Mendosa may not have the answer yet, but letting his fighter walk back out there with doubt hanging over him isn't an option.
He glances briefly toward the red corner, eyes narrowing as if trying to catch something he missed earlier, then shifts closer and crouches in, lowering his voice.
"Look," he says, tone firm but controlled. "You don't have to solve everything he's doing in there. Don't get stuck trying to read him. Make him read you."
Villanueva exhales lightly through his nose, but there's no real agreement in his expression. "He won't need that much effort to read me. And you know that. If this keeps going, I'll end up following his rhythm anyway. After all, I'm already falling behind."
Mendosa doesn't respond immediately. His face stays serious, more so than before, like he's weighing something he doesn't particularly want to say.
