In the heart of that unending torture, something inside Ryohei shifts. The pain that had been piercing every nerve begins to recede. Not because it is gone, but because he forces his mind to lock it away.
He draws a shallow breath behind his tight guard, anchoring his concentration on a single point.
One counter...
I just need that one perfect counter...
The world around him narrows. The roar of the Osaka crowd and the thick scent of sweat melt into a sharp tunnel vision.
In the blue corner, Sera slams the canvas, signaling the final ten seconds.
"Hold on, Ryohei! Tighten your guard!"
But to Ryohei, Sera's plea and the arena's thunder are nothing but a muffled, distant noise. He sees only one thing: the slight tilt of Umemoto's shoulder as the champion loads his next power shot.
Ryohei sees the timing, and sends a compact right hook.
