A few days after returning home, Ryoma shows up at the gym. Not early, at least not by his own standards, but early enough that the heaters are still running and the place is already alive with movement and noise.
Heavy bags sway in uneven rhythms, jump ropes snap sharply against the cold floor, the familiar smell of sweat and canvas settling into the air as bodies warm up.
Both his hands are still wrapped, thick white bandages stark against his sleeves. The moment he steps inside, heads turn anyway.
Okabe is the first to spot him. He grins immediately. "Look who decided to grace us," he calls out. "The champion finally remembers where he trains."
Ryohei glances over from the ring and snorts. "Careful, Okabe. He might start charging appearance fees now."
Ryoma raises his bandaged hands in mock surrender. "Relax. I'm still affordable."
