The bell cut through the noise like a blade.
Jin moved before he thought.
Left foot slid. Right followed. His guard rose naturally, elbows tucked, chin down. The ring felt smaller than the gym—but familiar enough. Canvas firm. Ropes alive.
Across from him, Kurosawa Daichi came forward immediately.
No hesitation.
"Let's go," Kurosawa said, grinning as he stepped in.
Jin didn't answer.
He circled.
The crowd reacted first—murmurs, then louder voices as Kurosawa stalked him. Jin's feet traced the edge of the ring, not running, not retreating. Just existing where Kurosawa wasn't.
A jab snapped out.
Light. Precise. A tap to the forehead.
Kurosawa laughed and threw a harder one back. Jin slipped half a step and let it pass, glove brushing his cheek. The air moved more than the punch.
"So you're that type," Kurosawa muttered.
Another jab from Jin. Then another. Not fast. Not sharp enough to excite the crowd.
Boos trickled in.
"Fight!" someone shouted.
Kurosawa obliged.
He lunged with a wide hook, trying to trap Jin near the ropes. Jin pivoted, shoulder brushing the strand as he turned out. The hook missed—but the follow-up didn't.
A right hand slammed into Jin's ribs.
The sound was dull. Heavy.
Jin's breath left him in a short burst. He slid back instinctively, guard tightening.
Ah.
There it is.
Kurosawa grinned wider. "Found you."
He pressed harder now, feet stomping, punches swinging with intent. Jin blocked, rolled, slipped—but another body shot crept through, digging deeper this time.
In the stands, Shimada stood up. "HEY—"
"Sit," Mori snapped, eyes glued to the ring.
Jin didn't panic.
He adjusted.
His steps shortened. His circle tightened. He stopped suddenly—just for a heartbeat—then moved again. Kurosawa overstepped once, just barely, and Jin's jab snapped out, landing clean on the nose.
Not strong.
But sharp.
Kurosawa blinked.
The crowd quieted, confused.
The round ended with Kurosawa still advancing, Jin still moving, both men breathing harder than before. When the bell rang again, Kurosawa smiled like he'd won something.
Jin returned to his corner calmly.
"You see it," Kagawa said.
"Yes," Jin replied.
That was all.
Round two started faster.
Kurosawa came out aggressive, confident now. He cut the ring better, stepping diagonally instead of straight ahead. Jin felt the space shrinking.
Good.
This is real.
Jin jabbed, then stopped. Let Kurosawa rush. Let him swing.
A hook whistled past Jin's ear. Jin pivoted inside this time—not away—and fired a quick one-two. Jab. Cross.
Both landed.
Kurosawa staggered half a step, surprise flashing across his face before anger replaced it.
He charged.
Too hard.
Jin slid aside and tapped him again. Not power—placement. Kurosawa's punches started hitting gloves, shoulders, air. His breathing grew louder. His footwork sloppier.
The crowd shifted.
Someone cheered.
Kurosawa threw another right to the body. Jin caught most of it—but not all. Pain bloomed low and deep. He grunted softly and moved, sweat dripping into his eyes.
Between exchanges, he noticed something.
Kurosawa was slowing.
Just a little.
The bell rang.
Both men stood in their corners, chests rising and falling. Kurosawa leaned on the ropes, wiping sweat from his brow, grin gone. Jin sat, calm but marked, ribs aching, legs warm.
Mari watched from ringside, eyes sharp.
He's still breathing evenly.
The referee signaled the break.
Jin stood again.
The ring felt different now.
Smaller.
But not for him.
END OF CHAPTER
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