The silence stretches until it starts to hum. Then a staffer pokes his head through the door, voice cutting the stillness.
"Ryoma Takeda! You're up soon. Wraps checked in five."
Ryoma gives a short nod and resumes his warm-up, shadowboxing in the middle of the room. The air fills with the faint thuds of his feet, the whisper of gloves brushing fabric.
Ryohei stays hunched on the bench, laces half-undone, eyes fixed on the floor. No one speaks. The walls seem to breathe with them.
Minutes drag until the door creaks open again, the same staffer, waiting by the door.
"Ready?"
Coach Nakahara answers with a nod, motioning toward Ryoma.
"Let's move, kid."
Ryoma follows him out, Sera and Hiroshi in tow. The corridor already smells of dread and expectation.
Kenta hesitates beside Ryohei, about to speak, but Ryohei's already on his feet, rushing to the door. Once he reaches the corridor, he calls out, voice rough.
"Hey, Ryoma!"
Ryoma turns, framed by the hallway light.
