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Pakura lay in the hospital bed, the sterile scent of the room blending with the dull ache that ran through her body. Her bones throbbed, her muscles protested with every breath, but none of that compared to the storm raging in her mind. She had come closer to death than ever before, and the thought sent a ripple of fury through her. Haruto had pushed her to the very brink, stripping her of the power she had always believed was invincible. But beneath the anger, beneath the humiliation, was something far more important: clarity.

She had been a frog at the bottom of a well.

For too long, Pakura had relied solely on her Scorch Release, confident that its overwhelming power would carry her through any battle. And until now, it had. Her flames had overheated her enemies, she had believed scortch release would make her unstoppable.

But Haruto had shattered that illusion. He had come prepared, his seals neutralizing her Scorch Release as though it were nothing more than a nuisance. And once that was taken away, what had she been left with? Nothing. She had stood there, defenseless, with no other cards to play. That was the bitterest realization of all—that without her scortch release, she was vulnerable.

Pakura's eyes narrowed as she stared at the ceiling. That will never happen again.

It wasn't just Haruto she had to think about—no, this was bigger than him. He had revealed something critical: she had become predictable. She had allowed herself to rely too heavily on a single weapon, and that had made her easy to counter. If Haruto could do it, others could too. She knew now that there would always be opponents who came prepared, enemies who would study her, plan for her. And if they could neutralize her flames, then what did she have left?

Nothing, for now. But that would change.

Pakura clenched her fists under the blanket, her resolve hardening with every passing second. She couldn't afford to be a one-trick shinobi anymore. She had to evolve. She had to be more than just her Scorch Release. If she had learned anything from this, it was that power alone wasn't enough. She needed versatility. She needed to be a shinobi who could adapt, who could thrive even when her opponent thought they had her figured out.

I need an ace in the hole, she realized, her mind beginning to race. Something hidden. Something no one would see coming. If her Scorch Release was countered, she needed a fallback—a secret weapon that could turn the tide when everything else had failed. Something that wasn't written in the scrolls or whispered about in hidden meetings. It had to be hers alone, a technique so devastating that no opponent would ever anticipate it.

Pakura took a deep breath, ignoring the pain in her chest. She wouldn't be caught off guard again. She would train, push herself harder than she ever had before. She would develop something new, something devastating that no one could plan for. She would make sure that the next time she faced an enemy, they wouldn't know what hit them, even if they came fully prepared.

This wasn't just about Haruto anymore. It was about her own survival. Her own growth. Haruto had shown her the limits of her current strength, but that didn't mean she was defeated. Far from it. This realization had given her something greater than any victory could have: the motivation to push beyond her limits, to become something more.

Pakura smiled bitterly to herself. She hated Haruto, but in a twisted way, she was almost thankful. He had shown her the gaps in her strength, and now she had the chance to fill them. She wouldn't waste it.

Never again will I find myself helpless, she thought with steely determination. No matter who I face, no matter how prepared they are.

The next time she entered the battlefield, she wouldn't just rely on her flames. She would be a force that no one—no matter how clever or prepared—could counter.

And if Haruto ever crossed her path again, he would find out the hard way.

Ironically, this thinking would one day save her life.

And she would have Haruto to thank for it.