VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Stepping out of the office, Tsuchida spots Toru Kanzaki holding court with a bunch of unlicensed youngsters.

Kanzaki looks like the cool older brother everyone secretly hates: hands in his pockets, grin plastered on his face, surrounded by kids who treat him like he’s just unlocked Ultra Instinct in real life.

“Toru! Over here!” Tsuchida calls.

Kanzaki saunters over, still buzzing with energy. Not a bruise left on his face from his last fight, annoyingly photogenic, like a delinquent who accidentally walked onto a shampoo commercial.

“What is it, Coach?” he asks.

“This is Takeda’s last fight,” Tsuchida says, handing him a memory stick.

Kanzaki frowns at the stick, then smirks. “What for? He’s just some kid fresh out of our old high school. Two years behind me, and he couldn’t even finish his last opponent in four rounds. As his senior, I’m honestly disappointed.”

Tsuchida’s brow twitches. It’s true, Kanzaki had come from the same high school as Ryoma. And unlike Ryoma, he did bulldoze through his own last opponent with ease.

Kanzaki’s got every reason to boast. But still…

“Never underestimate your opponent,” he says, jabbing the memory stick into Kanzaki’s palm like it’s a vaccine needle. “Watch it. Study him every chance you get.”

Kanzaki twirls it between his fingers, sighing like he’s just been asked to do the dishes. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, already walking off.

He drifts back to his little fan club, sliding into the role of senpai like he was born for it. With a grin, he starts shadowboxing, punches slicing the air sharp enough to make the kids gasp.

“See this?” Kanzaki exaggerates a jab, snapping it forward. “Loose wrist until the last second… then bang! Tighten it. That’s how you make it sting.”

The kids mimic him, clumsy but eager. Kanzaki chuckles, shoving one on the shoulder to fix his stance.

To them, he’s a master. But to Tsuchida, he’s an unpolished genius wrapped in so much arrogance it could power Tokyo for a week.

Crossing his arms, Tsuchida narrows his eyes.

Then he calls out, “Kobo! Tsutomu! Over here.”

The two boys shuffle forward. Both are third-year high schoolers, still in their high school uniforms.

But with their piercings, bleached hair, and permanent scowls, they look less like students and more like background characters in Crows Zero.

Tsuchida doesn’t speak right away. He gives them a small flick of the hand, ushering them outside like a man about to sell them contraband fireworks.

Once they’re out of sight, Tsuchida leans in. “I’ve got a job for you two. And if you can, bring a couple of friends along.”

Tsutomu’s eyes light up. “You got beef with someone, Coach?”

“Which gang?” Kobo adds, practically vibrating with anticipation.

Tsuchida sighs, scans the area, then lowers his voice. “No gangs. This is about Toru’s next fight. Against Ryoma Takeda.”

Tsutomu grins, teeth flashing. “Say no more. I’ll break one of his fingers. Nobody will ever…”

Plak!

Tsuchida cuffs him on the back of the head.

“Idiot! I’m not telling you to cripple the kid.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Listen carefully. Go to his gym. Act like you want to join, the same way you did here.”

Kobo and Tsutomu glance at each other, their excitement melting into confusion.

“You want us… to defect?” Kobo asks.

Tsutomu looks horrified. “No way! I may be trash, but betrayal isn’t in my vocabulary!”

Tsuchida groans. “Not defect, you morons. Pretend. Just pretend to be interested. Blend in, observe, and report back.”

Kobo brightens. “Ooh. Like espionage?”

“Yes! Exactly! Espionage!” Tsuchida snaps. “Now go, before I regret this.”

“Ryoma Takeda, huh? Guy’s a legend!”

“Total monster! A real senpai among men! We’ll spy on him so hard he’ll think we’re his number-one fans!”

The boys run off, buzzing like they’ve just been recruited into MI6. Tsuchida stays behind, massaging his temples.

For a moment he wonders if this brilliant plan to spy on Ryoma will actually work. Or if he’s just handed national security over to two goldfish in school uniforms.

***

Early afternoon, Nakahara Boxing Gym.

The doors slam open, metal frame rattling. A small pack of high schoolers in rumpled uniforms struts in like they own the place. Their ties hang loose, collars popped, the very image of Crows Zero rejects looking for trouble.

“Oi!” one of them hollers, hands cupped around his mouth. “Boss! Come out already!”

Another slaps a fist into his palm with a smirk. “Yeah, don’t hide! We came all the way here for you!”

The gym goes quiet. Everyone freezes mid-workout, eyes flicking toward the entrance. But before the two loudmouths can puff themselves up any further…

Whack!

Phack!

Kobo and Tsutomu smack them both across the back of the head.

“Watch your damn mouths!” Kobo snaps, shoving one of them forward.

“Show some respect!” Tsutomu growls, glaring as if he were the offended elder.

The two victims rub their heads, grimacing, while Kobo and Tsutomu puff out their chests like proper enforcers.

That’s when Ryoma narrows his gaze. There’s something familiar in those faces, until recognition clicks. Kobo and Tsutomu. His juniors from high school.

He climbs down from the ring, toweling his sweat, and steps closer.

“You two… what the hell are you doing here?”

Before either can answer, Okabe cuts in, his tone sharp as glass. “You know these punks, Ryoma?”

Ryoma shakes his head quickly. “No. I’ve got no business with guys like them.”

Ryohei cracks his knuckles, stepping forward, a grin spreading across his face. “Then let me toss them out.”

Okabe joins him, rolling his shoulders, his glare cold enough to freeze a furnace.

The delinquents’ bravado evaporates instantly. But Kobo and Tsutomu drop to their knees, then collapse flat against the floor in full dogeza.

“Wait, wait… forgive us, senpai!” Kobo wails.

“We didn’t mean no harm!” Tsutomu adds, forehead pressed to the floor. “We saw your fight, we were moved! We came here ’cause we wanna join! Honest!”

Their voices echo pathetically across the gym, the picture of groveling desperation.

Ryoma winces, his face twisting with a cringe. He never liked these guys. Never hung out with them, never even spoke a word to them back in school. And now here they are, barging into his gym like they own the place.

His Vision Grid lays it all bare, their ugly smile, the malice tucked away in the corners of their eyes. But Ryoma doesn’t need the system to tell him; he already knows their reputation. So he turns his gaze aside, choosing to ignore their presence.

Okabe and Ryohei, on the other hand, can barely contain their grins. This gym isn’t exactly known for drawing crowds, let alone followers. And the thought that these rowdy delinquents might actually become their “underlings” has them buzzing, especially since Ryoma himself never shows them that kind of deference.

Then Coach Nakahara emerges from his office. Hiroshi also comes over, with Kenta trailing after, already peering over the scene like he’s doing headcount.

“What’s going on now, Coach?” Hiroshi mutters, sounding weary.

“Six, seven, eight…” Kenta ticks them off under his breath, lips twisting. “Quite a crowd. But honestly? They look more like trouble than recruits. Just look at ’em.”

But Nakahara just stands there, arms crossed, fighting to keep a straight face. For years this place has been a no-name gym, barely scraping by, watched over by a coach who’s seen more empty space than eager faces.

And now, a pack of youngsters barged in, loud and brash, but at least interested. For the first time in a while, he feels the corner of his mouth tugging upward.

“Well,” Nakahara finally says, his voice calm but his eyes almost sparkling, “why don’t we test them first? It’s time for your roadwork anyway. Take them out and see if they’ve got the discipline to last.”