The day after the JBC announcent, Kirizu Gym sounds wrong, too quiet, like the air’s waiting for bad news to start talking first.
In the office, Daigo Kirizu sits behind his desk, phone pressed to his ear. Serrano’s na flashes on the screen again. But there’s still no answer.
Across from him, Shigemori slouches in the sofa, rubbing his temples. "I dropped by his place this morning. His mom says she hasn’t seen him in a week. Didn’t even look worried. Big house, big money, zero clue where her son sleeps."
Kirizu exhales through his nose. "So... sa as always."
Shigemori nods. "Pretty much. He barely goes ho even when he’s winning. But this ti’s different. He took that loss bad. Hasn’t touched a gym bag since. And now the JBC nas him replacent finalist? That’s a circus."
Kirizu leans back, chair creaking in protest. "A finalist who forfeits, and a runner-up who disappears. Perfect. Just perfect."
Before Shigemori can reply, the door opens. Renji Kuroiwa steps in, crisp black suit, title belt slung over one shoulder, eyes like a man who never learned how to blink.
The air seems to tighten around him, as if the room itself knows who he is.
"We need to talk," he says, voice like a warning.
Kirizu doesn’t hide his irritation. "Not a good ti, Renji."
"What about my fight with Ryoma Takeda?" Renji asks, shutting the door.
Kirizu looks up.
Renji lays his championship belt on the desk like a challenge. "You told , if Ryoma beat Serrano, you’d let have him before I go overseas."
"I rember," Kirizu says calmly.
"Well, he beat Serrano," Renji continues. "And now he’s moving up to Lightweight. No more excuses. I want that fight. I don’t care what people think, put my belt on the line if that’s what it takes to bring him in."
Shigemori glances at him. "Renji, Serrano’s missing..."
Renji cuts him off. "Then stop chasing ghosts. You’ve got a champion standing here."
Kirizu’s tone stays even. "You’re the Japan Lightweight Champion. You should be looking past dostic fights. We’re talking about sending you overseas. You’re ready."
"I’ll go later," Renji says, leaning forward, "after I beat Ryoma Takeda."
"Why?" Kirizu’s jaw tightens. "Why it has to be him?"
Renji’s voice sharpens. "Because every ti my na’s ntioned, his follows. One sparring match, and people talk like he already passed . I’m the champion. It’s ti they rember that."
The silence that follows carries its own weight. Kirizu feels it too, feels the shift in the boxing world, feels how Ryoma’s rise made everyone forget the man already holding the belt.
But still...
"That’s not a reason," Kirizu says quietly. "That’s pride."
"Damn right it is," Renji snaps. "I worked years for this title. He wins a rookie block and he’s the story? No. I’ll put him down before I go to the world stage. Otherwise, I’ll hear his na forever."
Shigemori sighs. "You’re letting the noise get to you."
Renji shoots him a look. "You ever been compared to a guy who hasn’t even won a belt?"
There’s no answers for that. Hell, Shigemori has never won a belt for himself.
Kirizu exhales. "Even if I wanted to make that match, it’s not simple. He’s still Class B. JBC hasn’t confird his A-license. I can’t pit my champion against soone unranked."
Renji scoffs. "You could if you wanted to. You just don’t want him getting the spotlight."
Kirizu’s gaze hardens. "I’m not risking my champion’s na on a fight that doesn’t exist on paper."
Renji laughs, short and bitter. "You an you’re scared."
Kirizu’s eyes narrow. "Watch your mouth."
"No, say it." Renji presses, stepping closer. "You hide behind rules and timing, but it’s not that, is it? You’re afraid."
Sothing in Kirizu’s face finally cracks. His voice finally bursts out like a whip.
"Damn right I’m afraid!"
The words hit like a punch. Even Shigemori flinches.
Kirizu slams his palm on the desk and stands. "I’m afraid because I know what’ll happen if you fight him. I know he’ll beat you."
The room freezes. Renji stares at him, stunned, the color draining from his face. His throat works before the words finally co out, low and shaking.
"Are you kidding ?"
Kirizu says nothing.
Renji laughs once, short and hollow. "I know he’s good. That’s why I want the fight. I want to test myself before going to the world stage. But you..." he jabs a finger at Kirizu, "You’re saying I don’t even stand a chance against a nineteen-year-old kid? Is that what you think of now?"
Kirizu’s voice drops. "No. That’s how highly I think of him."
Renji’s glare flickers. "Hell, Serrano almost beat him in the Final!"
Kirizu just exhales, the anger draining out. "Renji, you know this ga. The damn kid fought that whole tournant below his real weight. You, of all people, understand what that ans. When a boxer finally fights at his natural weight, when his body and power align, you know what that unlocks."
Renji doesn’t reply, but the fire in his eyes wavers.
Kirizu brings his face closer. "You rember that spar between you two, right after he fought Kazuya. No conditioning, no camp, still half-drained. And he almost put you down."
The words hang, heavy and unshakable.
Kirizu continues, softer now but cutting deeper. "Now look at him. After the Rookie Tournant, after what he’s learned, after how fast he’s growing. Once he’s fully conditioned for Lightweight, that fight isn’t fifty-fifty anymore. The risk of you losing is too damn high. And once that happens, you’ll never get your spotlight back."
Renji’s lips part, but no words co. His chest rises and falls slowly. He wants to argue, but every part of him knows Kirizu isn’t wrong.
Kirizu finishes quietly. "That’s why I won’t make that fight."
"So that’s it," Renji mutters. "You’re running from him."
Kirizu ets his eyes, calm but tired. "As a businessman, I have to calculate risk. There’s nothing to gain, and everything to lose."
Then suddenly, from the doorway...
"Shigemori-san!"
They all turn, and find Leonardo Serrano stands there, frad by the open door. His usual arrogance is gone, just appearing with a plain hoodie and a tired face. He looks younger like this, stripped of his bravado.
Kirizu blinks. "Serrano. We’ve been looking for you."
"I’m sorry," Serrano says, stepping in. "For disappearing. For not coming back after the fight."
Shigemori rises, relief flickering across his face. "Where the hell were you? Your parents said they hadn’t seen you." He claps Serrano lightly on the shoulder. "Forget it. You’re here now. That’s what matters."
Serrano shakes his head. "No, it matters. I should’ve co sooner. I just... didn’t know how to face anyone after losing that fight."
Kirizu folds his arms. "You picked a good day to show up."
Serrano nods. "I wanted to ask for a rematch with Ryoma. Thought maybe if I beat him, I could fix how people see ."
Renji exhales sharply. "Join the line."
Serrano’s lips twitch in a humorless smile. "Yeah. But after what I just heard, I’m not sure I’d even want to."
Kirizu raises an eyebrow.
Serrano continues quietly. "I don’t want a rematch just to prove I can win. I want to earn it first. Train properly. I heard about the JBC’s decision. And I want to do it right this ti."
Shigemori studies him, then nods. "That’s more like it. The Serrano who listens might actually be dangerous."
"You serious?" Kirizu asks.
Serrano looks at him, his eyes brims with determination.
"Yes, sir!"
"Then show . Be here tomorrow morning. Seven sharp."
"I will."
"Good. And this ti, don’t make chase you down."
"You won’t have to."
The tension that filled the room shifts, quieter but cleaner sohow.
When Serrano leaves, Shigemori mutters, "Looks like we’ve finally got one of them back on track."
Kirizu exhales, glancing sharply at Renji. "Yeah. One of them."
Renji doesn’t say another word. He grabs his belt from the desk, turns, and walks out through the still-open door.
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