Chapter 156: Running Away Now?
The day after the JBC announcement, Kirizume Gym sounds wrong, too quiet, like the air’s waiting for bad news to start talking first.
In the office, Daigo Kirizume sits behind his desk, phone pressed to his ear. Serrano’s name flashes on the screen again. But there’s still no answer.
Across from him, Shigemori slouches in the sofa, rubbing his temples. "I dropped by his place this morning. His mom says she hasn’t seen him in a week. Didn’t even look worried. Big house, big money, zero clue where her son sleeps."
Kirizume exhales through his nose. "So... same as always."
Shigemori nods. "Pretty much. He barely goes home even when he’s winning. But this time’s different. He took that loss bad. Hasn’t touched a gym bag since. And now the JBC names him replacement finalist? That’s a circus."
Kirizume leans back, chair creaking in protest. "A finalist who forfeits, and a runner-up who disappears. Perfect. Just perfect."
Before Shigemori can reply, the door opens. Renji Kuroiwa steps in, crisp black suit, title belt slung over one shoulder, eyes like a man who never learned how to blink.
The air seems to tighten around him, as if the room itself knows who he is.
"We need to talk," he says, voice like a warning.
Kirizume doesn’t hide his irritation. "Not a good time, Renji."
"What about my fight with Ryoma Takeda?" Renji asks, shutting the door.
Kirizume looks up.
Renji lays his championship belt on the desk like a challenge. "You told me, if Ryoma beat Serrano, you’d let me have him before I go overseas."
"I remember," Kirizume says calmly.
"Well, he beat Serrano," Renji continues. "And now he’s moving up to Lightweight. No more excuses. I want that fight. I don’t care what people think, put my belt on the line if that’s what it takes to bring him in."
Shigemori glances at him. "Renji, Serrano’s missing..."
Renji cuts him off. "Then stop chasing ghosts. You’ve got a champion standing here."
Kirizume’s tone stays even. "You’re the Japan Lightweight Champion. You should be looking past domestic fights. We’re talking about sending you overseas. You’re ready."
"I’ll go later," Renji says, leaning forward, "after I beat Ryoma Takeda."
"Why?" Kirizume’s jaw tightens. "Why it has to be him?"
Renji’s voice sharpens. "Because every time my name’s mentioned, his follows. One sparring match, and people talk like he already passed me. I’m the champion. It’s time they remember that."
The silence that follows carries its own weight. Kirizume feels it too, feels the shift in the boxing world, feels how Ryoma’s rise made everyone forget the man already holding the belt.
But still...
"That’s not a reason," Kirizume says quietly. "That’s pride."
"Damn right it is," Renji snaps. "I worked years for this title. He wins a rookie block and he’s the story? No. I’ll put him down before I go to the world stage. Otherwise, I’ll hear his name forever."
Shigemori sighs. "You’re letting the noise get to you."
Renji shoots him a look. "You ever been compared to a guy who hasn’t even won a belt?"
There’s no answers for that. Hell, Shigemori has never won a belt for himself.
Kirizume exhales. "Even if I wanted to make that match, it’s not simple. He’s still Class B. JBC hasn’t confirmed his A-license. I can’t pit my champion against someone unranked."
Renji scoffs. "You could if you wanted to. You just don’t want him getting the spotlight."
Kirizume’s gaze hardens. "I’m not risking my champion’s name on a fight that doesn’t exist on paper."
Renji laughs, short and bitter. "You mean you’re scared."
Kirizume’s eyes narrow. "Watch your mouth."
"No, say it." Renji presses, stepping closer. "You hide behind rules and timing, but it’s not that, is it? You’re afraid."
Something in Kirizume’s face finally cracks. His voice finally bursts out like a whip.
"Damn right I’m afraid!"
The words hit like a punch. Even Shigemori flinches.
Kirizume slams his palm on the desk and stands. "I’m afraid because I know what’ll happen if you fight him. I know he’ll beat you."
The room freezes. Renji stares at him, stunned, the color draining from his face. His throat works before the words finally come out, low and shaking.
"Are you kidding me?"
Kirizume says nothing.
Renji laughs once, short and hollow. "I know he’s good. That’s why I want the fight. I want to test myself before going to the world stage. But you..." he jabs a finger at Kirizume, "You’re saying I don’t even stand a chance against a nineteen-year-old kid? Is that what you think of me now?"
Kirizume’s voice drops. "No. That’s how highly I think of him."
Renji’s glare flickers. "Hell, Serrano almost beat him in the Final!"
Kirizume just exhales, the anger draining out. "Renji, you know this game. The damn kid fought that whole tournament below his real weight. You, of all people, understand what that means. When a boxer finally fights at his natural weight, when his body and power align, you know what that unlocks."
Renji doesn’t reply, but the fire in his eyes wavers.
Kirizume brings his face closer. "You remember that spar between you two, right after he fought Kazuya. No conditioning, no camp, still half-drained. And he almost put you down."
The words hang, heavy and unshakable.
Kirizume continues, softer now but cutting deeper. "Now look at him. After the Rookie Tournament, after what he’s learned, after how fast he’s growing. Once he’s fully conditioned for Lightweight, that fight isn’t fifty-fifty anymore. The risk of you losing is too damn high. And once that happens, you’ll never get your spotlight back."
Renji’s lips part, but no words come. His chest rises and falls slowly. He wants to argue, but every part of him knows Kirizume isn’t wrong.
Kirizume finishes quietly. "That’s why I won’t make that fight."
"So that’s it," Renji mutters. "You’re running from him."
Kirizume meets his eyes, calm but tired. "As a businessman, I have to calculate risk. There’s nothing to gain, and everything to lose."
Then suddenly, from the doorway...
"Shigemori-san!"
They all turn, and find Leonardo Serrano stands there, framed by the open door. His usual arrogance is gone, just appearing with a plain hoodie and a tired face. He looks younger like this, stripped of his bravado.
Kirizume blinks. "Serrano. We’ve been looking for you."
"I’m sorry," Serrano says, stepping in. "For disappearing. For not coming back after the fight."
Shigemori rises, relief flickering across his face. "Where the hell were you? Your parents said they hadn’t seen you." He claps Serrano lightly on the shoulder. "Forget it. You’re here now. That’s what matters."
Serrano shakes his head. "No, it matters. I should’ve come sooner. I just... didn’t know how to face anyone after losing that fight."
Kirizume folds his arms. "You picked a good day to show up."
Serrano nods. "I wanted to ask for a rematch with Ryoma. Thought maybe if I beat him, I could fix how people see me."
Renji exhales sharply. "Join the line."
Serrano’s lips twitch in a humorless smile. "Yeah. But after what I just heard, I’m not sure I’d even want to."
Kirizume raises an eyebrow.
Serrano continues quietly. "I don’t want a rematch just to prove I can win. I want to earn it first. Train properly. I heard about the JBC’s decision. And I want to do it right this time."
Shigemori studies him, then nods. "That’s more like it. The Serrano who listens might actually be dangerous."
"You serious?" Kirizume asks.
Serrano looks at him, his eyes brims with determination.
"Yes, sir!"
"Then show me. Be here tomorrow morning. Seven sharp."
"I will."
"Good. And this time, don’t make me chase you down."
"You won’t have to."
The tension that filled the room shifts, quieter but cleaner somehow.
When Serrano leaves, Shigemori mutters, "Looks like we’ve finally got one of them back on track."
Kirizume exhales, glancing sharply at Renji. "Yeah. One of them."
Renji doesn’t say another word. He grabs his belt from the desk, turns, and walks out through the still-open door.