Chapter 1050 The Weight of Contentment

It doesn't take long for Fumiko and the ever-enthusiastic Kaori to make Kaede feel at home. Eventually, Ryoma leaves her in their company and returns to the group of men.

Only then do Nakahara and the others hurriedly return to their seats, resuming their study of the match footage as though they'd never stopped.

"Look at how he reacts whenever his opponent steps in. He's giving away too much ground. You understand, Okabe?"

"Then he needs to work on holding his position without getting drawn into an exchange. Pay attention to his lead hand, too. That's where the opening starts."

"Exactly. If you let him dictate the distance, you'll spend the whole fight reacting to him. You need to make him fight at your pace instead."

As Ryoma joins them, Hiroshi shifts over to make room for him. Ryoma briefly joins the discussion, glancing at the footage before his attention returns to Kaede in the distance.

Nakahara, Sera, and Murakami take turns analyzing the footage, occasionally offering Okabe pointers on how to handle his upcoming opponent.

Meanwhile, Aramaki, Hiroshi, and Kenta steal glances at Ryoma, noticing how different he seems tonight.

His expression is unusually serene, his gaze soft, as though he's finally content with the life he has now.

The change persists into the following morning's training session. Ryoma still gets up before dawn for roadwork, completes every physical conditioning routine under Hiroshi's supervision, and goes through all the technical and footwork drills Sera assigns him.

What changes is his mood. The oppressive aura is gone. So are the cold criticisms directed at the other athletes and the relentless demands that push them to train harder and keep breaking past their limits.

"Relax your shoulders, Kenta. You're moving like an old man."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one doing this drill for the tenth time!"

Ryoma grins, demonstrating the footwork again before stepping aside to let Kenta try. When Kenta nearly trips over his own feet, Okabe snorts from the next station, earning himself a sharp glare.

"What are you laughing at? Let's see you do better."

"Gladly."

Okabe takes his position, only for Ryoma to point at his feet.

"You're crossing them. Unless you're planning to tie yourself into a knot, try again."

Aramaki chuckles as Okabe shoots Ryoma an annoyed look and resets his stance. Even Kenta starts laughing, his earlier frustration forgotten.

"What's so funny?" Sera calls from across the gym.

"Nothing!" all three answer at once.

Ryoma simply smiles and resumes the drill, trading remarks with the others between repetitions.

For once, the gym feels less like a place where every mistake invites criticism and more like a place where they can push each other without dreading the next correction.

When Ryoma's change in mood only affects the atmosphere during training, there's no problem. The trouble begins when it carries over to his intensity, something that becomes apparent during his mittwork session.

Nakahara raises the mitts, and Ryoma immediately steps in with a sharp jab-cross combination, following with a left hook before pivoting out of range.

"Again."

Ryoma repeats the sequence, his punches snapping against the pads in quick succession. He shifts into another combination, mixing head and body shots before finishing with a crisp right hand.

"Faster."

This time, Ryoma accelerates, his feet gliding across the canvas as he strings his punches together.

The drills continue, combination after combination. His technique and rhythm remain razor-sharp.

The other athletes watch in fascination, captivated by the elegance of his posture, the clarity of his technique, and the tight precision of every movement.

But Nakahara, the man who holds the mitts for him day after day, feels the difference more acutely than anyone.

No matter how cleanly Ryoma executes each combination, something is missing. The dissatisfaction is evident in every punch he receives.

"Again. Put more into it."

Ryoma resets his stance and delivers the combination, his punches landing cleanly against the mitts.

"Harder! Don't just touch the pads!"

Another combination follows, this time with more force behind each punch. Nakahara barely gives him time to recover before calling for the next sequence.

"Faster! Keep your feet moving! Don't wait for me to tell you what comes next!"

Ryoma complies, shifting smoothly into another combination, but Nakahara's expression grows increasingly sour.

After several more exchanges, he abruptly lowers the mitts.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Are you even taking this seriously?"

His voice carries across the gym, drawing the attention of the other athletes.

"You're going through the motions like this is some damn game! You think clean technique alone is enough to win a world title fight?"

Nakahara steps closer, glaring at him. "If this is how you're going to fight Derrick Allen, then you might as well start preparing to lose that belt of yours!"

"Come on, Coach." Ryoma gives him a sheepish grin. "I'm trying."

"Then try harder!"

"Got it. Let's go again."

Ryoma settles back into his stance, his smile lingering as Nakahara raises the mitts once more.

"Show me some damn intent! Make me feel those punches!"

This time, Ryoma steps in with greater urgency, his jab snapping into the mitt before a sharp cross follows. He pivots, slips an imaginary counter, and fires a compact hook to the body pad before finishing with a straight right that makes Nakahara's arms jolt.

"Better! Don't slow down!"

The combinations come faster. Ryoma's footwork grows more assertive, his movements flowing seamlessly between attacks and defensive adjustments. Nakahara keeps pushing him, demanding more speed, more conviction, more of the champion who can overwhelm an opponent without wasting a single movement.

At last, Nakahara lowers the mitts, breathing heavily through his nose.

"There. That's more like it." He gives Ryoma a grudging look. "You really are a world champion when you bother to act like one."

Ryoma chuckles. "I'll take that as a compliment, Coach."

"Don't get smart with me. You're done for now. Go rest."

Ryoma turns away, letting out a half-hearted complaint.

"Man, that old man never lets me off easy."

Then he notices Kaede sitting on a bench not far from the entrance, her expression flat, as though she's been bored out of her mind.

Ryoma's face lights up instantly, and he makes his way over to her with a bright smile.

"Hey, how are things at the barbershop?"

"Busier than ever, from what I can see." Kaede lets out a small sigh. "And your mother still refuses to let me help."

"Well, we already have plenty of employees." Ryoma sits down beside her. "Mom and Kaori only go there to find something to do so they don't get bored at home. So you don't have to worry about finding work anymore, either."

Then he puts on an obnoxiously smug, childish grin. "Not to brag or anything, but I've got so much money now, I don't even know how to spend it all. Even if the world were really hit by a pandemic and my career came to an end, I'd still have more than enough savings to support everyone. I mean everyone."

Ryoma thinks he's reassuring Kaede about their future together. Unwittingly, however, his words only bring back the uncertainty that has been troubling her since yesterday.

This is already the second time he's talked about the possibility of his boxing career coming to an end. There's nothing inherently wrong with that way of thinking, especially considering the fortune he's amassed by now.

But Kaede has known Ryoma for far too long. She knows that money isn't the only thing driving his ambitions in boxing.

"You talk about ending your career so easily now," Kaede says coldly. "That's exactly what worries me. If you suddenly lose a fight, and that defeat becomes the beginning of a string of failures, will you end up blaming me for it?"

Ryoma's childish grin slowly fades. The brightness in his expression gradually gives way to silence as he takes in the seriousness of her words.