He ducks, letting the glove slicing air above his head, and drives a right hook into Sekino's ribs.
Thud!!!
"Wooooa…" a commentator bursts out. "Ryoma finally lands something real tonight, a sickening blow to the body!"
The sound is dull and heavy, flesh on muscle. The crowd gasps as if a breath has been stolen from the hall.
But Sekino doesn't show any pain, or maybe he hides it well. His counter comes instantly, a chopping right over the top.
Dug!
It slams against Ryoma's raised left glove. Ryoma fires back, a sharp double right hook to two different targets; ribs, and then head.
But Sekino's defense holds.
Dug! Dug!
He catches the first on his forearm, rolls the second with his lead shoulder, and then slides back just enough to breathe, using the smallest possible step.
"Damn… he's good."
Ryoma stays planted, watching every twitch of Sekino's upper body.
The exchange is short, brutal, and silent, two craftsmen chiseling fractions of control out of each second.
