Chapter 839 - 839: Shifting Tides
Yoyogi Gymnasium continues to shake beneath a deafening ovation. Tens of thousands remain on their feet, applauding, shouting, and chanting Kenta's name.
"He won!" Izumi cries, grabbing her mother's arm with both hands. "Mom, he won! Big brother actually did it!"
The mother can only nod through tears. Both hands cover her trembling mouth as sobs escape despite her best effort to hold them back.
But Moriyama stands perfectly still, his face as unreadable as ever while a few old friends behind him burst into laughter.
"Come on, Moriyama. Your son's just pulled off the biggest win of his career."
"At least smile."
"I knew he'd win," Moriyama replies flatly.
"Sure you did," one of them chuckles. "Then why's your nose flaring like you're trying not to cry?"
The teasing continues, while Moriyama stubbornly keeps his eyes fixed on the ring, pretending the swelling pride inside him doesn't exist.
Down in the ring, Kenta turns quietly toward his corner, raising one glove above his head. There is no wild celebration on his face, only deep satisfaction after surviving everything the champion had thrown at him.
Across the ring, however, Hermosa explodes from the red corner, rushing straight at the referee to complaint.
"What are you doing?!" he shouts. "Why are you stopping it?! He's still on his feet! He can still fight!"
The referee remains composed. "He wasn't defending himself anymore. My job is to protect the fighter."
Still leaning against the ropes, Della Cruz watches Hermosa argue with the officials. His gaze then drifts toward Kenta, surrounded by his corner team. The new champion never once looks his way, as though their rivalry no longer matters.
Something twists painfully inside Della Cruz's chest. He wanted to face that savage version of Kenta again, the one who had left him utterly hopeless in Manila. But today, that version of Kenta never appeared, and yet, he still lost.
It leaves Della Cruz with the bitter feeling. He glances back at Hermosa, who is still arguing with the referee.
"There were less than ten seconds left in the round! At least give him a standing count! Check him first!"
Inside, however, Della Cruz already knows that he's completely lost.
"...Give me a break," he mutters.
One of his cornermen looks over. "What?"
Della Cruz simply pushes himself off the ropes. His legs still wobble beneath him, forcing one hand back onto the top rope for balance as he limps toward his corner.
"He didn't even give me his best," he grumbles. "And look what he did to me."
***
Moments later, the ring announcer steps into the center of the ring alongside a WBO representative carrying the WBO Asia Pacific championship belt.
"Ladies and gentlemen... referee Michael Griffin has officially stopped this contest at two minutes, fifty-three seconds of Round Nine. Your winner by technical knockout... and the new WBO Asia Pacific Welterweight Champion... an unmoving mountain... the very bedrock beneath your feet... Japan's own Mount Fuji... Kenta 'The Granite' Moriyama!"
The announcement sends another deafening roar crashing through Yoyogi Gymnasium.
The WBO representative lifts the green-and-gold belt before fastening it around Kenta's waist. Yet Kenta barely notices any of it. His thoughts remain fixed on the final words of the announcement.
"...The Granite?"
"Why not?" Sera grins. "It fits you perfectly. Come on. Listen."
Meanwhile, thousands of voices merge into one, pronouncing his new nickname with unmistakably Japanese rhythm.
"GURAN-I-TO!"
"GURAN-I-TO!"
"GURAN-I-TO!"
By then, Aramaki and Ryohei have already climbed into the ring, pushing through the crowd of photographers to join the celebration.
"Oi! Save some room for us!"
"Told you we'd be celebrating today."
Camera flashes explode from every direction as Nakahara proudly holds the WBO Asia Pacific title above the entire group.
The lead commentator can't help but smile at the sight gathering inside the ring. "Would you look at that scene. Nakahara Gym celebrating another champion."
His partner nods. "Ryohei defended the JBC Super Lightweight title back in February. Three weeks ago, Aramaki captured the JBC Super Featherweight championship from Serrano. And now, Kenta Moriyama finally joins them with the WBO Asia Pacific welterweight title."
"And ladies and gentlemen, don't go anywhere. As incredible as this moment is... this isn't the end of today's card."
"That's right. The main event is still waiting. Ryoma Takeda, the man who unified the OPBF and WBO Asia Pacific championships just a few months ago, is about to make the walk."
"He's now knocking on the door of a WBO world title shot. If this moment belongs to Kenta Moriyama... the biggest star of Nakahara Gym is still waiting backstage."
"What a day this has already been for Nakahara Gym. And somehow... it may still get even better."
Moments later, the celebration finally begins to settle. One by one, the members of Nakahara Gym climb down from the ring, surrounding Kenta as they escort their newest champion toward the tunnel.
Even then, the arena refuses to quiet down. The chant follows them all the way to the aisle, echoing through Yoyogi Gymnasium as Kenta Moriyama disappears beneath a storm of camera flashes and raised hands.
"You know," the lead commentator says quietly, "there was a time when Nakahara Gym was just another small neighborhood boxing gym."
His partner smiles. "Not anymore."
Across ringside, Franc Donovan lets out a long sigh as the celebration gradually fades toward the tunnel.
"I guess coming here was a waste of time after all," he says. "I seriously doubt he will even entertain whatever offer we bring this time."
Jackson slowly shakes his head. "I still believe that man has enormous potential. But watching him dismantle Della Cruz with disciplined, textbook boxing..."
He exhales quietly. "That little gym genuinely surprised me."
"Little gym?" Logan finally speaks, doesn't even look at his son. "Didn't you hear what the commentators have been talking about?"
"I get it," Jackson replies. "They're full of champions now. But it's still a small gym... operating with a small management."
Logan says nothing for a moment. His eyes drift toward another ringside section, where Miguel Cabello sits surrounded by his entourage.
Two seats remain conspicuously empty. Neither Hugo Ramirez nor Jorge Rivera is there with them.
"Remember," Logan says quietly, gesturing toward Cabello's group, "one of your friends is facing a very expensive lesson for trying to stop the growth of that small gym."
Jackson follows his father's gaze in silence. His jaw tightens at the sight of the empty chair.
***
The atmosphere inside Yoyogi Gymnasium gradually shifts once again. With the co-main event finally over, the crowd's excitement turns toward the day's true headliner.
Murmurs spread throughout the arena as people trade predictions, argue over possible outcomes, and debate how long the fight would last.
Among them, Superintendent Shibata looks no different from the rest of the fans.
"Come on already! How long are they going to keep us waiting?"
Beside him, Detective Tachibana never even glances toward the tunnel. His attention remains fixed on Miguel Cabello's entourage seated at ringside.
"Calm down," he says flatly. "We're not here to watch a boxing match."
Shibata lets out an exaggerated scoff. "What are you talking about? The only reason I came here is to watch Ryoma fight. You've just never seen him fight. But the moment you see what that kid can do, you'll become a boxing fan too."
Tachibana doesn't respond. His face remains as expressionless as ever, while his eyes continue scanning the small area surrounding Cabello's group.
Shibata watches him for a moment before eventually following his gaze. Soon, his own eyes drift toward the two conspicuously empty seats nearby.
"I bet he bought tickets months ago," he says quietly. "But after news of that failed vehicular hit reached America, he canceled his flight. Those empty seats are proof. Hugo Ramirez isn't coming today."
Without warning, the house lights dim. A single spotlight swings across the arena before locking onto the entrance tunnel. For a split second, Yoyogi Gymnasium falls into complete silence.
Then, the moment silhouette appears, Superintendent Shibata is the first to explode from his seat.
"Finally! There he is! The Cruel King!"
But his voice barely carries beyond the first few rows, because the very next second, thousands of voices swallow it whole.
♪ Ohhh, Cruel King! Rule our ring!
Rule forever, make us sing! ♪
For the first time, the Cruel King Army doesn't answer with their usual Japanese chants. Instead, they break into an English hymn, sung with the same thunderous rhythm and unwavering unity like the great football ultras of Europe.
♪ Three bullets couldn't bring you down!
Now go and take another crown! ♪
The entire arena shakes beneath the synchronized voices.
Ryoma never changes his expression. He simply walks beneath the spotlight, as if the deafening welcome belongs to someone else.
But the hymn only grows louder.
♪ Cruel King!
Cruel King!
Our forever King!
Three bullets couldn't bring you down!
Now go and take another crown! ♪
Even those who don't know the lyrics quickly join the chorus. For several long moments, the song drowns out everything else.
The commentators can only laugh at the spectacular sight.
"...I've covered boxing for over twenty years."
"So have I."
"...And I don't think I've ever heard anything quite like this."
"Neither have I. Ladies and gentlemen... Ryoma Takeda hasn't even reached the ring yet..."
"...and somehow, this already feels bigger than a title fight."
A few sections away, Jean-Pascal 'The Blizzard' Roy quietly surveys the arena. The reception Ryoma receives is unlike anything he expected.
Behind him, members of his entourage exchange low whispers.
"His image is unbelievable."
"This is beyond marketing."
"For a boxer to command this kind of following..."
Roy simply listens, his eyes drifting toward two empty seats where Miguel Cabello's group sits.
Then he suddenly realizes the entire arena is looking his way. Curious, Roy glances around, and finally sees Ryoma standing at the foot of the ring steps, eyes fixed directly on him.
It is that undisguised interest that steals the attention of the entire arena.
"Oh, what's going on here?"
"Well, Miguel Cabello is sitting right there at ringside. The WBO world champion."
"…Wait. No... I don't think that's who Ryoma's looking at."
"Look closely. That's Jean-Pascal Roy. The IBF world champion."
"…What is the meaning of this?"