Chapter 799: A Variable He Didn’t Account For
Despite Serrano’s rebelliousness, he leaves the corner exactly as instructed after the bell. His guard is high enough to protect his chin, his shoulders remain loose, and his stance settles into a relaxed bladed position as he glides forward without urgency.
Across from him, Aramaki wastes no time claiming the center of the ring. His guard is tight and compact, elbows tucked close as he plants himself with the quiet confidence of a man who intends to fight on his own terms.
Serrano doesn’t challenge the position. Instead, he circles along the perimeter, taking long measured steps while slowly working his way around the ring.
"Interesting start already! Aramaki takes the center immediately, but Serrano isn’t giving him anything."
"Well, that’s not what most people expected from Serrano. There is no dancing now, no showmanship, no attempt to provoke."
"And neither from Aramaki. Usually, he would apply pressure from the start. But tonight, he secures the center and waits there behind tight guard."
"Perhaps the pressure of a title fight actually makes him even more careful."
The assessment sounds reasonable from the outside. But no, Aramaki isn’t being cautious, nervous, or afraid to engage. He’s just being truthful to Ryoma’s strategy.
Before the fight began, Ryoma gave him only one instruction: stay in the center, whatever it takes. And Aramaki is doing exactly that.
Serrano continues circling, changing directions occasionally and mixing in small shoulder feints in an attempt to draw a reaction.
But Aramaki doesn’t rush forward, doesn’t react to the champion’s movement around the perimeter, and doesn’t allow himself to be baited into unnecessary exchanges.
More than twenty seconds pass like that, with neither man willing to abandon his approach.
Eventually, Serrano is the first to make a meaningful move. He begins pumping textbook jabs from long range, taking proper advantage of the reach that Kirizume keeps reminding him about.
Dug.
Dug. Dug.
For now, Aramaki meets every jab with his guard while remaining almost completely stationary.
Dug.
Dug. Dug. Dug.
He doesn’t try to slip them, doesn’t attempt to counter, and doesn’t give Serrano any openings to work with.
The punches themselves carry little weight. Serrano is throwing them from the edge of his range while continuing to circle, never planting his feet long enough to drive his body behind them.
As a result, Aramaki’s task remains simple and manageable, allowing him to hold position comfortably.
"Serrano’s finally getting busy."
"And look at Aramaki. He’s barely reacting to it."
"Yeah... He just keeps holding the middle."
The pattern continues for several more exchanges before Serrano decides to test something different.
After a series of jabs, he suddenly steps deeper into mid-range and lets the right hand follow behind them.
Aramaki adjusts as well. His head shifts off the centerline while his guard absorbs the remaining contact.
When Serrano follows with a long lead hook, Aramaki is forced to take a short step backward to avoid the end of it.
The moment the danger passes, however, he immediately moves forward again. Not recklessly, not aggressively, simply reclaiming the ground by firing a compact jab-hook combination without over committing himself.
The punches only cut through empty air as Serrano steps back toward the safety of the perimeter, his feet carrying him outside the exchange before either shot can connect.
Aramaki doesn’t follow. He stops exactly where he is, raises his guard once more, and settles back into position. The center of the ring belongs to him again. And for now, that’s enough.
***
The peaceful rhythm continues for more than two minutes. Serrano controls most of the action, throwing more left hands and covering far more ground as he constantly circles along the perimeter.
At this pace, Aramaki will clearly lose the round. Yet Ryoma watches calmly from the corner, a faint hint of satisfaction appearing on his face.
"Good, Aramaki... just stay there. Like you don’t care about winning this fight at all."
Aramaki is doing exactly what he was told. And that matters more to Ryoma than the scorecards right now.
Even when fighting inside the ring himself, Ryoma prefers spending the early stages gathering information, identifying habits, and understanding how his opponent reacts before making meaningful adjustments.
The principle remains the same now that he stands in the corner instead of inside the ring. That is why he gave Aramaki such a restrictive instruction.
Stay in the center, whatever it takes. It sounds simple, but it requires discipline. Aramaki must resist chasing, resist forcing exchanges, and remain stubborn enough to hold his position without giving openings.
As a result, Serrano is the one forced to create opportunities. He has to move, change angles, feint, and bait reactions. And every one of those actions provides Ryoma with information he can use later.
***
Reaching the final thirty seconds of the first round, Ryoma notices movement from the red corner.
It is not Kirizume this time, but another man he has never seen before, suddenly slams the apron and calls out loudly.
"Come on, Serrano! Show him what you’ve got!"
The interruption draws Kirizume’s attention as well, and his expression tightens, clearly displeased, though he says nothing.
Under that voice, Serrano’s rhythm loosens slightly. His footwork becomes smoother, more varied in angle, and for a brief moment even carries a subtle shuffle-like bounce as he moves.
"Now there we go! Serrano starts to open up a bit!"
"Yeah, you can see it. The footwork’s got that rhythm again, switching angles, not staying in one line."
"That’s more like him. That’s the Serrano people came to see."
Serrano still relies heavily on his left hand, but the spacing changes. Each jab now comes from a slightly different distance.
And instead of staying planted after each shot, he is already shifting out again, never allowing Aramaki to fully set his defense.
The gap between them is no longer constant. Serrano bends and rocks his torso more freely, constantly adjusting his level as he searches for openings rather than waiting for them.
Then he probes with a light jab, pulls it midway, and suddenly fires a right hand in a short arc.
Bugh!
It lands clean to Aramaki’s right side, catching him briefly as he tightens up.
"Nice feint... he pulled that jab right back and still got the right hand off!"
Aramaki holds his ground and answers immediately with a chopping right and a follow-up left hook.
"Aramaki fires back..."
Serrano pulls his torso away from the first shot, then dips under the second by bending at the waist before firing back with an uppercut from below.
"Whoa! Serrano slips it in the most unorthodox way you’ll see!"
"And he strikes back from a weird angle!"
Aramaki brings his guard tight in the center, absorbing the shot on both forearms, then returns a compact one-two.
Serrano blocks the first punch and slips the second by tilting off-line, rolling his head to the left before answering with a left hook.
Thud!
It lands clean, but he does not stay in the exchange. He shifts his lead foot, adds a small shuffle step, and calmly circles out, resetting the distance as the round winds down.
"That’s Serrano starting to shift gears..."
"Yeah... you see it now. The movement, the slipping, the way he’s changing levels mid-exchange."
"That’s not just defense anymore, that’s Serrano finding his rhythm again."
"And the way he resets... it’s not urgency at all."
"Yeah, he just calmly walks out of range after that hook. No rush, no panic."
"Just turns the angle and strolls away like he already knows where the next opening is."
"That’s Serrano... even his exits look like he’s just having a party in there."
"This is the version of Serrano that makes the ring feel less like a fight... and more like a stage for a concert."
Ryoma watches the shift without changing his expression, only a slight narrowing of his eyes acknowledging what he is seeing.
Serrano’s freedom in the ring is familiar, almost recognizable, the same loose rhythm and relaxed confidence that has always defined him.
But this time, there is something more structured beneath it. The movement is no longer just instinctive flair; there is a clear system behind it.
The diamond shuffle appears in his footwork, the subtle L-steps and Z-steps shaping his angles with precision rather than randomness.
Even his exits are no longer purely instinctive escapes but clean measured angles that let him disengage without urgency, as if distance itself has been mapped in advance.
It all forms a pattern Ryoma recognizes immediately, something close to a Cuban boxing framework, reminiscent of fighters like Miguel Cabello, though still filtered through Serrano’s own personality and rhythm.
Ryoma’s gaze shifts away from Serrano and settles briefly on the figure sitting closer to the apron in the red corner.
After a moment of observation, he turns slightly toward Nakahara. "Coach, do you know that man?"
Nakahara follows his line of sight, studying him for only a short moment before answering. "That’s Yoshie Noritada. I haven’t seen him in years. Heard he went to America to study boxing. Didn’t think he’d already come back to Japan."
He pauses, as if recalling something from further back. "We’ve spoken a few times before, mostly just as trainers crossing paths at gyms or watching sparring sessions. He always had a strong interest in Cuban boxing."
Ryoma’s gaze lingers a little longer, the implication settling in more clearly now.
This fight may be far more complicated than he first assumed, not only because Serrano’s freedom has taken on a structured form, but also because there is now someone beside Kirizume who clearly understands that system.
He is no longer just dealing with Serrano and Kirizume, but also another trainer who was never part of his calculations before this.
