Hoshino City Boxing Gym — 7 P.M.
Rain drummed against tin roofing, echoing like applause.
The old Minori Gym sat between shuttered shops and flickering signs.
Inside: one ring, one hanging bulb, one man wrapping tape around scar-lined hands.
Rento Minori.
He was taller than Daigo, older by six years, body cut by repetition and regret.
Across the floor, Tomo Kisaragi stepped through the doorway, gym bag over shoulder, eyes unreadable.
"Didn't think you'd come," Rento said without looking up.
"You sent a challenge," Tomo replied. "Would've been rude not to."
Rento smirked. "Polite killer. Cute."
He tossed Tomo a pair of gloves—black, cracked, heavier than they looked.
"Same weight class. No headgear. You good with that?"
Tomo nodded. "Never liked helmets."
Round One
No crowd.
Just the ring creaking under their feet.
Rento started with light jabs, testing range. Tomo watched, measuring rhythm.
The difference showed instantly: Rento's punches carried purpose—years of training, anger honed into craft.
Thud. Thud. Each landed on Tomo's guard, making the ropes quake.
Jin's voice echoed faintly from a corner, whisper-filming.
"Live-ish from somewhere we're not supposed to be! Pray for us!"
Rika hissed, "Shut up! He'll hear!"
Kei whispered, "Worth it."
Aya stood nearest the ropes, hands clenched white around a towel.
Rento's next hook caught Tomo's shoulder. The sound was sharp.
"You hold back," Rento said. "I can smell it."
Tomo exhaled. "I don't like breaking things."
"Then you shouldn't have started fighting."
Round Two
Rento came in heavier—body shots like hammers.
Tomo's guard held, but his ribs throbbed. He pivoted, slipped a cross, slid away.
Rika muttered, "He's reading, not reacting."
Kei adjusted his glasses. "Like he's studying the man's soul in slow motion."
Jin whispered, "He's gonna die."
Tomo's counter came late but surgical: short straight to the midsection, turning hips, clean.
Rento grunted, stepped back, smiled. "Finally."
Then the older man's tempo changed—faster, tighter, meaner.
He forced Tomo toward the ropes, fists painting patterns of violence.
Tomo ducked, rolled under a right, landed an uppercut that lifted sweat into the light.
They broke apart, breathing heavy.
"Why me?" Tomo asked between breaths.
Rento's eyes hardened. "Because you fight like I used to—before I started liking the sound of bones."
Break
Aya moved close with water. "You're getting hit more."
"Learning curve."
She frowned. "Learning what?"
He looked past her, voice flat. "Where my line is."
Round Three
Bell rang.
Rento didn't wait.
A hook crashed into Tomo's side—pain blooming hot. Another caught his jaw; stars flickered.
Aya gasped.
Jin's phone shook. "He's down—!"
Tomo didn't fall. He blinked once, spat blood, stepped forward.
Something in his posture changed—shoulders lower, breath slower, eyes quiet.
Rento recognized it instantly. "There it is."
Tomo's next movement wasn't angry; it was inevitable.
Slip. Pivot. Cross.
Three motions—one thought.
The punch landed dead-center. The sound wasn't loud; it was final.
Rento staggered, knees bending, body folding like an unplugged machine.
He caught the ropes, swaying, then smiled through blood.
"You finally meant it."
He sank to one knee. Bell never rang. There was no referee—just silence.
Aftermath
Tomo's gloves hung loose. "You okay?"
Rento laughed softly. "You hit clean. Haven't felt that in years."
Tomo started to answer, but Rento raised a hand. "Don't. That was what I needed."
Daigo stepped from the doorway—he'd been there the whole time, arms crossed.
Aya rushed forward with towels; Jin and Kei pretended they hadn't been livestreaming.
Rika's voice broke the quiet. "Was that… winning?"
Tomo glanced at her. "Didn't feel like it."
Outside — Rain
They walked out under gray drizzle. The city hummed low.
Aya walked beside Tomo, umbrella half-open.
"He's okay," she said. "Daigo's taking him to hospital."
Tomo nodded, silent.
"You look… lighter," she said.
He looked up. "Maybe because I finally stopped running from what I am."
She smiled faintly. "And what's that?"
He thought for a long time. "A fighter who doesn't need a reason anymore."
Aya's eyes softened. "Then find one before someone gives you theirs."
Later That Night — Rooftop Again
The Combat Club gathered under neon-streaked clouds.
Jin held up a bag of canned coffee like a toast. "To surviving our own club activities!"
Kei raised his, grinning. "To content!"
Rika sighed. "To paperwork that'll haunt us forever."
Aya smiled at Tomo. "To fighting only when it matters."
He looked out over the city.
The lights below blinked like tiny bells.
Maybe for the first time, he let himself breathe.
Elsewhere — Rento's Hospital Room
Bandaged hands. Beeping monitors.
Daigo sat beside his brother.
Rento murmured, eyes half-open, "He's not fighting people… he's fighting the part of himself that still cares."
Daigo looked at the rain outside. "Think he'll win?"
Rento smiled. "That's what scares me."
[END OF CHAPTER 5 — "The Weight of One Hit"]