Jira stood with his bare torso in the center of the room, his gaze unwavering as it fixated upon the tall, imposing standing mirror before him.
The room was filled with an air of tension, and the remnants of his past defeat clung to him like a suffocating shroud. Bandages adorned most of his arm, a stark reminder of the battle he had lost.
A surge of overwhelming emotions flooded through Jira's veins, threatening to consume him entirely. The memories of Sato, his adversary, relentlessly replayed in his mind, each instance more humiliating than the last. The searing pain, both physical and psychological, had pushed Jira to his limit.
In a moment of fiery determination, Jira's fist collided with the reflective surface, shattering it into countless shards that scattered across the room. As the fragments rained down, he stood there, panting heavily, his breaths ragged and erratic.
