As the round goes on, something begins to shift. Ryoma's movements, once erratic and unpredictable, start to fall into a pattern.

His steps grow steadier, his slips and parries tighter, each motion unconsciously echoing the tempo of Elliot's pendulum rhythm.

His eyes never leave Elliot's shoulders, tracking the subtle sway, the rise and fall of the lead hand. His reactions sharpen, but in doing so, his timing begins to mirror Elliot's beat.

Every time Elliot bounces forward, Ryoma shifts back. When Elliot glides away, Ryoma follows in the same beat, as if they share one invisible metronome.

To Ryoma, it feels natural, just instinctive. His Vision Grid reads the rhythm, his muscles adjust, his habits refine the flow without thought.

But to those watching from ringside, it looks uncanny, Ryoma mimicking Elliot's movement.

"He's moving in sync," one of the journalists murmurs. "Like they're dancing the same steps."

Sera watches in silence, his jaw tightening. He's seen this before, the way Elliot's rhythm slowly pulls fighters into orbit. And today, he does it again to Ryoma, for the second time.

Ryoma's own rhythm, once fluid and free, now loops within Elliot's pendulum. Each bounce, each jab, draws him deeper into the same wavelength.

Elliot steps forward, and Ryoma steps back in the same instant. Elliot jabs, Ryoma slips. Elliot feints, Ryoma twitches. The symmetry is too precise, almost mechanical.

The crowd senses it too, the way the duel has turned from a clash into a reflection.

Still no clean hit, no heavy punch. But something deeper is happening: Ryoma's instinct to read and adapt is betraying him, pulling him into Elliot's tempo, his world.

And as the seconds tick away, the gym feels heavy, the air trembling under that shared rhythm, two boxers moving as one, one leading, one unknowingly following.

Just the calm before the storm.

Drawn deeper into the rhythm, Ryoma's counter instinct sparks. He locks onto Elliot's pattern, predicts the next beat, and coils for the counter.

That's when Elliot breaks it, the rhythm shatters. A sharp right hook suddenly crashes against Ryoma's temple.

BAM!!!

Even with the headgear, Ryoma's balance collapses.

"Shit… he got me again."

His knees buckle, and he nearly drops, but instinct saves him. He immediately rolls with the blow, stumbling two steps to the side before planting his right foot hard, steadying himself.

Elliot doesn't hesitate. He closes the gap, unleashing a tight burst of hooks.

Ryoma sees them coming, hands up, blocking, parrying. But his legs are shaking, his base unstable. The weight in his knees feels wrong, his stance hollow.

He swings back, desperate to break the pressure, landing a low hook to the ribs. And Elliot answers instantly, a hook snapping against Ryoma's headgear.

The crowd gasps as both punches land flush, an almost perfect trade, over in a blink.

Ryoma doesn't retreat, or maybe he just can't. His legs are still numb, heavy as sandbags. So he fires again: a left hook up top, followed by a sharp right uppercut.

Elliot reacts fast, blocks the hook by his ear, catches the upper with his forearm…

Dug, dep!

…then he slips in his own left hook.

But Ryoma sees it coming. He ducks, the punch slicing air over his head, then pivots hard and buries a right hand into Elliot's ribs.

Bugh!

Elliot's face tightens with pain. He retaliates, unleashing a flurry, one crisp left uppercut, two hooks from both sides.

Srf! Srf! Srrfff!

Ryoma manages to block the upper, duck under the hooks, then counters low again, ripping a body shot.

This time, Elliot's ready, and times it with a low block.

Dug!

Gritting his teeth, he steps back, once, twice, breaking away from the close-quarters grind.

His pendulum rhythm halts. He just stands there, breathing hard, eyes sharp, reassessing.

"Damn… this guy can take a punch."

"And for an out-boxer, his infighting's no joke."

"I can't match him in the pocket."

Ryoma stays still, head throbbing from the three hooks he took. His legs tremble, the numbness still clinging to them. Footwork's off the table for now, so he uses Elliot's hesitation to breathe, to reset.

***

When Elliot resumes his pendulum rhythm, Ryoma adjusts. His guard comes up high and tight, feet anchored to the canvas.

Now he looks less like the graceful out-boxer he started as, and more like a tight-shelled in-fighter, compact, and ready to trade.

His eyes lock back onto that pendulum sway, reading every beat of Elliot's rhythm.

Then the system cuts in, mocking.

<< What a fool. You let yourself sink into his rhythm and took the bait… twice. >>

"Shut up and let me fight."

<< Just saying, there's something off about that sway. Like a clock's pendulum. So steady it puts you under… hypnotized. >>

"Stop messing with my head. I'm in the middle of a fight now."

Elliot starts again, left hand flicking in that lazy tempo, stepping forward–back–forward, each beat punctuated by a slapping jab.

Pak! Pak! Pak!

Then he starts shifting angles, right, then left, but the pendulum rhythm stays unbroken, same tempo, same lull.

<< That strange rhythm… you read it, memorize it, then drown in it. >>

<< You think you're tracking him. But the moment you believe you've got him mapped, he breaks the rhythm, then catches your counter with a hook. >>

Ryoma exhales slowly.

"I know… then what do I do? Stop reading him? Close my damn eyes and go ultra instinct?"

<< No. Read him deeper. Not to predict, but to find what he doesn't know he's showing. A cue. A tell. Something that slips right before he breaks the rhythm. >>

Ryoma's brow lifts slightly. The idea isn't new, and he knows what to do.

But to do it, he has to confront Elliot head on, keeps reading him to the moment he throws the rhythm-breaker punch.

Which means, he has to take the risk. To eat the bait again, and provokes Elliot to break his rhythm.

"This is dangerous, but… fine! Let's dug it out."

He tightens his guard and inches forward, little by little, letting Elliot's pendulum jabs smack against his gloves.

His Vision Grid tracks the motionrecording, measuring, calibrating the beat.

Pak! Pak! Pak! (445 ms, 447 ms, 444 ms)

Pak! Pak! Pak! (443 ms, 445 ms, 444 ms)

The tempo holds steady, almost perfectly constant.

To catch the rhythm-breaker, Ryoma knows he has to let himself sink into that rhythm, let it swallow his senses until he feels it more than sees it.

He syncs with Elliot's jabs, timing each pulse, then steps deeper, baiting the punishment.

But Elliot doesn't bite. He drifts back, circling to the side with calm precision, eyes sharp, studying.

"What now? He's backing off? Scared?"

<< Negative. Observe his eyes. He's not afraid. He's just intrigued. >>

Elliot's trying to read him, to understand why the sleek out-boxer suddenly turned in-fighter. Maybe Ryoma's legs are still heavy from those earlier exchanges. Maybe he's hurt.

But Elliot can't ignore what happened up close, that Ryoma handled himself damn well inside the tight space earlier.

"Is he… trying to lure me into trading again?"

A faint smile pulls at Elliot's lips.

"Fine. Let's see what you've got."

He restarts the Soviet-style pendulum step, back into rhythm, and throws two full cycles of triple lefts.

Pak! Pak! Pak!

Pak! Pak! Pak!

Light jabs, all of them. Ryoma blocks every shot, inching closer with each step.

He's timing it now, the beat, the breath, the shoulder twitch. Then he steps in deeper.

That's when it happens, the rhythm-breaker.

Elliot shifts gears, exploding with a flurry of hooks.

Bug! Dug! Dug! Dug! Dug! Bug! Dug!

Ryoma takes two to the body but blocks everything upstairs. And then he cocks his right.

Elliot reacts fast, stepping out of range, refusing the exchange.

He gets away, but Ryoma gets what he wanted.

***

[Microexpression Scan – Result Log]

SCAN COMPLETE

SUBJECT: ELLIOT GRAVES

ANALYSIS WINDOW: 2.3 SECONDS PRIOR TO RHYTHM SHIFT

DETECTED PATTERNS:

– Left orbital contraction: 3.2° squint (latency 118 ms)

– Auricular micro-retraction: both ears, 2.4 mm backward shift

– Cervical tension spike: right sternocleidomastoid, +14% EMG equivalent

– Concurrent occurrence across all channels: 99.3% correlation with rhythm-breaker initiation.

CONCLUSION:

Subject exhibits involuntary pre-attack markers immediately prior to power transition sequences.

***

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