Festival Hall breathes differently tonight. The lights are brighter than Ryoma expects, harsher too. The ring sits at the center like a fixed point in a restless sea.
The cue comes, and his name rolls out through the speakers. Ryoma steps out from the tunnel, and the reaction he gets is nothing more than polite.
A ripple of applause spreads like a courtesy extended to a guest rather than a welcome offered to one of their own. A few claps, but many people simply watch, eyes assessing with judgment.
He walks the aisle steadily, robe brushing his calves, gloves hanging loose at his sides.
Most of the faces staring back at him only carry curiosity. Some of them know him only from a video that went viral back in 2015, a teenage prodigy moving too smoothly for his age.
Others remember his name from two months ago, when he fought Paulo Ramos. But none of them have ever seen him fight live.
