"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐨𝐰." - 𝑵𝒂𝒐𝒚𝒂 𝒁𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏
⟶ He was born a king, and he reigned as a god. Gojo didn't walk-he crushed. His laughter slapped the w...
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The Zen'in clan's training ground was a miniature battlefield, a place where pain forged bodies and crushed the weak. The dirt-covered ground, marked by deep footprints and dried bloodstains, bore silent witness to decades of brutal training.
Chihiro was the only woman among them.
Around her, men. Young, old, arrogant, ruthless. All Zen'in. And all of them looked at her with that quiet contempt. She could feel their barely concealed amusement, their patience wearing thin at the mere sight of her.
— Seriously, is she really training with us? one of them muttered, stretching lazily.
— Guess we've hit rock bottom, another chuckled.
— Does she even know how to talk? Oh, right... The Mute.
Laughter erupted. "The Mute." That was what they called her since childhood. Here, in the Zen'in clan, her silence was an insult, a defiance against the brutality of their world.
Naoya, leading the training, said nothing. He watched the scene with an amused smirk, blue eyes gleaming. He wasn't the type to step in when the weak were mocked.
— Alright, you bunch of maggots, he drawled. We're starting. Physical training. No cursed energy, no techniques. Just your fists, your guts, and your damn endurance. Anyone who breaks, get lost.
