The meeting dissolves. Ryoma and Aramaki step back into the gym. The others glance up, curious and expectant, but say nothing.
Ryoma wraps fresh tape around his knuckles. The sound of it peeling and snapping fills the quiet like the ticking of a clock.
Aramaki rolls his shoulders, loosening the stiffness, and then pulls his gloves on with two sharp tugs.
When they both climb into the ring, Okabe leans closer to Hiroshi.
"Wait… what are they doing?"
"Sparring," Hiroshi replies.
"Seriously?" Ryohei frowns. "Aramaki's got his own promotional fight coming up. What if Ryoma breaks something again?"
Okabe grunts. "Yeah, what if he sends him back to the hospital?"
"We've got Nakahara here," Hiroshi says calmly. "Okabe, take the bell and timer."
"Right," Okabe mutters, already hurrying to his post.
The two fighters stand across from each other. The ropes creak faintly as they shift their weight.
