Confusion spreads through the arena like a cold draft.
Ryoma stands in the corner, unmoving. Both gloves hang low at his sides, completely open. His mouthpiece is gone, blood staining his teeth and lips, yet he doesn't seem to notice.
He just grins, wide, unbothered, completely wrong.
The face is different now. The eyes especially, they are too sharp, too awake. There's no pain in them, only hunger.
The crowd doesn't know how to react. Cheers falter into uneasy murmurs. Even the commentators hesitate, words dying before they reach their tongues.
But Jade feels it. Standing right in front of him, he's the only one who understands.
The air feels heavy, suffocating, like standing too close to something feral. This doesn't feel like facing a boxer anymore. It feels like standing before a beast that has decided to stop pretending.
In the blue corner, Nakahara forgets the towel completely. His concern now is on the mouthpiece. Ryoma's mouth is exposed. And his hands are too low.
