"Better, but still not good enough!" The whip came down, slicing into flesh. I bit back my cry and tried again. I leapt forwards, hands curled into fists.
Driving my fist forwards, I twisted my wrist. Steel claws flashed silver as they split skin and tore through muscle.
The girl in front of me screamed, but I hardened my heart to her cries. I pulled my hand back, staring at the bright crimson stain on the claws.
This is what I had been taught. This is what it meant to be a fighter, a shinobi. I raised my fist again, but something stopped me from finishing her.
I couldn't kill her, though I knew she was dying anyway. She was carried away, her blood dripping to the floor, crimson stains the only mark that she had fought here.
"Well done," a voice murmured softly.
"She should have killed her," another voice interrupted sharply. I kept my gaze on the crimson staining the floor, face blank. "She should have finished her off. She's weak!" he spat.
I clenched my fist, claws sliding over my knuckles. Hitaro Hyūga noted the movement, and smirked. "She can't control her emotions. She will never be strong enough."
Slowly, I opened my hand, claws retracting. Hitaro continued to argue with the masked man who trained me, Sensei.
Bored, I slipped away unnoticed and silently padded back to the room I had shared with Mika. The image of my claws splitting her skin flashed into my head.
I pushed the image into the darkest corner of my mind, where I kept the memories of all my old roommates.
A brief sadness constricted my chest, before I locked away all the memories. Crawling into bed, I fell asleep quickly, unaware of the tears sliding down my cheeks.
