Spring, 1985.

City pop playing from a dingy radio near the ring, Horiuchi shouted as he struck the black heavy bag with his white gloves on, the black and gold leather jacket on his shoulders flying with each strike’s force as the fox practiced his movement and sharpest punches and combinations.

A new fight upcoming, Taiyo always had to work harder than anyone else in his gym due to being on the smaller side; his dark eyes narrowed and his maw clenched after his shout with a hiss alongside a short and sharp consecutive chain.

Though he wanted nothing but a belt and sweet and simple stuff, he was known for getting quite into boxing despite it just being a mere sport finally growing more noticeable in Japan’s cities.

Jab to the head, cross to the body, slip to the left, lead shovel hook, rear uppercut.

“Unsh— unsh— uns, uns!!”