The tension settles after the greetings. Ramos is still casual, still loose, still grinning like he wandered into the wrong building, but everyone else in the gym feels the shift.
At one corner, Mita Shiki stands with his arms folded. Sekino warms up under his supervision, slipping and rolling with quiet sharpness, flicker jabs darting out like whispers of light, shoulders weaving in that familiar Philly Shell rhythm.
Meanwhile, Noguchi warms up in the ring, wrapped gloves on, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. His hands float in that odd jutting stance of his, part kickboxing, part brawler, fully unconventional. Some of the local fighters stare, confused, unsure if they're supposed to know him.
A journalist finally walks over. "Noguchi-san… forgive me, but I remember hearing you retired from boxing?"
Noguchi nods casually. "I did. Moving to MMA now."
"MMA? Is that so? Sorry, but I don't think I've heard of any of your matches yet."
