The sound that fills the arena when the bell ends the second round isn't an explosion. It's a restless buzz, layered and uneven, spreading outward like heat.
Something has shifted. People aren't shouting Ryoma Takeda's name yet, they aren't chanting. But they aren't doubting him either. The uncertainty that clung to him in the first round has loosened its grip, replaced by something sharper.
Curiosity, recalibration, the sense that whatever they thought this fight was going to be, it has quietly become something else.
The youngster who looked stiff and pressured early didn't crumble. He's finally settled, finally showing what he's capable off.
And by the end of the second round, the ring had started to tilt Ryoma's way.
At ringside, the commentators are still half out of their seats, voices overlapping with frustration more than excitement.
"Oh, come on," one of them says. "That bell ruined it."
