Before Kenta can find the words, the hall erupts. The shift is immediate, violent, pulling every eye back to the ring.
Satoru is moving forward with a kind of intensity that wasn't there before, chasing rather than waiting, cutting space instead of measuring it.
The slow, swaying rhythm he had carried through the earlier rounds is gone, abandoned against an opponent who refuses to stay still long enough for it to matter. There's no more patience in his steps now, no hint of setting traps. He's forcing the fight into existence.
Takasugi tries to halt him the same way he has all night, snapping a jab into the midsection to stop the advance.
It lands.
Thud!
But Satoru doesn't react to it. He drives through it, shoulder turning as a heavy right cross follows, thrown with full commitment rather than calculation.
Takasugi moves to step away, like he always does. But this time there's no space waiting for him.
