But the rule is absolute. The extra time was a gift born from Jade's own mistake. The referee doesn't hesitate. He points a sharp finger at Ryoma, his voice a gravelly roar that reawakens the official count.
"Four!"
The crowd erupts. It is a lifeline, a blatant defiance of the passage of time, and the only chance Ryoma has left to crawl back from the brink.
Ryoma's hand fully grips the rope, both feet planting on the canvas. He stands up, one hand still holding the ropes.
Six!
He hears the ref still counting, but he takes the moment to rest.
Seven!
Eight!
Finally, Ryoma releases the rope and turns toward the referee. His legs still tremble beneath him, but he raises his gloves anyway.
The count stops. The ref grips Ryoma's gloves firmly, eyes searching for something far more important.
"Look at me," he says. "What's your name?"
"…Ryoma Takeda," he answers.
The referee presses on. "Do you know where you are?"
"In the ring."
"Which ring?"
