When the final bell rings, Satoru lowers his gloves, breathing heavily but still upright. Sweat runs down his temples, yet his eyes remain bright, stubbornly alive despite the rounds he has endured.
Around the ring, the teasing dissolves into scattered applause, the tension easing into quiet acknowledgment of the work done.
Dr. Mizuno steps onto the apron without delay.
"Come, Hiroshi. We collect the data now."
Hiroshi nods and moves in. He removes Ryoma's gloves efficiently, while Mizuno carefully peels the adhesive patch from Ryoma's forearm. The sample is sealed inside a labeled container with precise, almost ceremonial care.
"Time stamp it," Mizuno says quietly.
Hiroshi checks the stopwatch and notes it down at once.
With practiced efficiency, Mizuno prepares a small lancet device. He cleans the edge of Ryoma's ear, then draws a minimal blood sample from the earlobe to measure lactate concentration.
