After that brutal war, Otone trained relentlessly.
He sat alone in a dark, silent room, shadows stretching across the walls, whispering of his past failures. Then he stood, a 17-year-old boy burdened by a world he was never meant to face.
"I need to train harder than ever before," he muttered, voice low but resolute.
Fists clenched, he slammed them against the cold, metal walls. Thud! Thud! The echo reverberated through the empty room.
"If ten times harder isn't enough… I must train a hundred times harder!"
Blood welled up in his knuckles, painting his palms red, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on. "No… two hundred times harder."
Over and over. Punch after punch. Pain, sweat, and determination fused together in a relentless rhythm, echoing the unyielding beat of his heart.
Elsewhere, a navy commander observed from afar. "Otone… he's making incredible progress. But why is he always injured?"
His companion shrugged, eyes wide. "He trains alone every night. Even beyond the Navy drills. This kid… he's different."
The commander sighed, a mix of awe and foreboding in his voice. "That… that's the future of the Navy."
In Otone's mind, only one thing resonated, louder than pain, louder than exhaustion:
"Become stronger."
"Work harder. Harder. Harder."
Two years of relentless effort—long nights of solitude and punishment—had forged a resolve that would not bend.
Now, sitting on the chair outside his dorm room, his fists wrapped in bandages soaked red with fresh blood, he whispered to himself, teeth gritted:
"It hurts like hell… but I have to become stronger than ever."
A quiet promise echoed in the darkness. A vow he would never break.