Lookism: Legend of Oni

After a few days of rest, Ha-Joon slowly stretched his body and took a deep breath of fresh air. Because of rain, he had to spent the days at the infirmary. And without moving his body, all the part of his body was stiffed. Fortunately, rain had stopped and he was ordered to meet Shintaro to take on the confinement punishment.

As he finished stretching out his body, he moved towards Shintaro house.

.....

 Inside the dimly lit house, Shintaro sat on a chair, one leg crossed over the other, his signature fan resting lightly in his hand. His posture was composed, exuding an air of authority, yet there was a quiet ease in the way he tapped the edge of the fan against his palm. His gaze, calm yet piercing, settled on Ha-Joon as if weighing him with every silent second.

The room was still, save for the faint rustling of the wind slipping through the wooden panels. There was no hostility, yet an unspoken tension lingered. Shintaro finally spoke, his voice smooth but firm.

"How is your body."

"I've recovered from the injuries." said Ha-Joon as he stretched his arms before clenching. 

Shintaro nodded and slowly stood up from his chair, walked towards the entrance door and signaled: "Follow me.".

Ha-Joon nodded and followed him.

They walked in silence, leaving the house behind, and moved towards the back of Yamazaki Base which was filled with trees. The sound of their footsteps swallowed by the forest. The deeper they went, the more unforgiving the terrain became. Thick roots coiled beneath their feet, the ground slick from the earlier rain. Birds scattered at their approach, their shrill cries echoing through the trees.

After what felt like an eternity, Shintaro finally stopped at the edge of a steep incline, where the jungle stretched endlessly below. He gestured toward the untamed wilderness.

"This is where you'll stay. No food. No weapons. No help." He spoke with his usual stoic face.

Ha-Joon didn't respond. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, descending into the wild, where only his strength and will would dictate his survival.

Behind him, Shintaro watched for a moment before turning away, muttering to himself.

"Let's see if you come back stronger… or if you even come back at all."

.....

Ha-Joon descended the incline without hesitation, his shoes sinking into the damp soil as the jungle swallowed him whole. The thick canopy above barely let any light through, casting the forest into a perpetual twilight of green and shadow. Every step forward brought the sound of rustling leaves, the chirping of unseen insects, and the occasional distant growl of something lurking within the depths.

This was his new reality.

He took a deep breath, grounding himself: "The punishment had begun."

Shintaro's words echoed in his mind: No food. No weapons. No help.

Ha-Joon understood the unspoken message. This wasn't just about confinement. It was a test—of endurance, instinct, pure, relentless will. If he wasn't prepared to break past his limits here, then he wasn't ready to take another step toward his goal.

His first priority was finding a place to settle. He scanned the jungle, noting a twisted old tree with thick, gnarled roots stretching over a rocky incline. The elevated ground would give him some advantage against predators, and the roots could offer some degree of shelter. Good enough for now.

Stripping off his outer black robe, Ha-Joon tied it to a low-hanging branch, marking his temporary camp. He cracked his knuckles and exhaled, shifting his weight into a loose stance. He wasn't going to waste time. If he was going to survive here, if he was going to emerge stronger, he needed to start pushing his body to perfection.

The first step: Conditioning.

He moved toward the nearest tree, its bark rough and unyielding. Raising his fists, he began to strike—slowly at first, testing the surface, feeling the resistance. The pain came almost instantly, raw and stinging, but he welcomed it. His fists struck again. And again. Until the sting became dull, until the bark no longer felt like wood but merely another barrier to overcome.

Hours passed, or maybe minutes—it didn't matter. Sweat trickled down his back, his breath coming in steady, controlled rhythms. When his knuckles bled, he switched to kicks, driving his shins into the wood with brutal force, embracing the ache as his bones hardened.

This was his new rhythm. Strike. Breathe. Endure.

As night fell, the jungle came alive with a different kind of energy. The rustling in the bushes became heavier, more deliberate. The howls of unseen creatures carried through the trees.

Ha-Joon wiped the sweat from his brow, his body sore but his mind sharper than ever. He glanced at the dark expanse before him, the vast unknown that would be his world for the days to come.

A sharp gust of wind rustled the leaves above, carrying with it the scent of damp wood and something faintly metallic—blood, though not his own. He turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he scanned the darkness beyond his makeshift camp.

The jungle was changing.

By day, the thick foliage concealed small creatures and the occasional rustling lizard. By night, however, it belonged to hunters—silent, efficient, and merciless. The chirping of insects had dulled, replaced by deeper, guttural sounds, shifting movements in the underbrush that told him he was being watched.

He remained still, his breath slow and measured: "Predator do not attack blindly, they must be waiting for my weakness."

But Ha-Joon was no prey. 

A flicker of movement to his right. He caught it from the corner of his eye—low to the ground, deliberate, a presence studying him just as intently as he studied it. He didn't move, and make himself the mistake of flinching. Instead, he shifted his stance subtly, planting his feet firmly into the soil, ready to explode forward at a moment's notice.

Then, in the darkness, a glint of eyes—small, but sharp, reflecting the dim light filtering through the canopy. A low snarl followed, a deep-throated warning that sent vibrations through the air.

"A jungle wolf." He muttered.

Larger than its normal kind in the mountains, leaner, and built for endurance, it was a creature perfectly adapted to this brutal environment. And it was not alone.

Another snarl, this time from behind. A second pair of eyes, then a third. The pack had already begun to surround him.

Ha-Joon clenched his fists, his bruised knuckles flexing as he slowly lowered himself into a stance, his body coiled like a spring. His exhaustion was irrelevant. His aching limbs meant nothing. It was time to test his limit, just like everything else.

The first wolf lunged.

Ha-Joon twisted his body, pivoting on his heel as he narrowly avoided the snap of its jaws. In the same motion, he brought his knee up, smashing it into the wolf's ribs with explosive force. A sharp crack echoed in the night as the creature yelped and tumbled into the dirt.

Another one rushed in from behind, but Ha-Joon was already moving. He planted his foot and spun, his heel slicing through the air in a perfectly timed to execute roundhouse kick. The wolf barely had time to react before the strike connected with its skull, sending it sprawling into the underbrush.

The final wolf hesitated, growling low, its tail twitching as it reassessed.

Ha-Joon met its gaze, his own eyes burning with something primal. He didn't need to growl. He didn't need to bare his teeth. His presence alone was a declaration—I am the greater predator here.

The wolf took a step back, ears flattening, then turned and vanished into the darkness. The others, injured but alive, followed. The jungle fell silent once more.

Ha-Joon exhaled, rolling his shoulders, feeling the tension fade and sighed: "A successful hunt is not always about killing, It's about control."

He turned back toward his makeshift camp and sat against the tree, blood drying on his knuckles, sweat cooling on his skin. His body ached, his muscles burned, but none of that mattered.

Tonight, he had faced the harshness of jungle. He had slowly began to adapt.

But there were still many nights ahead.

The true training had only just begun.

This was only the beginning.

He smiled and spoke: "Let the real training begin."

.....

(Don't be bored, as I'm going to skip all the long training arc and will only take another chapter to brief his training)