Unlike the usual three-round routine, today's sparring stretches into a fourth. Ryoma allows it, not out of lenience, but purpose.
He holds back just enough to let Okabe keep up, to push without crushing him. After all, from build alone, Okabe is a bit smaller than Aramaki.
From the sidelines, Nakahara watches closely. What catches his attention isn't Ryoma's strength or sharpness, but his restraint, how he measures every strike, how he now understands control.
And it's not only about controlling the fight, but also controlling his own output, the number of punches thrown, and the power behind them.
"That's enough, kid!" Nakahara calls out. "Take a break. Okabe, continue with Aramaki."
Ryoma steps back, breathing still steady even after four rounds. He comes to Nakahara, letting him remove his headgear.
And then he slips through the ropes, patting his glove on Aramaki's shoulder.
"Don't hold back," he says casually. "He's stupid, but his body's smarter than you think."
