Fortunately, Kenta stays disciplined in his form, putting his right guard protecting the side of his head when bending to the left for that triple hooks.
Liam’s sharp hook only hits the glove, but the guard is pinned to his head. The collision still shakes Kenta’s skull.
And he receives this in a terrible position with a terrible balance.
Kenta’s left leg shudders. He staggers sideways.
Liam is already shifting his stance, loading up to drive in a chopping right before Kenta can fall. Yet even in that broken position, Kenta forces up a tight double guard.
BAM!
Liam’s glove crashes into his forearms with brutal force, the impact blasting Kenta backward and slamming him into the canvas.
The referee steps in at once, signaling the knockdown.
"Down!"
The arena erupts, roars tearing through the stands as the mont detonates.
"Oh my... what an exchange!" a comntator shouts. "That was elite offense eting elite defense!"
"But even blocking everything," the other cuts in, "Moriyama couldn’t fight back. That was raw power. Liam Kuroda put him on the canvas through sheer force alone."
The crowd doesn’t settle as Liam walks toward a neutral corner. He keeps his eyes on Kenta, sharp and focused, acknowledging the fact that Kenta was able to respond even in that tight mont.
And yet, his confidence only grows.
He can feel it; his timing sharper, his reads cleaner. He’s getting better as the fight goes on. And the one drawing that out of him is Kenta himself. The sa fighter Masahiro once dismissed as washed up.
When Liam reaches the corner and turns back, the decision is already made. He knows that knockdown won’t end it. Kenta will get up.
He’s grown great respect for his toughness. And because of that, Liam chooses sothing else; to repay that toughness with everything he has left.
In the blue corner, Nakahara’s face drains of color.
"Kenta!"
A hand lifts at once.
"I’m fine..." Kenta mutters. "I’m not done yet."
The referee saw it clearly. The punch was blocked. The knockdown ca from bad balance, not damage. Still, the count continues.
"Three!"
"Four!"
In the stands, Kenta’s family is frozen in place. His mother clasps her hands to her chest, eyes shut in prayer.
Moriyama stands beside her, silent, unmoving. It’s bad, but at least now, he knows what his son can actually do.
Then a voice cuts through the noise.
"Kenta nii-saan! Get up!"
It’s Izumi. After holding it in all round, his shout finally rings out; clear, desperate, unmistakable.
Out of thousands, he’s the only one voicing his support. His voice is the only thing that reaches the ring.
Kenta had planned to stay down, to use the count to breathe.
But he hears it again.
"Ganbatte, Kenta nii-saan! Don’t give up yet!"
Sothing shifts. A few people pick it up. Then more. Scattered voices join in, calling him to get up.
***
Kenta steadies his breathing, forcing his mind to calm. He knows his family is here. Not just Izumi and his mom. His father too.
He left ho with a promise to succeed with his boxing. And he already walked out that door. So he can’t show weakness now.
He pushes himself up, and the count stops at seven.
The referee grips Kenta’s glove. "You still okay, right?"
"Yeah!" Kenta nods.
"Alright." The ref steps aside and slices the air with his hand. "Box!"
In the red corner, Masahiro’s lips curl with quiet arrogance. To him, getting up early isn’t courage. It’s naivety.
He calls out sharply.
"Liam!"
Liam turns, and their eyes et. Masahiro points his thumb down: a signal to end it.
Liam nods once, and closes the distance imdiately.
In the blue corner, Nakahara shouts again, telling Kenta to tighten his guard. But Kenta doesn’t follow the instruction.
He steadies his breathing instead, slow and deep. His shoulders loosen. His gloves drop just enough as he lets the subtle pendulum return.
He isn’t hurt. He knows it.
He went down because his balance failed, not because his body broke. And now he knows sothing else for certain: round five isn’t his limit anymore.
His body can fight longer than this.
"No more softness."
"No more weakness."
Liam steps into range and pours it on, peppering Kenta with relentless punches.
Kenta blocks, slips, tries to step out and rebuild montum. But Liam gives him nothing, no space, no breath.
Even so, Kenta doesn’t panic. He keeps moving, rolling his shoulders, catching what he can, enduring what gets through.
Bug! Bug!
Dug. Dug. Dug. Thud!
And every ti he finds even a sliver of space, he tries to rebuild the pendulum.
At first it’s barely there; a subtle shift of the lead foot, small but real. He blocks, and then throws sothing along with the sway, ignoring the thudding shot that digs into his ribs.
"Liam drives a body shot!"
"But Kenta’s jab lands anyway."
"He forced a dual exchange, only to land a jab."
It’s a bad trade. But Kenta takes it anyway, using the little space he just created.
His shoulders and gloves sway again. The movent looks lazy, almost loose, but his eyes harden.
"No more softness. No more weakness."
He holds his ground and trades, even when the odds are against him. He lands a few clean punches, but Liam’s shots are heavier, forcing him backward.
Still, Kenta grits his teeth.
"No more softness..."
He’s driven to the ropes. And then a crushing shot to the side shoves him sideways despite his guard.
"He’s cornered," one comntator beams. "He’s tried to stay in the fight. But he’s trapped in the corner now."
Liam’s eyes sharpen. He slls blood.
Yet Kenta still tries keeping him off, widening the pendulum. He slides forward with three chained lefts; jab, jab, lead hook.
Dug. Dug. Thud!
The last one lands, but Liam barely reacts. He just shakes his head.
"I’ve seen enough of that."
A comntator catches it again. "When a fighter stops respecting the offense, that’s dominance."
"Liam Kuroda is running this fight," says the other one.
Kenta changes the tempo and tries again. Liam reads it anyway, blocks everything, and drives a straight right at the end of the sequence.
BAM!!!
It slams into Kenta’s guard, kills the rhythm, and knocks him into the corner post.
"It’s blocked," a comntator says. "But the ssage has delivered nonetheless."
Still, Kenta doesn’t run, no thinking about finding an escape route. Even trapped, he rebuilds the sway. Not once does he think about escaping the corner.
"And Moriyama chooses to fight him head-on. He’s standing his ground, inviting a slugfest."
He coils his rear foot. Slides forward, much deeper this ti, pressing into Liam’s chest space. Then he unleashes a five-punch flurry: a jab, followed by two body hooks from each side.
Dug.
Dug. Dug. Dug. Dug.
None land clean as Liam reads all of it.
"You can’t fool with this rhythm anymore."
Liam fires back with a short left hook. Yet it only cuts air as Kenta is already sliding back.
Kenta’s back brushes the corner post, can’t get away too far.
But Liam still sees the forward sway in Kenta’s shoulders and gloves. The pendulum is coming forward now, so he clenches his fist to ti it with a counter.
"You fought well. But this is the end."
He steps in, body lunging, ready to throw a heavy cross.
But then...
His breath catches.
"A trap?"
Kenta doesn’t throw anything. He only sways his gloves forward. His lead foot slides just half a step. His rear foot stays planted, coiled tight.
The shift is too subtle unlike all he’s shown so far in this round. The transition is deceptively smooth that Liam reads it too deep, and let himself pulled in.
"Shit..."
He cancels the cross and pulls back. But it’s too late.
Kenta drives in the right; fast, smooth, decisive. For a split second, the madness resurfaces. Pure instinct takes over. Every muscle fires at once, screaming to move.
The coil in his rear foot snaps. Legs, hips, spine, shoulder, each twitching in short violent bursts that the punch detonates out of him.
Liam tries to close his guard. But Kenta’s glove slips straight through the middle...
Dhuack!
...smashing into Liam’s nose. His head jerks back hard as red spurts out of his nostrils after the impact.
"OH MY GOD!"
"A SAVAGE COUNTER!"
Liam’s eyes stay open, fully conscious. He sees everything, and that makes it worse.
Rage floods his face, but his body is a half-step behind his will. His balance is gone before he understands it.
His legs wobble.
Then he crashes to the canvas.
Down!
"WHAT A TURNAROUND!"
"ONE COUNTER JUST FLIPPED THE ENTIRE FIGHT!"
Yet anger explodes through him. Liam scrambles up imdiately, forcing himself upright before his body has ti to catch up.
"Oh, look... He’s up! Way too fast!"
"That’s pure adrenaline... he shouldn’t be rushing this!"
The referee steps between them, counting starts anyway.
"One!"
"Two!"
But Liam already throws his left like a piston—once, twice—but it’s ugly.
"He’s swinging already... but his legs aren’t even under him!"
"This is pure will overpowering the body!"
His blood hasn’t settled yet. His neck hasn’t reset. His inner ear is still spinning, feeding his brain bad signals.
His left leg bends, trembling. Then the right follows.
The world tilts. His head snaps sideways, not from a punch, but from the shock finally arriving where adrenaline had been holding it back.
Less than three seconds after standing, Liam collapses again.
"Oh no... he’s down again!"
"That’s not from a punch... his body just shut him down!"
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