Rough path towards weigh-in, the week crawls by in sweat and hunger.
Just as usual, Ryoma's mornings always start with roadwork. At the gym, he drills mitts, bags, and shadowboxing, but everything is measured. His punches are sharp, yet his face begins to look pale, lips cracked, muscles hollowed by the cut.
Nakahara watches with a frown. "Don't burn yourself out. You need to make weight, not bury yourself in training."
Ryoma only nods, but the fire in his eyes says otherwise. To him, every rep is a stone placed on the wall he's building between himself and Kanzaki.
"I've gone through this before. It's not as hard as the first time."
His gymmates only whisper on the sidelines.
"Man, he looks drained…"
"Yeah, but look at those flickers. They're still getting faster."
Ryoma's Vision Grid's still sharp as ever, quietly tracking every heartbeat, every percentage of hydration, every dip in energy.
