Aramaki immediately walks straight toward the neutral corner without wasting a second. Since the opening bell, he has kept his mind exactly the same; think less, conserve the mind.
The habit does more than preserve his endurance. It keeps his thoughts grounded in reality, never wandering toward victory, defeat, pressure, or any emotion that serves no purpose, fixed only on what needs to be done.
"Corner… regulate my breathing."
"Go to the corner, and regulate my breathing."
Behind him, Rikiya reminds sitting on the canvas, one glove resting against the mat as he steadies his breathing. His head still rings, the world around him drifting slightly out of focus, every muscle in his body throbbing from the punishment.
Meanwhile, the referee's count reaches him through the ringing, the words muffled beneath the crowd's deafening roar.
"Three…"
"Four…"
