Ayano's supporters, just ten seconds ago still roaring with pride, gradually fall silent. Faces twist in confusion, disappointment, disbelief. The boxer who once dominated every match now looks like a clueless amateur.
At the red corner, Takashiro has been glaring in frustration, jaw tight, eyes hollow. Then he snaps, slamming both hands on the apron.
"Are you stupid or what!?" he roars. "Raise your guard! Just survive this round and get back here! Don't you dare throw another punch!"
Normally, that kind of order makes no sense. Going fully defensive just invites your opponent to do whatever he wants.
But Takashiro's faith in his fighter has gone. He no longer trusts Ayano's judgment. All that's left is damage control, to protect him until the round ends.
And Ayano obeys, or maybe Ryoma's calculated assault forces him to. He shells up, both gloves high, chin tucked, absorbing the blows.
Ryoma stays patient, circling, reading, picking his shots like a surgeon.
