The same day, the same noon.
The air inside Kirizume Boxing Gym is heavy with sound, the rhythmic slap of jump ropes, and the smack of gloves against pads.
In the ring, Renji Kuroiwa moves like a storm in rhythm.
His build now is deceptive, solid, a bit soft around the waist, but heavy with power. Each motion has density, every jab, every step, sounds heavier than it looks.
Across from him stands Morine Mizusaki, ranked 10th in the lightweight division, a sharp compact puncher with quick feet and a solid chin.
The bell for second round of spar rings, and Renji advances, glove raised high, chin tucked behind his shoulder.
And it begins, his flicker jabs.
Snap! Snap! Snap!
A triple jab comes from that odd loose shoulder roll stance. But unlike the flickers of a pure outboxer, Renji's jabs have weight behind them.
They don't just touch; they snap, each jab landing like a hammer in disguise.
