Chapter 808: Don’t Make Me Laugh
Even burning with anger, Ryoma’s eyes keep drifting toward Aramaki, still concerning about his chance to win this fight.
Right now, Aramaki is standing near the ropes, one hand resting on the top strand, the other pressed against his waist as he regains his footing after the slam. His breathing is heavier, still uneven from the impact.
Ryoma studies him closely, weighing whether that landing did more than just put him on the canvas, worrying if that throw actually took something out of him.
If Aramaki can no longer maintain the pressure, then a simple point deduction benefits Serrano far more than it benefits Aramaki.
That realization only makes Ryoma louder as he points at Serrano. "That’s your champion? A man who starts wrestling the moment things stop going his way?"
The referee turns toward him. "Enough."
But Ryoma keeps going. "You’re telling me this is what represents Japanese boxing? He’s not respecting the rules. He’s not respecting his opponent. He’s not respecting the sport. Having him as a champion is a disgrace for this country."
He talks about ethics and principles, but in reality he is trying to pressure the referee into disqualifying Serrano without ever saying it outright.
The referee’s expression hardens, and immediately, he exchanges a few words with the ringside officials.
Then he finally turns toward Serrano.
"Point deduction!"
The arena erupts.
Ryoma immediately steps forward. "Point deduction? He didn’t just foul my fighter! He tried to take away Aramaki’s ability to keep hurting him at the moment he was breaking him down. That slam has clearly weakened him, and Serrano’s entire survival just got easier. A single point deduction isn’t enough for that."
The referee points toward the ropes. "Leave the ring."
Ryoma doesn’t move. "One point isn’t justice. You should disqualify him!"
There ref points a finger at Ryoma’s face. "This is your warning, Ryoma! Leave the ring. Now!"
Before Ryoma can say anything else, Nakahara grips his shoulder and pulls him back toward the corner.
"Kid, that’s enough," he says firmly. "You’re only making things worse. Let the referee do his job."
The referee turns back to Serrano, finally giving him the last warning.
"One more foul like that and I’ll disqualify you!"
Serrano barely acknowledges him, and simply looks away.
The referee’s gaze shifts to Kirizume.
"Control your fighter."
Kirizume gives a polite nod.
"Understood."
Then he motions for his team to leave the ring. Outwardly, he remains calm, because one point means nothing, not after nine rounds of domination.
***
Across the ring, Ryoma does not step down immediately. He lingers on the apron, still thinking, still trying to find any way to tilt the fight back in Aramaki’s favor.
The momentum may have shifted. The foul may have changed the rhythm. And if Aramaki truly weakened from that slam, Serrano’s survival window only gets wider. And he cannot accept that so easily.
Eventually, Ryoma turns back toward the ring. "Hey, Serrano! You said you want to fight me? You can’t even handle a top-ranked fighter in this country! And you think you can beat me?"
He leans in slightly, and a sharp mocking edge enters his tone.
"Don’t make me laugh!"
The arena reacts immediately. A wave of laughter rolls through parts of the crowd, some clearly entertained by Ryoma’s sudden outburst. But it doesn’t stay playful for long.
"Oi, Serrano! Just focus on your opponent!"
"Stop looking outside the ring, champ!"
"You’re barely hanging in there!"
"Forget Ryoma! You are clearly not ready for him yet!"
The criticism spreads quickly, louder than the cheers in some sections, frustration building as fans shout down Serrano’s lingering attention toward ringside.
"Fight the man in front of you!"
"He’s right there!"
"Stay in the fight!"
At the commentary table, both voices break into brief surprised chuckles.
"Heh... Ryoma really just poked the bear there!"
"But honestly... they’re not wrong either. Serrano’s got a very real problem right in front of him, and it’s not Ryoma."
Serrano’s eyes narrow. The earlier indifference drops away, replaced by mounting anger and irritation. No words come from him, but the anger is unmistakable.
Kirizume also notices the shift in his face, and it also makes him uneasy, because another foul after this would be a disaster.
"Hey Leo," he calls. "Just ignore him, and focus on the fight!"
Serrano hears him and obeys, bringing his guard high again, waiting for the ref to resume the fight. He looks obedient now, still not out of respect, but simply because he has no choice.
Meanwhile, the referee keeps the fight paused, allowing Aramaki time to recover from the slam. By the time the officials restore order, nearly two minutes have already passed.
He waits for a few more moments before finally stepping closer.
"You good to continue?" he asks.
Aramaki takes a deep breath. The ache from the impact is still there, but he nods. Then he pushes himself away from the ropes and walks toward center ring.
His guard rises, his footing still looks stable. Only Aramaki knows how much that landing actually hurt him.
The referee steps between them, gesturing to get ready.
Then finally...
"Box!"
And the fight resumes.
"There’s only a minute left in this final round!"
"And after everything that just happened, who knows how much that foul is going to affect the fight!"
"Did Serrano buy himself a lifeline, or did he just make Aramaki even more desperate?"
"That’s the question now! Can Aramaki pull off a miracle before the bell? Or will the champion survive long enough to drag this into the next round?"
The crowd begins chanting for Aramaki to keep pushing forward, while almost nobody seems interested in defending Serrano at all.
"Keep going, Aramaki!"
"You’ve got him!"
"Just one more push!"
Serrano tries performing his slick footwork again, changing angle, shuffling, switching stance, while walking around to avoid Aramaki.
But instead of cheers, mockery follows him.
"What kind of boxing is that?!"
"You call that championship boxing?!"
"You don’t deserve to be our champion!"
The criticism grows louder.
"Aramaki!"
"Take that belt from him!"
"Beat that gaijin’s ass!"
Serrano hears every word. And somehow, an urge to completely destroy Aramaki and shut down this crowd begins building deep inside his chest.
His guard drops slightly, seeming to fight back. But Kirizume calls him out immediately.
"Forget them, Serrano! You’ve already won this fight. Keep using your reach. Keep the jab working."
Serrano follows the instruction. But inside, everything is rebelling. He understands the importance of discipline now. The problem is that his arms no longer want to cooperate.
And more than that, he hates this version of the fight. He hates the idea of surviving his way to victory. He hates the fact that he cannot break Aramaki the way he originally intended.
Slowly, his eyes toward Ryoma. And immediately, the earlier taunt resurfaces.
You can’t even handle a top-ranked fighter in this country.
And you think you can beat me?
Don’t make me laugh.
The words hit harder now, as they drag up every ounce of humiliation he has endured since that lose at the rookie tournament.
