The gym falls into a strange quiet. Even the shuffle of feet fades beneath the steady slap of Elliot's jabs…
Pak, pak, pak!
…each one swinging with that hypnotic pendulum motion.
Ringside eyes follow the sway, breath held, as Ryoma inches forward again, guard tight, refusing to break the spell.
He's deciphered Elliot's rhythm. He has confirmed it, and now it is time for a test run.
His Vision Grid continues tracking the tempo, each jab measured and mapped. Ryoma uses the data to search for an opening to slip deeper inside.
For now, he just blocks.
Pak, pak, pak!
He could slip, duck, weave. But no, he doesn't do it. He just keeps blocking, letting his body absorb the pattern, feel the beat.
To everyone else, it looks like stubbornness, a fighter running out of answers.
Nakahara and Sera think the same but stay silent. They just let Ryoma use this spar as a live experiment.
