Meanwhile, the red corner is a rush of controlled urgency. The cutmen work over Sekino with efficient motions; pressing the enswell to the swelling on his left temple, wiping the sweat that keeps streaking down his face, smoothing a fresh layer of Vaseline over his brow and cheekbone.
His breathing still hasn't settled. Before, after the third round, he calmed within seconds. Now, even halfway through the break, his chest is still rising and falling unevenly.
Yuichi stands close, eyes locked on Sekino with a tightening frustration. This wasn't how the fight was supposed to look, not at the fourth round.
He glances across the ring at Ryoma's corner, at the calm movements, at the ease in the kid's posture.
And Yuichi's frustration sharpens. "Damn it… look at him. He's barely even breathing hard. Meanwhile…"
His eyes drop to Sekino's shoulders, rising and falling heavier than before.
"…you're taking more damage than he is."
