Back at Nakahara Gym, late afternoon.
The winter light slants low through the windows, bleaching everything into gray. Reporters still crowd the ring, recorders thrust forward like hungry mouths.
This time, Nakahara lets them.
Ryoma sits on the ring apron, towel draped over his shoulders, his posture relaxed but distant. His gaze never wavers, even as the reporters crowd closer.
"Ryoma-kun, word is Ayano called you a coward earlier today. Said you ran away from the Rookie Final. Any comment on that?" one of them asks, leaning forward, recorder held out like bait.
But Ryoma doesn't blink. "I see," he says evenly. "If that's what he said, then I'll just do my best to give him a good fight."
Another reporter cuts in before the first can follow up. "So you're not denying it? You don't think he's just trying to get inside your head?"
