Jade settles, then slips back into southpaw as if nothing happened. The opening exchange ends without a clean shot, but the ssage lands all the sa. This isn’t going to be simple.
The effect shows imdiately. Ryoma has to adjust again, cutting off his pendulum just to angle left. He restarts the sway, but the rhythm isn’t there. It’s careful now, too asured.
He steps in and snaps a textbook jab.
Dug.
Jade blocks it easily, and then widens his lead foot by a fraction.
Ryoma sees it and retreats at once. The timing breaks and his pendulum collapse into stillness.
Jade shifts his rear foot a bit forward, and twitches his left shoulder, just slightly. At once, Ryoma resets and lifts his guard higher, breath sharp in his chest, pulse louder than the crowd.
All of it from just one small adjustnt, and it’s already enough to break his rhythm.
A murmur rolls through the crowd, low and uncertain. Not disappointnt, not excitent, but sothing closer to recalibration. People lean forward in their seats. A few heads tilt. This isn’t what they were promised.
"So that’s him?"
"Thought he’d fight better than this."
In the blue corner, Sera’s jaw tightens. His eyes never leave Ryoma’s feet.
"...His pendulum’s off," he murmurs. "Badly."
Beside him, Nakahara only responds with a short thoughtful sound of "Hm..."
No nod, no shake of the head.
Back at ringside, the comntators catch it too. "Takeda usually establishes that sway early," one says, tone shifting. "But we’re not seeing it yet."
"That," the second comntator says, "is the mark of a champion. You don’t need volu. You just need to ask the right questions."
Ryoma’s eyes keep moving, too much. They travel up and down Jade’s fra, tracking the stance, the gloves, reacting even to the smallest twitch in Jade’s neck or shoulders.
He’s reading everything, but reading it too early, too cautiously.
He tries to stay on the left, circling toward the outside of Jade’s right hand. It’s the correct angle. It’s what he’s trained to do. But in focusing on the angle, he forgets the rhythm that usually carries him here.
His own pendulum fades. Without realizing it, he’s giving ground.
And the ropes draw closer.
>
>
Jade steps in, still economical, still patient. He leads with the right. Two clean jabs snap out first, textbook and straight, thudding into Ryoma’s guard.
Dug. Dug.
Then the lead hook follows, compact and sharp, slipping around the elbows and digging under the armpit.
Thud!
The shot lands clean, drawing a brief eruption from the crowd.
Ryoma reacts on instinct, throwing a short right hook from below, a strange diagonal punch that rises awkwardly through the space Jade just vacated.
Jade leans back half a step. The glove slices through air. But that miss buys Ryoma a breath of space, just enough.
"That body hook matters," one comntator says. "Even blocked shots don’t stop a champion from finding space like that."
"And Takeda felt it," the other adds. "You can see the reaction. He’s not settling in yet."
The pendulum flickers back to life. Ryoma lets it sway for a beat, and tries to reassert control through his left hand.
He steps in and snaps a jab.
Dug.
It lands on the glove. Nothing more.
And Jade answers imdiately. He drags his right foot back as he swings a left hook, the movent small but decisive.
Ryoma raises his guard high by instinct, but the hook dips instead, slamming into the body.
Thud!
Before Ryoma can reset, Jade follows with a right cross. Ryoma brings both gloves up, catching it cleanly on the guard.
Bugh!
Even blocked, the force drives him backward. His back hits the ropes.
Ryoma registers the details even as he absorbs the pressure. That cross ca from orthodox, but Jade actually dragged the right foot forward to throw it.
So now, by the ti Ryoma blinks, Jade is already southpaw once more.
The space around him shrinks, too narrow to step out cleanly. Instinct takes over, and Ryoma shifts into the Philly Shell, turning his shoulder in, left tight on his ribs, right hand tight across his chest.
"Takeda’s backing up," one comntator notes. "He’s getting walked straight to the ropes."
Ryoma gives Jade less to hit and prepares to absorb what cos.
Jade doesn’t rush. He works from mid-range, close enough to make every punch matter, far enough to stay safe.
"And this is where the champion starts to pour it on," the other replies.
The punches co in asured pairs and threes, heavy but controlled.
Dug. Dug.
Dug. Dug. Dug.
Ryoma tightens his left arm, letting shots glance off forearm and upper arm. He rolls his shoulder into one punch, tilts his head back from another, ducks under a third.
After slipping another two punches, Ryoma’s right glove flicks up just in ti to parry sothing headed for his chin.
"Look at that defense," the first says. "He’s taking everything on the arms and shoulders."
"Philly Shell," the second adds. "It’s buying him ti, but it’s costing him offense."
"Nothing clean yet," the first comntator says, raising his voice over the noise, "but listen to this crowd. They’re reacting to the pressure."
"That’s championship presence," the second agrees. "Even blocked shots are getting a response."
There’s no scoring blow. But Ryoma isn’t throwing anything either. Jade’s rhythm stays compact so far, disciplined, leaving no gaps.
Eventually, after too many punches without satisfaction, Jade steps a fraction closer, snapping a sharp right jab.
Ryoma leans back farther than before, spine brushing the ropes. He lets the punch shove into his shoulder, and finally a chance presents.
He fires his right hand from below, rising through the space Jade just occupied.
Jade catches it on his left glove.
Dp.
But Ryoma doesn’t stop. He swings the sa right again, wider this ti, lower. The punch slips past the guard and thuds into the ribs.
Thud!
"There it is," one comntator says. "Takeda finally fires back."
"And he makes it count," the other adds. "That one got through."
Ryoma steps forward imdiately, posture suggesting a clinch.
Jade braces for it.
Instead, Ryoma shoves him away, creating just enough room to move. He stays in the Philly Shell as he slides left, lead hand hanging low, right tucked under his chin.
The pendulum is gone now. The Soviet rhythm has disappeared, replaced by a lazy sway of the torso as Ryoma walks, reclaiming space inch by inch.
"That shove buys him air," one comntator says. "He needed that reset."
"And now it slows down again," the other adds. "This is the kind of suspense both n are comfortable with."
Jade tries to follow, but the flickers co alive at once.
Wsht! Wsht!
They cut through the air, fast and sharp. Nothing lands as Jade remains just outside the edge of the range.
But Ryoma throws them anyway, not to score, just to make the space stay his.
"That’s a change," one comntator notes. "He’s gone to the flicker now, just to manage distance."
"The question is whether that’s him taking control," the other replies, "or just buying ti to keep the champion off him."
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