The locker room stays frozen after Ayano's words, no one laughs, no one moves.
The echo of his voice hangs in the air, louder than the celebration outside. Okabe's shoulders tense beneath the towel, his hands curling slowly into fists. Kenta stares at the floor like he's afraid he'll throw something if he looks up.
But Aramaki, Ryoma's closest friend, refuses to let it pass, the tension finally pushing him to speak.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," he says at last.
Ayano turns his head, lazy, amused. "What was that?"
"With the way you fought," Aramaki continues, voice steady despite the heat crawling up his neck, "there's no way you beat Shinichi Yanagimoto. You walked through damage because your opponent let you."
The room tightens another notch, air thickening as every pair of shoulders stiffens, eyes flicking between them, waiting for the first real spark to ignite.
