The same night, at Nakahara Boxing Gym.
Nakahara slumps back in his chair, arms folded, staring at nothing. Sera sits on the sofa, elbows on his knees, hair still damp from sweat.
For a long moment, neither speaks, until Sera exhales softly.
"Hard to believe I used to sit in that locker room too, you know."
Nakahara looks over.
Sera's smile is thin, almost sheepish. "Feels like another life. You were always yelling at me to tighten my guard, keep my back foot planted. I really thought… I'd get somewhere."
Nakahara snorts. "You would have. If you'd stayed."
Sera chuckles. "If my parents had let me stay."
The silence returns, feels heavy and familiar. Nakahara reaches for his mug though he knows it's empty.
"I had high hopes for you," he murmurs. "You had talent. Real talent. You read rhythm better than half the pros I trained."
Sera looks down at his hands. "And now you put that same hope in the kid, huh?"
Nakahara doesn't answer immediately.
