's eyes burned with a new light. His stance steadied, his core braced even when his arms trembled. Loincloth came at him with the full weight of his bulk, but this time Kaizen absorbed the blow, sliding back without falling.
"Better," Loincloth rumbled.
Kaizen coughed, blood dripping from his lip, but he smirked faintly. "Still feels like hell."
"That's how you know it's working."
For the first time since his battle with Garou, Kaizen laughed a broken, raw sound that startled even him. The sound of someone still standing when he shouldn't be.
One night, as the storm finally broke and stars pierced the clouds, Kaizen sat cross-legged by the fire, bandaging his arms. Loincloth sat opposite him, sharpening a massive knife with calm focus.
"Tell me, Kaizen," the veteran said, voice low, "why do you fight?"
Kaizen hesitated. The question was simple, but his answer wasn't.
"…At first, I thought it was to prove myself. To master discipline. To show the world that strength could be controlled, refined, used for something greater. But now…" He stared at the flames, the reflection of Garou's eyes flickering within. "…now I think I fight because if I don't, I'll disappear. Into him. Into the same darkness."
Loincloth studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Good. Hold onto that. Fighting to stay yourself is stronger than fighting to be something else."
Kaizen looked up, surprised. "Even stronger than fighting for justice?"
The veteran smirked. "Justice is a word. Survival is a truth. Only once you've mastered yourself can you decide what justice really means."
The next morning, training resumed, harsher than ever. Kaizen carried logs across flooded rivers, ran until his legs threatened to snap, and endured strikes that left his vision blurred. Yet something had changed.
The pain was still there. The exhaustion still crushing. But beneath it all, Kaizen felt a foundation growing stronger each day. His body no longer betrayed him as quickly. His breath no longer failed after a few strikes. And most importantly, his spirit no longer wavered when the weight of defeat loomed.
He was not Garou.He was not the heroes who mistrusted him.He was Kaizen something forged in the space between.
On the fifteenth day, Loincloth ended the session with a final test. He charged, fist drawn, the ground cracking beneath his steps. Kaizen braced himself, blood pounding in his ears. The blow landed earth-shattering, thunderous.
But Kaizen did not fall. His legs buckled, his ribs screamed, but he remained standing.
Breathless, battered, but unbroken.
Loincloth grinned, satisfied. "Now you understand."
Kaizen nodded slowly, his chest heaving. "…Endurance isn't about never breaking. It's about rising after you do."
"Exactly," the veteran said. "And you, Kaizen… you're starting to rise."
That night, Kaizen stood alone at the edge of the training grounds, watching the stars. His body was a map of scars, but his spirit felt clearer than it ever had.
He wasn't healed. He wasn't finished. But he was becoming something Garou never was something the heroes couldn't yet see.
He was becoming unyielding.