Chapter 1010 - 1010: No Sympathy for the Defeated

A week has passed since that fateful night in Osaka, yet Umemoto Kimitada hasn't regained consciousness. Forget about returning to professional boxing. At this point, even his survival is still uncertain.

And while Umemoto remains unconscious in a hospital bed, Ishimaru seems far more preoccupied with something else entirely.

The management office at Shin-Osaka Teppan Boxing Gym is unusually gloomy now, with stacks of event documents spread across the conference table and financial reports covering almost every available space.

Kamiya sits across from Ishimaru, a thick stack of financial documents spread out in front of him as he goes through the final numbers.

"The total revenue from the event came to $79.5 million." He briefly checks the figures again before continuing. "After Ronin's contractual share and the event expenses are accounted for, our net profit comes to $6.65 million."

Ishimaru slowly presses his fingers against his forehead, his expression tightening as he listens to the final figure.

When they agreed to bring Ryoma to Osaka, they had been fully prepared to lose money. The contract was deliberately aggressive, and they had accepted the possibility of taking a financial hit because Ishimaru believed the real value of the event would come from Umemoto becoming champion.

If Umemoto defeated Ryoma, the investment could have paid off later through his increased market value, future fights, sponsorships, and a potential rematch.

Instead, Umemoto lost, leaving Ishimaru's carefully calculated investment with a future that suddenly looks far less certain.

Worse, Umemoto's future as a professional fighter is now hanging by a thread, potentially wiping out the value Ishimaru expected to build from him.

The event itself did not lose money. Yet Ishimaru's expression remains sour, one hand still pressing against his forehead while the other stays clenched tightly on top of the table, his knuckles trembling with restrained frustration.

"Remind me again," he says, his voice already carrying irritation. "How much am I supposed to give Ronin?"

Kamiya glances down at the figures, checking the contractual breakdown before answering.

"The guaranteed purse is $7.5 million. Fifty percent of the gate revenue gives them another $3.75 million, while thirty percent of the broadcasting revenue comes to $15.6 million. So the total amount owed to Ronin is $26.85 million."

Ishimaru's expression darkens further as he listens to Kamiya's answer, his irritation becoming increasingly difficult to conceal.

"$26.85 million…"

He repeats the figure under his breath, his expression becoming increasingly sour as the weight of the payment begins to sink in.

"So they walk away with $26.85 million… while we're left with just $6.65 million in net profit."

His eyes move back toward the documents, lingering on the figures as though searching for some way to make them look less insulting.

"And you call that a good result?"

The staff around the room remain tense, knowing better than to interrupt Ishimaru while his frustration continues to build.

Kamiya chooses his next words carefully, trying to defend the outcome without provoking him further.

"Well, $6.65 million is still a substantial profit. From the beginning, we were prepared to take a loss, but we ended up making money instead."

Ishimaru slowly raises his head, his expression hardening as he stares directly at Kamiya.

"Making money?"

His voice rises sharply as he spreads one hand toward the space beyond the office, as though gesturing toward the hospital where Umemoto is still fighting for his life.

"Look at Umemoto's condition! He hasn't even woken up yet, and even if he does, the doctors have already said there's almost no chance they'll allow him back into the ring."

His fist tightens against the table as his anger finally spills over. "That was my biggest investment! I was supposed to turn Umemoto into a world champion, and they fucking destroyed that investment!"

Ishimaru points toward the figures again, his voice filled with bitterness toward the money Ronin is still owed.

"And after all that, I'm supposed to hand them a fucking $26 million?!"

Kamiya lowers his gaze, briefly glancing away as though trying to avoid further confrontation while doing everything he can to maintain a calm, professional expression.

But internally, his assessment of the situation is becoming increasingly clear: he is working in an extremely unhealthy environment, under a leader who becomes selfish, greedy, and deeply irrational whenever his pride is wounded.

What troubles Kamiya most is that Ishimaru does not seem genuinely concerned about Umemoto's condition at all. His anger is driven by his own ego, his resentment toward Ronin for taking the larger share, and the destruction of the ambition and massive investment he had placed in Umemoto.

After holding it for a moment, Kamiya finally raises his eyes, his expression remaining composed despite the accusation hanging over him.

"I did my job. More than that, I delivered beyond what we originally projected. The event turned a profit despite everything that happened."

Ishimaru's eyes narrow immediately, his voice cutting across the room before Kamiya can say anything more.

"Instead of showing some concern for what happened to Umemoto, you're already trying to wash your hands of it?"

Kamiya's expression tightens, but before he can answer, the telephone on his desk suddenly rings.

He leaves his seat at the table and walks over to his desk, picking up the receiver while the rest of the room remains silent.

"Shin-Osaka Teppan Boxing Gym."

Kamiya listens for a moment, his expression remaining unreadable as the caller speaks. Then he glances toward Ishimaru and extends the receiver slightly in his direction.

"It's Kurogane from Ronin Fight Management."

The mere mention of the name makes Ishimaru's expression turn even sourer.

He clicks his tongue once, pushes himself away from the table, and walks over to take the receiver from Kamiya's hand.

"What do you want now?" Ishimaru asks coldly. "Did you call just to gloat about your victory?"

Kurogane's voice comes through the receiver, calm and controlled despite Ishimaru's hostility.

[I just want to ask, why have we still not received the full payment stipulated in our contract?]

[I understand if your accounting department needed some time to finalize the books after an event of this scale. A week is hardly unreasonable. But this has gone on long enough for something as straightforward as paying our champion's purse.]

Ishimaru's expression twists with anger the moment he hears the complaint. "After what your champion did to my fighter, you still have the nerve to demand payment?! You fucking disgrace! My fighter is lying in a hospital fighting for his life, and you're calling me here demanding money!"

[Don't shift the responsibility onto us, Ishimaru-san. They fought in an officially sanctioned bout, and our champion never violated the rules.]

[There were officials in that ring, and Umemoto had his own corner team standing beside him. These people were supposed to be responsible for knowing when a fighter could no longer continue.]

Ishimaru's face darkens as he realizes what Kurogane is doing. Instead of defending Ronin, he is quietly turning the scrutiny back toward him.

[It was a brutal fight between two of the strongest fighters in the division. There was never going to be a guarantee that either man would walk away unharmed.]

[Ryoma was trying to secure the victory before the final bell. Your responsibility was to make sure your fighter's safety came first.]

Ishimaru's grip tightens around the receiver until his knuckles turn pale. "You're blaming me?" he asks, his voice rough with barely contained fury. "Are you saying I failed as a corner?"

[I'm saying your hatred for us has blinded you.]

Kurogane's voice remains cold, almost detached.

[I sympathize with what happened to Umemoto. But I don't sympathize with you. You can make whatever argument you want, but that contract is legally binding.]

[Don't think you can simply walk away from your obligations because you can't accept losing.]

"You...?!"

Before Ishimaru can finish, the line abruptly goes dead.

For several seconds, he simply stares at the receiver, his breathing heavy and uneven as the silence around him becomes increasingly oppressive.

Then he slams the handset against the desk, over and over.

"Fuck you, Kurogane! Fuck you!!"

The plastic cracks beneath the force of the impacts, but it still does nothing to drain the fury boiling inside him.

Ishimaru suddenly grabs the telephone itself and yanks it with both hands, pulling hard enough to tear the cable from its socket.

"Fuck you and every fucking person in your goddamn Ronin!"

He then swings the entire device toward the window. The telephone smashes through the glass, sending shards cascading outside as the broken frame trembles violently above the pavement below.

"You think you can lecture me about responsibility from the other side of a fucking phone line?!"

Ishimaru stands there, pointing through the shattered window as though Kurogane were standing on the other side, hovering in midair with some kind of absurd bukujutsu.

"You smug fucking bastards! You fucking animals! You got what you wanted, and now you have the fucking nerve to come after me for your goddamn money!"