VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Ryoma’s gaze flicks to Tsutomu, then Kobo. No mistaking them. Kobo’s face is still swollen, puffed from the jabs Ryoma fed him yesterday.

Just seeing the two of them here, sharing a table with Kanzaki, is enough. They’ve really joined Minato Bayside Gym. And yesterday’s visit to his own gym wasn’t curiosity, but scouting.

“So that’s how it is,” Ryoma scoffs lightly, his eyes sliding away from Kobo.

Kanzaki is still standing, squared like a man ready to pick a fight.

But Ryoma doesn’t rise to it. Without a word, he moves past, slipping into the booth beside Kaede as if Kanzaki were nothing more than empty air.

Kanzaki’s eyes track him all the way, burning. When they finally land back on Kaede, something shifts. His posture slackens, and the fire in his eyes dims. He manages only the smallest nod, stiff and curt, before sinking back into his seat.

Kaede mirrors him with a polite dip of her head, nothing more. Despite sharing a class with Kanzaki back in high school, she’d never been close to him. Even now, she has no idea he’s the very opponent Ryoma will soon face.

She just turns away, hiding the flicker of awkwardness as she busies herself with her friends again. But just now, she clearly felt something off. The air between Ryoma and Kanzaki is heavy and strained.

Meanwhile, Kobo leans closer to Tsutomu, keeping his voice low. “Oi… maybe we should bounce. This is getting bad.”

Tsutomu’s gaze flicks to Ryoma, then to Kanzaki, then back to their girlfriends, who are laughing freely, oblivious to the heavy air. He exhales through his nose.

“If we walk out now, they’ll think we’re running scared,” he mutters. “You wanna look like cowards in front of them?”

Kobo’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t answer, just slouches deeper into his seat, chewing on the choice he doesn’t want to make.

The silence lingers, heavy, until Aemi leans forward with a bright smile.

“Ryoma-kun, want to order something? My treat!”

Her cheer cuts clean through the awkward air. Ryoma blinks, caught off guard, and gives a polite nod.

“Ah… thanks, but…” His voice trails, faltering.

He doesn’t even know her name.

Kaede notices it. She clears her throat softly, stepping in to bridge the gap.

“Ryoma, let me introduce them. This is Yuta, my coworker, and next to him is Maho. And this,” she gestures toward the girl still grinning expectantly, “is Aemi. She’s been your biggest fan since your debut match.”

Ryoma’s eyes widen slightly, flicking back to Aemi. Her smile only brightens, almost proud at being mentioned.

Aemi leans closer, eyes shining. “I was so thrilled by your debut! That one-punch KO… it was spectacular!”

Ryoma shifts in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah… that. I just got lucky, really.”

His modesty only seems to make Aemi beam brighter.

Across the room, Kanzaki hears every word. He hasn’t seen that match himself, but it isn’t the first time the story reached his ears: Ryoma flattening Tōjō from Kirizume Gym with a single punch.

“Tch.” His tongue clicks against his teeth.

He snatches up the laminated menu brochure and flicks it open, eyes skimming without focus. Anything to keep his hands busy, to keep from glaring across the room.

But the thought gnaws at him now, sharper than before. That memory stick back on his table, the one with Ryoma’s fights he’d sworn not to touch. Maybe it’s time he finally watched.

***

The minutes drag, thick with uneven rhythms. At one table, Aemi’s cheerful voice fills the air, peppering Ryoma with questions and praise, Kaede gently nudging the mood brighter with every word.

At the other, Kanzaki sits rigid, eyes sharp beneath his cap, while Kobo and Tsutomu keep their mouths shut, their drinks untouched.

It’s like two different worlds crammed into the same café; one lively, one suffocating. And the only thing binding them is the tension no one dares to name.

Then Aemi leans forward, chin resting on her palms, her smile bright as ever. “Ne, Kaede… how did you two even meet? Or, um… what was it like before you started dating? I know he was your junior back at highschool.”

The question falls from Aemi’s lips so light, so innocent. Yet it hits the table like a spark in dry grass.

Ryoma’s hand stills, fingers tightening around his glass. Kaede blinks, caught off guard, her smile faltering as her gaze slides sideways to him. A shadow passes over her face, dimming the warmth from just a moment ago.

She doesn’t answer right away, her eyes dropping to the cup in her hands. Answering that question would mean dragging out a past they both worked so hard to bury.

Ryoma catches it instantly, and a small smile tugs at his lips. He knows exactly what’s running through her mind. So he saves her the trouble.

“Hah, truth is, I was the annoying one,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Always tagging along after her like some little brother. I even used to sneak peeks when she was training at the pool… thought I was being slick, but she probably noticed every time.”

The table erupts in laughter, Aemi practically slapping the edge of her seat in delight. Kaede’s face flushes scarlet. She swats at his arm, half embarrassed, half flustered.

“Ryoma! You didn’t have to tell them that!”

But the awkwardness she carried a moment ago melts away. She finds herself smiling, openly, without reservation.

Aemi, half serious, half teasing, leans in with a dramatic whisper. “Wait… Kaede. You once told me you dreamed of the Olympics. Was this the reason you quit the swimming club?”

Kaede lets out a small laugh, cheeks tinged pink as she shoots Ryoma a look. “How could I concentrate,” she says, “with a peeping tom sneaking around the pool?”

Her words hang between them, light on the surface, but her tone betrays the flicker of old memory beneath the joke.

At the other table, Kanzaki grips his glass until the rim squeaks under his thumb. Each word twists deeper. His first crush… stalked by that first-year brat, and instead of disgust, she actually liked it?

He tips the sake back hard, bitterness scalding his throat. Enough of this crap. Maybe it’s time to get up, to walk out before he cracks.

But just as he shifts in his seat, another voice cuts across the table. Yuta, Kaede’s coworker, leans forward with an eager grin.

“So, Ryoma-kun. You’ve got your next match soon, right? When is it?”

Ryoma sets his glass down. “Three weeks.”

Yuta whistles low. “That close, huh. How does it feel? I mean, what kind of guy’s your next opponent? Do you ever get nervous before a fight? Fear, pressure… anything like that?”

Ryoma leans back, casual on the surface, though his words are aimed like a jab.

“Not really…” He shrugs. “If anything, the fact my next opponent had to send his buddies to spy on my gym tells me who’s really scared. As for me, this rookie tournament’s never my end goal. I don’t even take it that seriously.”

The air tightens. And then Kanzaki’s voice cuts in, hoarse, bitter, loud enough to draw glances from the next table.

“Maybe you should take it seriously.”

Ryoma finally turns his head, his gaze landing on him. Kanzaki’s cheeks are flushed, whether from drink or anger. Or maybe both.

“And you should fear him,” Kanzaki growls. His hand grips the edge of the table, knuckles whitening. “But I guess that’s just you, huh? A soft little boy. Already lining up your excuse so when I put you down, you’ll whimper that you never took me seriously.”