The article goes live not because it is complete, but because the clock demands it.
Aki knows that better than anyone. What she published was enough to et the deadline, but it is still surface-level. It’s just the shape of the story, not its weight.
To get that, she has to go back to the gym.
She pushes her chair in and begins clearing her desk with renewed energy, stacking notes, sliding her recorder into her bag, already half a step ahead of herself.
The newsroom noise feels lighter now, less oppressive, as if her work has found its direction.
"I’m heading out," she calls toward the editor’s desk, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "To Nakahara Gym."
Her section leader barely looks up from his screen. "Yeah. Take care."
Aki is smiling as she reaches the aisle, already picturing the gym; old mats, familiar faces, the sll of sweat and disinfectant.
But the leader’s voice cuts through again. "Oh. Aki."
She stops, turning back.
"Get everything you can on Takeda’s Aqualis contract," he says. "Details. Duration. Clauses. Numbers if possible."
Her smile falters. "That stuff’s confidential," she protests. "You know that. They’re not going to..."
"I don’t care," he cuts in, voice level. "Dig. As deep as you can. That’s why we’re sending you. They trust you. And that’s exactly why you’re the one who can get it."
Aki turns back fully now. "That trust isn’t sothing you just use and break," she says, frowning. "If I cross that line, I don’t get it back."
He finally looks up at her. Shrugs. "You’re a journalist. What did you think the job was?"
She exhales through her nose, cheeks puffing slightly as she pouts, already knowing how this ends.
"You’re the worst," she mutters. "You know that?"
He just waves her off. "That’s journalism."
The energy drains out of her as quickly as it ca. Aki turns back toward the exit, shoulders slumping just a little, the weight of expectation settling in where excitent had been.
Down the stairwell, the building noise fades into echoing steps. By the ti she reaches the lobby, her expression has dulled into sothing tired but focused.
Out of habit, she reaches for her phone, thumb hovering over Reika’s na. It’s a familiar reflex, a comfortable one.
The thought of the Lexus, of an easy ride and shared chatter, tugs at her for a second. But then she hesitates.
She thinks of Reika, of the tension that’s settled between her and Ryoma lately. Her thumb hovers, then stills. After a mont, she lowers the phone without making the call.
Outside, the cold January air bites at her cheeks as she raises a hand for a taxi instead. The door shuts behind her with a soft thud, sealing off the newsroom, the deadlines, the questions she knows she’ll have to ask.
***
By the ti Aki reaches Nakahara Boxing Gym, it’s a little past two in the afternoon.
She pushes the door open with her usual brightness. "Good afternoon, everyone."
For a split second, every head turns. The younger boxers glance her way, curiosity flickering across their faces, but they quickly refocus, back into rhythm.
The professionals don’t look away so easily. A few trainers narrow their eyes. Soone frowns outright. The air tightens, subtle but unmistakable.
Aki slows, confusion pricking at her cheerfulness. This is strange because they’ve never treated her like this before.
Before she can say anything else, Coach Nakahara approaches her. He doesn’t greet her, doesn’t smile. He walks past her toward the door instead, pushes it open, and scans the street outside with a quick, practiced look.
Only then does he turn back. "You’re here by yourself?" he asks.
Aki blinks, then nods. "Yeah."
Nakahara exhales, tension slipping from his shoulders. "Good."
He turns and walks back into the gym. "Next ti you co, give a call first," he adds over his shoulder. "I need to know whether Reika is coming with you or not."
Aki hurries after him. "Is Reika... not welco anymore?"
"That’s not what I said," Nakahara replies calmly. "If she’s around, we just need to be careful. There are things we don’t talk about in front of her."
Aki nods, not fully understanding, but she can guess at the shape of it. Sponsors, politics, lines that shouldn’t blur.
Her eyes drift around the gym as they walk.
Okabe isn’t here. Neither is Ryohei.
Ryoma is across the floor, holding pads for one of the younger boxers, posture relaxed, voice steady as he corrects footwork.
When Aki looks back, Nakahara has already stopped near the edge of the ring, hands resting on the ropes.
"I’ve got a little ti," he says. "If there’s sothing you want to ask, ask it now. I’ll be heading out soon."
Aki hesitates, and looks at Ryoma again.
Her editor’s voice echoes in her head; secure all details about Ryoma’s Aqualis contract, no matter what. But then she exhales and lets the thought go. Instead, she shifts gears.
"I heard about Shimamura Suzuki," she says. "He’s challenging Yanagimoto for the title."
Nakahara’s tone stays even. "Shimamura’s a Katsushika Rinkai fighter now. That has nothing to do with ."
Aki tilts her head, pressing gently. "Still... you’re not hoping he wins?"
"It’s not my business," Nakahara says again, firr this ti.
"But if he wins it," Aki continues, teasing just enough to keep it light, "that could open a door for Ryoma, right? A title fight might be easier to secure. A forr athlete. And unlike the current champion..." She pauses. "I don’t think Shimamura would run from you. Not with your history."
Nakahara’s eyes turn sharp, his face looks darker now.
Yes, if Shimamura wins, then securing a fight with him would undoubtedly be easier. After all, Shimamura has never hidden his urge to fight Ryoma.
But for so reason, Nakahara does not want Ryoma to fight Shimamura. No matter what.
That reason stays buried, unspoken. And because of that, he chooses to avoid the subject altogether.
"I think that’s all for today," he says, already turning away. "I’m leaving."
"Eeeeh..."
"Sorry," he adds without stopping. "I’ve been busy lately. We can talk again. Promise."
"Wait, there’s one more thing," Aki says quickly. "About the OPBF title fight."
That makes Nakahara stop.
She continues, careful now. "McConnell versus Sagawa. You said before the champion had given his word to accept Ryoma’s challenge after this. But what if Sagawa wins?"
Nakahara answers without hesitation. "Then we challenge Sagawa."
Aki nods, and then presses. "You might not know this, but Sagawa’s managent has close ties with Tachibana Gym. They’re even holding a joint camp right now, Sagawa and Yanagimoto."
A brief silence follows, Nakahara’s gaze drifting sowhere past her shoulder, weighing things so far ahead, further than what Aki’s trying to talk about.
"That’s reasonable," Nakahara says at last. "Yanagimoto’s style resembles McConnell’s. A switch-hitter like that is rare. It’s good preparation."
"That’s not what I an," Aki says, choosing her words. "What if Sagawa wins... and then he does what Tachibana Gym has always done to you?"
She looks at him directly. "Avoiding Ryoma."
Nakahara doesn’t respond. His gaze drifts instead toward the ring, where Ryoma is still working with the younger fighters, unaware of the invisible lines being drawn around his future.
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