VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Rough path towards weigh-in, the week crawls by in sweat and hunger.

Just as usual, Ryoma’s mornings always start with roadwork. At the gym, he drills mitts, bags, and shadowboxing, but everything is measured. His punches are sharp, yet his face begins to look pale, lips cracked, muscles hollowed by the cut.

Nakahara watches with a frown. “Don’t burn yourself out. You need to make weight, not bury yourself in training.”

Ryoma only nods, but the fire in his eyes says otherwise. To him, every rep is a stone placed on the wall he’s building between himself and Kanzaki.

“I’ve gone through this before. It’s not as hard as the first time.”

His gymmates only whisper on the sidelines.

“Man, he looks drained…”

“Yeah, but look at those flickers. They’re still getting faster.”

Ryoma’s Vision Grid’s still sharp as ever, quietly tracking every heartbeat, every percentage of hydration, every dip in energy.

His body feels like it’s betraying him, but the system helps him push just far enough, never letting him collapse.

At home, every night ends the same, weight scribbled on the logbook, less food on his plate, less water in his cup. Progress is steady, but the last three days before weigh-in loom like a cliff.

At least, he doesn’t screw it up this time. The night before weigh-in, he’s less than 100 grams above limit, and he doesn’t feel so tormented like before.

***

The heater hums, blasting dry heat into the cramped room. Ryoma sits by leaning to the wall, skin drenched, shirt clinging to his back. A bucket of ice numbs his right hand, while the other hand brings a sliver of dried shiitake to his lips.

He chews slowly, but the taste is dust, nothing but a distraction from the hunger clawing at his stomach.

“Just a bit more before going to sleep…”

But his mind won’t settle. It circles and spirals, dredging up memories from the life he lived before.

Losses piling one after another. Broken relationship. The bitter taste of failure that no sweat-cutting could ever erase.

And Kaede…

Suddenly, her face presses hardest on his thoughts. The way it all ended before. The sharp sting of her marrying other man, all because of him and the liquor he downed all night.

Now he’s got a second chance to fix it. But after that awful group date, he feels the path bending the same way again.

The thought is worse than hunger, worse than thirst. For a moment, he forgets Kanzaki, forgets the weigh-in, forgets everything except the fear of losing her again.

But before the anxiety can twist into nightmare, his phone buzzes, snapping him back just as his eyes begin to close.

Ryoma blinks, and sees Kaede’s name on the screen

His throat tightens as he answers. “…Moshi-moshi?”

For a beat, there’s nothing. Only silence, suffocating, until her voice finally slips through. It’s soft, uncertain.

[Ryoma… It’s me, Kaede]

“Yes, I know…”

[About that night…]

Ryoma closes his eyes. The sting of her slap still echoes, and he knows the misunderstanding was partly his fault. And so…

“I’m sorry, Kaede,” he cuts in before she can go on. “I said things I shouldn’t have.”

But Kaede interrupts, her tone low, unexpected.

[…No. I should apologize. I shouldn’t have slapped you.]

Her words are reluctant, but genuine.

Ryoma exhales, his chest loosening just a fraction. “You don’t need to. I get it. I was… clumsy. You misunderstood, and it’s my fault for not explaining myself properly.”

Another silence stretches, heavier this time. Then Kaede’s voice sharpens, tinged with worry.

[Ryoma… what’s wrong? You sound… awful.]

[Ah… that’s right. You must be on strict diet. Your next fight… against Kanzaki-kun…]

Ryoma exhales again, heat suffocating from the heater, ice still biting into his hand.

“…Kaede. I know you might have already made a plan to watch the fight with your friends. But… don’t come.”

[Eh…? Why?]

Ryoma swallows hard. “Because I don’t want you to hate me later.”

[What do you mean? Why would I hate you?]

[Wait… you think there’s something between me and Kanzaki? No, Ryoma. I was never that close to him back then. Not even now. I don’t remember ever talking to him.]

“No, that’s not it.” Ryoma pauses, choosing his words. “…Sorry for saying this again, but there are things about me… you don’t know. Things I can’t explain. Just that… I’m not the jovial and soft boy you think I am. If you watch the fight, I’m afraid you’ll see a side of me I don’t want you to see.”

This time, Kaede doesn’t answer at all. The silence is crushing, heavier than the hunger twisting Ryoma’s gut.

“…Promise me, Kaede. Don’t come.”

There’s still no reply from Kaede. But Ryoma feels her hesitation, her worry bleeding through the silence.

And soon, the line finally clicks dead. Kaede ends it herlself, not saying goodbye, not promising anything.

Ryoma just lets the phone slip from his hand, dropping to the floor with a dull thud. He leans back against the wall, eyes staring at nothing.

The heater hums, and the ice burns. But his stomach knots tighter, sleep drifting further from reach when he actually needs it most.

***

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city…

Kaede sits curled on the bed, phone still in her hand, the call long ended but the silence echoing louder than words. Dissatisfaction, worry, affection, all tangled together inside her chest, clawing for space.

Her eyes drift to her desk. A framed photo rests there, one she has carried through every move, every lonely night. Her younger self, smiling between her father and mother. Both gone now, swept away by the Tōhoku tsunami of 2011 when she still lived in Sendai.

Moving to Tokyo, she thought she no longer had anyone left. But a selfish brat entered her life, annoying, noisy, but always present.

Her gaze shifts toward the photo near her bed. It’s younger her with a much younger Ryoma. He’s grinning wide, still naive and childish, always trying to look cheerful even when she knew he was struggling too.

“Come on, Kaede, smile! If you don’t, people will think I made you mad again!”

His words before taking that photo echoe in her mind. And slowly, the corners of Kaede lips lift faintly.

But then her smile fades. Because that jovial Ryoma, the one she remembers, feels farther and farther away now.

Somewhere after his debut, he changed, too sudden, and too sharp. His words, his eyes, the weight behind his voice, it’s almost like he’s someone else entirely.

Kaede presses the phone to her chest, her heart unsteady.

“Ryoma…”

She whispers into the stillness, her breath trembles.

“… What happened to you?”

Now her mind circles back to his words that night…

“…You don’t see my struggle, and yet you talk like you know everything I’ve gone through…”

At the time, they stung. But now, they carry a heavier truth.

“Maybe he was right,” she whispers to herself. “I really don’t know much about him…”