The arena erupts, the roar of shock and excitement mixing with disbelief, the intensity spiking as everyone realizes the fight has suddenly shifted.
Rikiya lies flat on his back, eyes open to the ceiling lights that blur and spin above him. The world tilts unnaturally, the ropes bending like waves at the edge of his vision. A violent ringing fills his ears, drowning out the arena into a distant hum.
Pain blooms at the base of his jaw, sharp and electric, radiating up toward his temple and down his neck. It feels as if something inside his skull has shifted half a second too late.
A few steps away, Aramaki stands frozen. His face is a mess of disbelief, mouth slightly open, breath coming fast and uneven. His heart pounds so loudly he can almost hear it over the crowd.
That punch… it actually landed. He hadn't thrown it with certainty. It was a gamble, a last roll of the dice, an effort out of desperation. And now the former champion is on the canvas.
