Upstairs, Renji enters the managerial office without knocking. He pushes the door open with the heel of his hand, shoulders loose, steps unhurried. A tailored suit frames his tall figure, crisp lines catching the light with effortless sharpness.
His presence alone carries the air of someone who belongs in headlines and billboards as much as the ring. He looks untouchable, every inch the star Japan calls its champion.
"What's wrong, old man?" he says, half a grin tugging his lips. "Why didn't you just let me spar that gaijin?"
Kirizume sits behind his desk, arms folded. His gaze is calm but heavy, the kind of stare that cuts deeper the longer it lingers.
"Don't be stupid," he says flatly.
Renji tilts his head, feigning innocence. "What? You scared I might break your little unpolished gem?"
