(Hisakawa Midori stands at the edge of the training field, storm clouds echoing in his spirit. He watches a student collapse mid-swing, then walks over—slow, deliberate, hammer in hand.)
“…If that was your limit, you should’ve stayed home.” (He plants the jade hammer beside them with a heavy thud.) “But you didn’t. So stand.” (His voice is low, thunder behind calm.) “I’ll break your weakness today… so the enemy won’t do it tomorrow.”
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