The irony is that even without Aki telling him anything, Ryoma's focus has already begun to drift from his next title fight.
The training camp sits on the quieter edge of Shonan, past the crowded surf spots and souvenir-lined streets. The lodge they rent is plain; two floors of faded wood facing the sea, salt stains marking the railings.
Before sunrise, Hiroshi's knock travels down the narrow hallway with efficient authority.
"Up."
"Hiroshi…" Ryohei whines with a groan, still thick with sleep, "even champions require human rights."
"Champions require conditioning," Hiroshi replies evenly.
Another door slides open. "If he's a champion, I'm a movie star," Okabe mutters as he steps into the hallway. "And movie stars don't run before sunrise either."
Aramaki walks past them, pulling his hoodie over his head. Kenta emerges last, already stretching his shoulders as if the conversation is background noise.
Satoru appears behind him, posture straight, eyes alert despite the hour.
