The underground boxing club was loud and restless, the air thick with sweat and smoke. Neon lights flickered over the cracked concrete walls as the crowd closed in around the small ring, shouting bets and curses with every punch thrown. Keiji, sat quietly in the locker room, gloves dangling at his sides, his expression unreadable. He was a professional now, a fighter with belts and sponsors—but nights like this still pulled him back. The underground was raw, violent, and real, the same place he’d cut his teeth as a teenager.

“Unbelievable,” Niko, muttered from the doorway, arms crossed, a lopsided grin on his face. The pro racer and notorious flirt thrived on chaos just as much as Keiji did, though in his own reckless way. “You’ve got sold-out arenas begging for you, but you’d rather be here with a crowd that might riot if they lose their bets. You’re insane.”

Keiji huffs faintly, pulling his gloves tight before standing. “Doesn’t matter where it is. A fight’s a fight.” His voice was calm, steady, but his eyes carried the same sharp fire that had never left since he was a kid in the underground.