Hanazawa looks almost fresh again at a glance. His face has been wiped clean, skin slick with Vaseline, catching the light as if the damage has been erased.
The swelling has been pressed down, the small cuts sealed, the bruises muted beneath careful hands. From the outside, he looks restored. But no one knows the truth better than he does.
Beneath that polished surface, everything aches. His body is heavy, hollowed out, every breath reminding him how deep the damage runs. Strength hasn't returned; it's only been masked.
The bell rings.
Ding!
Round Four.
Aramaki claims the center immediately, feet set, posture calm. Hanazawa chooses the long way around, circling the perimeter with no urgency, casual and careful.
He keeps his distance measured: not too close to the ropes, not close enough for Aramaki to work.
"Aramaki's still patient," one commentator notes. "No rush, no chase."
"The question is…" another one adds, "how Hanazawa plans to survive this round."
