*Smack*
*Smack*
*Smack*
Ichiro's hands rhythmically entered the cauldron and struck the sand inside.
In and out, he repeated the same motion hundreds of times before his hands started having signs of skin ripping off, but he didn't mind the sudden spike in pain.
He stopped for a split second before continuing once again. The sound of shouts came from the outside, while the dojo had one sound, only one.
The sound of flesh smacking against coarse sand and to many, it could be a disgusting sound, but for Ichiro, it was the sound of getting stronger.
He has lost track of time, but seeing that the sun was still in the sky, it was too soon to call quits.
Sweatdrops trickled down from his forehead all the way to his chin, and from there, it dropped down to his bare muscular chest and flowed from there all the way to the floor of the dojo.
