VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Maruyama stops the video, pulls out the memory stick, and walks over to Noguchi with a flat face, like he doesn’t care about his reputation outside the boxing ring.

“Sure,” he says, slipping the stick into Noguchi’s pocket. “You can play dirty too. But boxing has rules, and rules leave you with fewer tricks. Your opponent can’t kick, can’t elbow. And you can’t do them either.”

Noguchi can’t say a word to refute, and Maruyama doesn’t expecting any argument, simply shoving him toward the door.

“Go home. You’re in no shape to train like this.”

Noguchi just grins, almost pleased to have an excuse to stay home. The expression grates on Maruyama, but he lets it go, shuts the door on him, and turns back to his staff with a weary look.

“So. Where were we?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Before anyone can answer, the phone on his desk rings, stealing their attention. Maruyama strolls to it, and snatches up the receiver.

“Moshi-moshi.”

[Maruyama there?]

“Yes, this is Maruyama. Who’s calling?”

[It’s Yuichi Sōda from Minato Bayside Gym.]

Maruyama frowns. That’s the owner of Minato Bayside Gym himself calling him. He glances at his staff, curiosity stirring.

“Sōda-san… what is it? I heard Kanzaki’s gone missing. What happened?”

[Siiigh… He hasn’t come back to the gym since his lose to Ryoma Takeda. Tsuchida’s been looking for him, but there’s still no word. Honestly, we saw this coming, ever since the end of that fight. Tsuchida said, he looked so numb after that fourth round, not even saying anything about the towel. No argument, nothing.]

“I’ve watched the video myself, and I don’t like it either. That kid… Ryoma Takeda. He had the chance to finish the fight, but he dragged it out just to break your boxer. That’s uncalled for, a disgrace in professional boxing.”

[Yeah. Kanzaki was shattered after that fight, inside and out. It breaks my heart just thinking about it… seeing the best talent you had lose the confidence to even step back into the ring. I really want to do something, maybe teaching that kid a lesson. but…]

“I know your gym well, Sōda-san. But I don’t think anyone there can beat that brat. Not in his class and weight division.”

[That’s why… please, Maruyama. Let me help. Preparing Noguchi to fight him won’t be easy. Finding a sparring partner who fights with flickers is next to impossible. I have Yasunobu who can fight using flicker. I can send him there.]

Maruyama falls silent. Yuichi Sōda has a point there. Sparring partners who can mimic Ryoma’s flicker jabs are rare in Tokyo, maybe even in Japan.

Junpei comes to mind, and he’s in the same division as Noguchi. But Junpei would never accept as they’re both competing in the same tournament.

Two veteran boxers also cross Maruyama’s thoughts. But asking them would be too much because Noguchi is still a rookie.

And yet, Yuichi Sōda is offering his Sekino Yasunobu, a veteran boxer, currently ranked eighth in Super Featherweight.

“Sending Yasunobu here… you must really hate that kid.”

[It’s not me. Yasunobu offered himself. He wants to break that kid, but the kid’s still in class-C. He can’t fight against ranked boxer yet.]

“…Alright. I’ll let Noguchi know. No need to send Yasunobu here. We’ll come to your place.”

[Thank you, Maruyama…]

“No. I should be the one thanking you.”

And just like that, two boxing gyms conspire to teach Ryoma a lesson. But it isn’t some sinister scheme, they have their reasons, a valid one.

What Ryoma did in his fight with Kanzaki is seen as unethical. Maruyama and Yuichi aren’t the only ones who think so.

Across Tokyo, most gyms share the same contempt. Some keep it to themselves, but others confront the matter head-on, calling Nakahara directly.

***

Since that fight with Kanzaki, Nakahara has received no fewer than eight calls from fellow gyms, each urging him to teach Ryoma what it means to be a professional boxer.

On one such call, Nakahara bows his head over the receiver, apologizing again and again. His smile falters with guilty clouding his face.

“Yes, I understand… but please, Ryoma is still young. He only just turned pro. He never had any ill intention toward Kanzaki.”

“He just… he doesn’t know how to carry himself yet.”

“Yes… yes…”

“Thank you for calling.”

“Again… thank you.”

The line clicks dead. Nakahara lowers the receiver slowly, but the scowl carved into his face only deepens. He turns, his eyes locking straight onto Ryoma, clearly displeased.

“That was the ninth call this week,” he says flatly. “Nine gyms. Nine scoldings. All because of you.”

Ryoma leans back in his chair, arms folded, meeting the glare without flinching. Hiroshi shifts nervously at his side, clearing his throat.

“Coach, come on,” Hiroshi says, voice careful. “You know why Ryoma did it. Kanzaki and his camp weren’t exactly saints. Remember those highschoolers? They tried to play dirty with us before the fight even started. Ryoma just gave it back to them.”

“That’s not the point.” Nakahara’s tone cuts sharp, like a lash. His fist taps the desk once, sharp enough to rattle a pen. “I don’t care what tricks they pulled. What Ryoma did in the ring was uncalled for. And the whole boxing community saw it. They don’t respect humiliation. They see it as filth.”

Ryoma’s lips twitch into a faint smirk, unbothered. “Strange… because after the fight, you didn’t look so disgusted, Coach.”

Nakahara’s brow creases deeper.

“You looked,” Ryoma drawls, “almost satisfied. Like I did exactly what you wanted, paid them back for every insult, every stunt they tried to pull. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel good watching it.”

The room hangs silent for a beat. Then Nakahara clears his throat, shifts in his chair, and his scowl wavers, but only for a moment.

He exhales, steadying himself. “Even if I did,” he admits, his voice lower, “that doesn’t make it right. Beating Kanzaki was enough. Breaking him like that wasn’t. You don’t have to drag pride through the mud to prove yourself. That’s not what this sport is about.”

He leans forward now, eyes hard. “Mind games are normal, you’ll see them at every level as you climb. But if you can’t separate that from the fight itself, then you’ll make more enemies than you’ll ever need.”

Nakahara’s last words sink deeper than Ryoma wants to admit. He isn’t just some hot-blooded nineteen-year-old anymore. He knows how the sport works, how the business behind it breathes.

He’s already made an enemy in Daigo Kirizume, and that debt hasn’t been settled yet. Now, with the fallout from Kanzaki, he can feel the circle closing. Gyms are moving against him.

And Kanzaki himself? The rumors that he’s vanished are everywhere, that he might have hung his gloves. It’s exactly what Ryoma wanted, to prove who was soft, to push Kanzaki so far that he’d walk away from boxing altogether.

But Ryoma also knows, in his past life, Kanzaki became the pride of Minato Bayside Gym, their most successful boxer.

This time, he broke Kanzaki before he ever reached that peak. And that makes one thing clear. Minato Bayside won’t forgive him for it.

“Daaamn…” Ryoma mutters tiredly, almost to himself.

Coach Nakahara hears it, but decides to drop the issue. He rises from his chair and flicks a towel against Ryoma’s shoulder as he strides for the door.

“Come on, kid. Time to polish that left hand. We’ll make you a true flicker specialist.”

Ryoma stands, but his reply is firm, shaking his head. “Sorry, coach. I don’t think the flicker alone will be enough against Noguchi. We need something beyond that.”