It's almost midday, but the cold still lingers inside Nakahara Gym. Ryohei and Okabe are laughing near the corner, trading jokes with three of the amateur juniors. Their breath fogs the air each time they shout.
Across the room, Kenta is still hammering the sandbag, sweat flying off his arms, the sound of leather on canvas echoing through the gym in steady rhythm.
Ryoma is at the center ring, mid-conditioning. He's working the mitts with Nakahara. Each punch lands clean, but he's still adjusting to his new weight, 64 Kg, the number set for fight day.
But Nakahara's focus keeps slipping. Between sets, he glances toward the door, then at the clock above the mirror.
The minute hand crawls past ten. But Aramaki still hasn't shown up. He's never late, not once. But today, the gym feels a little emptier without him.
For a moment, Nakahara stops calling out numbers. His gaze lingers on the clock again.
"Something wrong, Coach?" Ryoma asks.
