Meanwhile, in a quieter corner of Kanagawa, inside the worn yet sturdy hall of Okada Kogen Boxing Gym, preparation continues without the slightest trace of doubt.
The building carries no mountain retreat prestige, no overseas isolation camp glamour. But for Rikiya Miyamoto, this place is more than enough.
The sound of his gloves crashing against a sparring partner's headgear echoes sharply, forming a steady, threatening rhythm. Each combination lands with deliberate weight. Since losing his title months ago, something in his expression has hardened.
Around the ring, several neighboring gyms have sent their best fighters to help. They wait patiently outside the ropes, rotating in and out. Support here may not look luxurious. But it is loyal, immediate, and grounded in respect.
A small cluster of journalists stands near the corner, restless. Camera lenses follow every bead of sweat rolling down Rikiya's temple, every flash of intensity in his narrowed eyes.
