VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

He can accept a reach difference of two or three centimeters between himself and Ryoma. But right now, Ryoma’s jabs are stretching far beyond what seems possible.

Still unconvinced, Kanzaki steps in again. The moment he pivots with his lead foot…

Whip!

Ryoma’s left lashes across his forearm.

“Damn it…”

Kanzaki shifts, sidestepping left and right, searching for a way into range. But Ryoma doesn’t budge from his spot, snapping jab after jab without pause.

Ryoma takes a moment of pause, just to taunt his opponent.

“Did you think your boxing was the only style I stole?” Ryoma says, eyebrow lifting.

Then, as if warming into the rhythm, Ryoma shifts gears. His torso sways, his feet edge sideways little by little, left arm dangling forward.

Kanzaki presses to close the gap, but Ryoma just keeps whipping that left hand, carving space and edging out of the corner.

The punches come in a blur, each lash fired without fully retracting, piling one on top of the other. It’s no ordinary jab. He isn’t pulling back between strikes at all. He’s gone fully on the offensive.

And somehow, the commentators catch on before Kanzaki himself. Their voices rise with excitement as they notice the subtle shift in Ryoma’s approach.

“Wait… look at that angle! That’s not a normal jab.”

“Yeah… he’s not pulling it back all the way. He’s snapping it like a whip! Fast, sharp, and nonstop.”

The realization then crackles through the broadcast.

“That’s a flicker jab! Ryoma’s using the flicker!”

“No mistaking it. That’s the same flicker jab Junpei used last week.”

It clicks late, but Kanzaki finally recognizes it. Ryoma isn’t boxing with the style stolen from him anymore.

“Flicker jabs…?”

Of course he’s heard of them. But he’s never cared to study the move. His pride in his own style always kept him blind.

“So what? It’s just another left. Weak… like his sorry ass.”

He charges through the whipping blows, determined to force his way into range. He steps in deep and fires a jab.

But Ryoma won’t let him near. He pivots, shifting the angle, and…

Dsh!

A lash across Kanzaki’s cheek makes him flinch. And before he can reset…

Dsh! Snap! Dsh!

Three flickers slice in rapid fire from three different angles. Each strike jerks his face, his eyes clenching with every sting.

When his vision clears, he sees Ryoma already taken the center of the ring.

And Ryoma doesn’t give him a second to breathe. He pours on the pressure, switching rhythm and angle with every flick, driving Kanzaki back to the ropes.

***

One minute into the second round, but Kanzaki hasn’t landed a single clean shot. He’s now stuck with his guard glued high, shielding his face.

And those “light” jabs? They don’t feel so light anymore. Each one lashes against Kanzaki’s forearms like a switch of bamboo, a sting that multiplies with every strike.

The skin tingles, then burns, as the accumulated pain rises to the surface, less like blunt force, more like being whipped raw.

“Shiiit! I need to find a way…”

Kanzaki sidesteps, desperate for space.

“Finally…”

A breath at last, but only because Ryoma lets up, just long enough to twist the knife.

“That all you’ve got?” Ryoma taunts, voice cutting through the noise. “Where’s that boxing style you’re so proud of?”

Kanzaki freezes. His guard stays up, but his eyes flicker, caught between anger and despair. That split second is all it takes, the words land harder than the punches.

And Ryoma doesn’t give him another heartbeat of mercy. The left hand starts whipping again, piling on the pressure.

In the blue corner, Tsuchida grips the ropes, face tight with frustration. He isn’t blind like Kanzaki. He sees exactly what’s happening. But he can’t find any answer to give, not one that could drag his fighter back into this.

“This… this is too much,” he mutters under his breath. “He’s never trained for this.”

A reach gap is manageable. But an entirely unfamiliar style? That’s a nightmare. Not once in Kanzaki’s career, amateur or pro, has he faced a flicker jab.

Every spar, every prep fight leading up to this was against orthodox out-boxers like Ryoma used to be. Now, that preparation is useless.

Finally, Tsuchida calls out, giving a hint to deal with Ryoma’s flicker.

“Kanzaki! Don’t dance with him! Guard up, eat those jabs if you have to, and close the gap!”

He doesn’t believe Kanzaki would be able to turn the table using finesse here. So he chooses the simplest yet brutal approach.

“Take the sting, and get inside! Don’t stop ’til you’re in his chest!

Kanzaki’s back is already pressed to the corner. With no other choice, he follows his second’s desperate instruction, gritting his teeth. He barrels forward, guard clamped high, bracing for the lashes.

But the flicker isn’t Ryoma’s only weapon. He still keeps snapping that whip of a jab, tempo steady, but his Vision Grid locks on to the faintest cracks in Kanzaki’s guard.

At last, Kanzaki muscles his way inside and fires a furious straight, rage behind it, wide and reckless.

Ryoma doesn’t retreat. He steps in, dips low, and drives his shoulder into Kanzaki’s chest.

Dug!

“I stole this one from Aramaki,” Ryoma mutters

The breath blasts out of Kanzaki. The referee squints, but feels unsure to call it out as a foul.

While Kanzaki’s guard still flares open…

Whud!

A compact left hook smashes into his ribs, making him wince and fold.

And then…

Thud!

Before he can recover, Ryoma’s left rips upward, an uppercut detonating on Kanzaki’s chin, snapping his head back.

And then…

BAM!!!

Comes the finisher, Ryoma pivots and slams a sharp left hook into Kanzaki’s temple.

Three strikes in under two seconds, ribs, chin, and temple. All from the same hand, send Kanzaki to the canvas.

Blug!

The referee dives in, waving over him…

“Down!”

…and the crowd erupts into chaos, a tidal roar shaking the arena.

The commentators also explode right along with them.

“Down goes Kanzaki! Down goes Kanzaki!”

“What a brutal three-piece! Body, uppercut, temple! All with only his left.”

“That setup was genius! He baited Kanzaki in with the flicker, then slipped inside… shoulder bump, hook downstairs, and capped it with that temple shot!”

“I can’t believe this. He’s taking pieces from every fighter in this rookie tournament! Kanzaki’s own style, Aramaki’s in-fighter, even hints of Junpei’s flicker… Ryoma’s using their weapons as he pleases tonight!”

The referee motions Ryoma back to his corner. Ryoma obeys, though not before twisting the knife. As he strides past Kanzaki, he leans just enough for his words to land.

“You hear them?” His voice is low, edged with scorn. “Your boxing isn’t the only style I stole. I’m never fixated on just one.”