The dojo stood at the edge of a quiet district, far removed from the chaos of the city. Its wooden gates were simple, but the aura they carried was heavy with years of discipline, sweat, and countless strikes thrown within its walls.
Kaizen stopped at the entrance, his body still sore from the sparring with Bang. He tightened the straps of his bandages and inhaled deeply.
This is it, he thought. The first true step into the world I once only read about.
Bang walked beside him, his posture as calm as still water. "My dojo is not a place for idle dreams. It is a place to forge them into something real. Enter with respect, and leave with strength."
Kaizen bowed slightly. "Understood."
Inside, the dojo was alive with motion. Young men trained in pairs, fists clashing against open palms, bodies weaving in fluid patterns. Their movements echoed the philosophy of Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist gentle yet forceful, flowing yet unyielding.
The sound of fists striking wooden dummies resonated like thunder through the hall. Sweat pooled on the polished floorboards, and the air carried the sharp tang of effort.
Kaizen's eyes darted across every stance, every pivot, every strike. His heart pounded not from fear, but from awe.
So this is the heart of martial arts. Not fantasy. Not novels. The real thing.
A few students glanced at him, their gazes curious. Some smirked, whispering behind cupped hands.
"That's the guy Master Bang brought?""He looks half-dead already.""Another stray. He won't last a week."
Kaizen ignored the murmurs. He had heard far worse in his old world. Words were nothing compared to the weight of fists.
Bang clapped his hands once, the sound cutting through the chatter. "Enough. Return to your drills."
The students obeyed instantly, falling back into rhythm.
Bang turned to Kaizen. "You will start as they all did. From the bottom. Do not think being noticed by me grants you special privilege."
Kaizen nodded. "I wouldn't want it any other way."
The training began brutally simple. Hours of stance holding, shifting weight from one foot to the other. Learning to breathe with the rhythm of motion. Feeling the ground beneath his soles, as if the earth itself were part of his body.
It was agonizing. Kaizen's body screamed louder than it had during any battle. Sweat soaked his bandages, and his legs trembled under the strain.
But his mind did not waver.
This is what I came here for, he told himself. Not shortcuts. Not miracles. Real strength.
Bang watched silently, arms crossed. His sharp eyes missed nothing the quiver of Kaizen's knees, the way his shoulders tensed too much, the small imperfections that built into weakness.
Hours passed before Bang finally spoke. "Rest."
Kaizen exhaled, collapsing onto the floor. His chest rose and fell like a drum.
One of the students, a tall boy with short-cropped hair, scoffed. "Pathetic. Can't even last through the basics."
Kaizen met his gaze calmly. "Then I'll outlast them tomorrow."
The boy sneered, but before he could retort, a new presence entered the hall.
The room shifted as a figure stepped inside. His silver hair was tied back messily, his eyes sharp and hungry. His very aura seemed to ripple like a beast prowling on the edge of violence.
Garou.
The chatter died instantly. Even among Bang's students, Garou was different feared, admired, envied.
His eyes landed on Kaizen, narrowing. "So… this is the stray Master picked up."
Kaizen straightened his posture despite his exhaustion. He didn't speak, waiting.
Garou smirked. "You don't look like much. Another body to mop the floor with."
Bang's voice cut through, stern. "Garou. Enough."
But Garou ignored him, stepping closer, his grin widening. "Tell me, newcomer. Do you think you'll surpass us? Surpass me?"
Kaizen met his gaze without flinching. "I don't know. But I didn't come here to compare myself. I came here to become strong enough to stand no matter what."
For a moment, silence hung heavy. Then Garou chuckled, low and sharp. "Interesting answer. I'll enjoy breaking that resolve."
Bang's voice thundered this time. "Garou! Discipline!"
Garou clicked his tongue and turned away, but not before flashing Kaizen one last grin that promised conflict.
Days bled into weeks.
Kaizen trained from sunrise to sunset, every muscle screaming, every bone aching. He practiced the flowing stances, the circular redirections, the crushing counters. His movements were rough, but each day refined them further.
Bang corrected him with the precision of a sculptor chiseling stone. A shift of the ankle. A twist of the wrist. A breath aligned with motion.
The other students remained skeptical, but slowly, they began to notice Kaizen's persistence. He never skipped a drill, never faltered in spirit, even when his body threatened collapse.
Garou, however, watched him with a predator's gaze.
Sometimes he trained alongside Kaizen, their strikes echoing like dueling drums. Other times, he simply leaned against the wall, smirking, waiting for Kaizen to slip.
The tension between them grew like storm clouds.
Bang saw it, but did not intervene. He understood that steel sharpened steel. Conflict, managed correctly, was fuel.
One night, after all the students had left, Kaizen remained in the hall, fists bruised, practicing the same flow of strikes again and again.
Bang entered quietly, watching from the shadows.
"Why do you push yourself so far?" the old master finally asked.
Kaizen stopped, sweat dripping from his chin. He looked at his battered hands. "…Because I've seen what happens when strength isn't enough. I don't want to read about heroes anymore. I want to be one. Even if it kills me."
Bang's eyes softened.
"…Then perhaps you truly belong here."
Meanwhile, Garou sat on the dojo's roof, staring at the stars. His grin was sharp, but his thoughts darker.
He's different. Not like the others. Not weak. But not naive either.
He clenched his fist.
Good. That means when I crush him, it will mean something.
The dojo of Silver Fang had become more than a place of training.
It was a crucible. And within it, two paths one of resilience, one of rebellion were about to collide.