Hiroshi peeks toward the entrance just as Ryoma walking slowly on the street. Only once the kid disappears around the corner does Hiroshi exhale and head straight for the office.
Nakahara is still seated behind the desk, pretending to read the same page of the newspaper he's been on since morning.
"…Coach," Hiroshi begins carefully.
"Save it," Nakahara mutters without looking up. "I already know that face."
Hiroshi steps closer. "You heard what Ryoma said."
"I did."
"And you just brushed him off."
"I just told him to rest," Nakahara snaps. "He's three days out from a war. You want him to cough blood in the ring next week?"
"That's not what I'm saying." Hiroshi presses, voice tight but respectful. "But you promised him. We promised him a title shot within a year."
Nakahara sets the newspaper down, expression suddenly older than usual.
