Ryoma lifts his gloves, trembling with exhaustion. The arena erupts again, louder than before, chanting his name.
RYO-MA! RYO-MA! RYO-MA!
Then he raises a hand high. For a moment he lets the noise wash over him; relief, exhaustion, triumph all tangled together.
But as he lowers his arms and glances across the ring, he finally notices Sekino. The older fighter, battered and barely upright, still takes the time to bow deeply to his supporters.
It's an apology, quiet, humble, and sincere, a veteran accepting the result with dignity.
Ryoma waits, watching Sekino finish his bow. When the man straightens and happens to meet his eyes, Ryoma returns the gesture.
His bow isn't an apology but a sign of respect, and deep inside, a wordless gratitude for the experience Sekino forced out of him tonight.
When he looks up again, Sekino offers a weary nod, a simple acknowledgment between fighters who have finally understood each other.
