Early afternoon settles into Nakahara Boxing Gym with a different kind of energy than the morning sessions.
Ryoma hasn't left. He lingers near the far ring, sleeves rolled up despite the chill, his attention is fixed on Satoru.
"Slow it down," he says, voice steady. "Pendulum. You're bouncing again."
Satoru adjusts immediately, feet rocking forward and back, weight shifting more smoothly this time.
Ryoma circles him, eyes sharp, catching small things even Sera sometimes lets slide during busy sessions.
"Don't lift your heels so much," Ryoma adds. "You're telegraphing when you want to move. Stay closer to the floor."
It's become normal, in recent months, for Ryoma to be the one overseeing Satoru's progress. Nakahara hasn't said it outright, but the responsibility has quietly shifted.
Ryoma corrects, demonstrates with his shoulders, taps the floor with his shoe to mark angles. Satoru listens with a seriousness that goes beyond respect. He knows who he's learning from.
