Aramaki keeps hunting patiently, cutting Hiroyuki's pathways one by one, edging him toward the corner again.
But Hiroyuki no longer chooses only to run. He steps in suddenly, unleashing another tight flurry…
Dug, dug, dug, dug!
…every shot blocked, yet enough to halt Aramaki's advance for a heartbeat. He uses that instant to wheel out to the side and reclaim the center of the ring.
He refuses to let the tempo dip. His rhythm tightens, his legs blur, and for a moment the ring feels too wide to contain him, as he keeps claiming every inch of space he needs.
Aramaki blocks, slides, slips. But still a few jabs snap against his face, and one lead hook thuds behind his guard.
He loads his right hand, but Hiroyuki is already gone, darting back out of range before he can pull the trigger.
The hunt resets, slow and deliberate. But this time, Hiroyuki's the one dictating the pace.
The commentators scramble in, voices rising with the shift in tempo:
