As the final seconds of the break tick away, Kenta lightly taps the canvas with the tips of his shoes.
Tuk, tuk, tuk.
The legs are still there, still springy, still light and responsive.
He barely used his feet in this fight. Ever since he became obsessed with chasing the zone, he had abandoned the very thing that once defined his boxing.
"All right... Let's start with the most basic thing I know."
Then the bell sounds.
Ding!
This time, Kenta doesn't march straight toward the center. He bounces out lightly, his upper body keeps its familiar lazy sway, rocking loosely from side to side.
When Della Cruz claims the center of the ring, Kenta begins circling him at an easy pace, gliding around the perimeter with relaxed footwork.
Every now and then, a long jab flicks out from the edge of range. The movement isn't flashy, simply the boxing he has practiced thousands of times.
"Hold on... Moriyama's back on his feet, circling the champion instead of giving up the center!"
