Chapter 768: When Another Layer Begins to Blend

It doesn’t take long for Ryoma with the forward slip drill before the difference becomes obvious, not just to Nakahara, but to everyone watching.

The movement already looks unnaturally refined despite Ryoma trying it seriously for the first time. His head slips cleanly beneath the rope, his torso rolls fluidly from side to side, and more importantly, the lower body never loses connection beneath him.

Every step flows naturally into the next without stiffness or wasted motion.

Even Okabe slowly lowers his gloves while watching.

"...Damn," he mutters.

Aramaki clicks his tongue quietly. "Seriously... this guy really can learn anything way too fast."

Ryoma is taller than both of them, yet somehow the exact same rope height still looks perfectly suited to his frame. The movement remains compact, smooth, and strangely elegant despite the pressure-oriented mechanics.

Even the transitions from right-to-left and left-to-right look equally natural, without one side lagging behind the other.

Nakahara watches silently for several seconds before finally speaking again.

"Good," he says. "Now add punches. For starter, only every third step. Slip, slip, slip-right hook. Then slip, slip, slip-left hook."

Ryoma immediately adjusts. The first few attempts still look experimental, but it barely takes long before the rhythm starts settling into place naturally beneath him.

The slips load the hips. The legs carry the momentum. And the hooks begin emerging directly from the movement itself instead of interrupting it.

Even so, Ryoma still feels the unfamiliarity deep inside his body.

"I need to do this more."

After several passes from one side to the other, Nakahara raises his voice again.

"Now every slip. Slip-right hook. Slip-left hook. One hook in each forward step."

Ryoma adjusts, and this time the difficulty rises immediately. The momentum no longer resets at all. Every roll continuously feeds into the next hook, forcing Ryoma’s calves, hips, torso, and ribs to keep working without pause.

And midway through the ring, he suddenly stops, and takes a slow deep breathe.

Nakahara blinks, and then walks toward him.

"What’s wrong?"

Ryoma exhales once before pressing lightly against his side. "My rib muscles feel uncomfortable," he says honestly. "I can continue... but I’m worried about forcing an injury."

Nakahara turns his eyes toward Hiroshi. And instantly, he understands exactly what kind of conditioning Hiroshi put him through earlier.

"...Fine," Nakahara says before nodding once. "We continue another time. No more training today."

Ryoma quietly nods without argument. They then remove the rope together from opposite ends of the ring before Nakahara immediately turns toward Okabe and Aramaki afterward.

"Get ready," he says. "Three rounds. Light sparring only."

***

From that day onward, Ryoma adds the forward slip drill into his daily training routine too, though only on days when Hiroshi is not hammering his ribs apart with bamboo conditioning afterward.

And the effect starts appearing far faster than expected. Even during stationary heavy bag work, the difference already becomes obvious within barely a week.

Every punch now feels more connected from the ground upward. His lower body always reacts by itself beneath the torso. The calves, thighs, hips, and core automatically engage together at impact almost instinctively now, as if the movement itself has already begun settling into muscle memory.

But the clearest change appears during sparring with Ryohei.

"Don’t give him ground!"

"Hold the center!"

"Don’t retreat in straight lines!"

Inside the ring, Ryoma still moves with his usual lazy sway pendulum cadence layered over Soviet-style rhythm manipulation. At first glance, nothing looks drastically different.

Even when he steps in, Ryoma still closes the distance with light hopping entries and subtle pressure shifts, and then hops back to regain the space.

But then, he actually mixes in another form. Right when Ryohei throws a jab, Ryoma steps in low, crouched posture, head lowered, torso rolling forward beneath the left while closing distance simultaneously.

Ryohei instinctively steps back before firing a one-two. But Ryoma slips beneath the jab immediately, rolling left under the line before shifting right beneath the cross.

His rear foot then glides forward smoothly beneath him, switching stance, and the coiled momentum suddenly releases upward...

BAM!!

The right hook slams heavily against Ryohei’s raised left guard. Even through the block, the impact still knocks his body sideways slightly.

Ryohei plants his right leg hard and immediately swings back with a sharp counter hook. But Ryoma is already gone again.

Slip, roll left, and then the spring releases upward instantly. Ryohei gets no time to protect himself, and...

BAM!!

The left hook crashes directly against the side of his headgear. His vision blurs briefly. And immediately, Ryohei realizes something is wrong.

As the person who spars against Ryoma more than anyone else in the gym, Ryohei immediately feels the difference.

The hooks are much stronger now, and the momentum behind them no longer dies between movements, as if every punch keeps flowing directly into the next one without fully resetting.

Ryohei quickly retreats to regain distance, but...

Swssh!

Ryoma slips forward following the retreat itself, rolling right this time before exploding upward with another hook.

BAM!!!

Ryohei partially blocks it, yet the impact still crashes violently across the side of his headgear. His legs give slightly beneath him as his body stumbles sideways into the ropes.

And Ryoma is already stepping in again, low posture, crouched, ready to launch a left uppercut while the right hand waits high above for a descending overhand.

But halfway through the motion, he suddenly stops. Ryoma pulls the punch back before straightening slightly instead, realizing Ryohei no longer has enough time to protect himself properly.

With the fight less than two weeks away, injuring him here would accomplish absolutely nothing.

Ryohei steadies himself against the ropes before scoffing irritably.

"Not like you showing mercy."

Ryoma smirks immediately. "Oh? Didn’t know you could still talk after getting humiliated like that."

Ryohei’s brows twitch hard. "What was that, punk?"

"What?" Ryoma shoots back openly. "A champion who can’t even hold his ground now wants to bare his fangs at me?"

That immediately shuts Ryohei up. The irritation still burns visibly across his face, but deep down, he understands exactly what Ryoma is criticizing.

Ryoma turns away first before adding, "I know space control matters for your style. But for a champion... you give ground way too easily."

Ryohei frowns hard after hearing that, his jaw tightening visibly beneath the headgear. The irritation from earlier no longer feels like simple annoyance now. Something deeper has started getting provoked.

"We’re not done yet," he says firmly. "There’s still more than a minute left."

Ryoma’s steps stop. Then he slowly turns back toward him. And immediately, he notices the difference in Ryohei’s eyes this time.

The frustration is still there, but now pride has mixed into it too; the kind that makes a fighter willing to get hurt a little more just to prove something back.

Ryoma studies him for a second before giving a faint nod.

"...Fine."

Then he casually raises his guard again, shoulders loosening as he settles back into stance.

***

The slow pendulum cadence only lasts for a few exchanges before Ryoma steps in again with that crouching forward entry. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

But unlike before, Ryohei holds his ground this time instead of giving space, refusing to yield even a step. The moment he plants himself, the rhythm breaks and the exchange shifts instantly into a violent, close-range war.

Both of them stay planted near center ring inside phone-booth distance while hooks and short uppercuts begin flying nonstop through the narrow space between them.

THUD! BUGH! DUGH!

BUGH! BUGH! THUD! BUGH!

Ryohei still loses most of the exchanges as usual. The difference in level remains obvious. He cannot fully keep up with Ryoma’s timing, rhythm shifts, or defensive reactions.

But as he stops caring about losing the exchanges, he actually starts landing punches back too; mostly short body hooks digging hard into Ryoma’s sides whenever the distance compresses too tightly.

Yet Ryoma barely reacts. Despite having the slightly smaller frame between them, he holds his ground, absorbing the body shots without allowing his posture or balance to collapse even once.

And unlike Ryohei, who is forcing himself forward purely with pride now, Ryoma remains calm the entire time.

Even during the exchanges, he still finds moments to subtly reset back into his lazy swaying pendulum rhythm for a beat, creating tiny pockets of space before applying the forward pressure all over again.

At ringside, Nakahara’s eyes narrow slightly as the change becomes more and more obvious to him. Ryoma’s Soviet-rooted boxing style is no longer staying purely Soviet anymore.

Little by little, the rhythm and pressure mechanics have started blending naturally into it.

"Hmm... He’s getting used to it."

In fact, the forward slip-and-roll drill Nakahara assigns to Okabe and Aramaki is rooted in the Peek-a-Boo system, designed for shorter fighters who fight inside tight ranges.

But in Ryoma’s hands, who’s taller and has longer reach with a more elegant form, the same movement begins to take on an entirely different character.

It becomes less compact in-place defense, and more continuous forward-driving pressure, closer to Mexican-style pressure fighting.