Around the ring, several pairs of eyes drift toward Ryoma as he continues his mitt session with Nakahara. The sound of impact is sharp but controlled, each strike landing with intention rather than excess, and the rhythm between fighter and coach carries a tension that pulls attention almost against their will.
Tap. PAKK!
Tap–tap. PAKK!
Aramaki and Okabe pause their drills without realizing it. Even Ryohei finds his gaze pulled away from his own warm-up.
There is something different about the way Ryoma moves now, something restrained but heavy, as if every punch is being filtered through judgment instead of instinct.
Sera notices it too, and he clicks his tongue softly before shifting his focus. "Enough sightseeing," he says sharply. "Ryohei! You've got your own fight to worry about."
Ryohei straightens slightly, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off stiffness. "I know, Coach."
