VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

The next day, Reika returns to Nakahara Boxing Gym. This time, sitting in the passenger seat is a girl her age, Miyuki Kugimiya, her high school friend who now studies at Tokyo University.

Despite being a student, Miyuki looks more like an office worker today, dressed in a sharp formal suit, and a notebook resting on her lap.

“Remember, you’re one of my father’s employees now,” Reika reminds her.

“I know, I know…” Miyuki replies with a tired sigh. Then she blinks. “Ah, wait… what’s your father’s company again?”

Reika shoots her a glare. “Nexus Sport Network. NSN for short. Always say NSN first before you bother explaining what it stands for. You get it?”

Miyuki grins wide. Finally, Reika unlocks the door and they both step out of the car together.

Who knows what she’s planning now. But Reika’s heart hammers against her ribs, the kind of beat that comes when you’re afraid your plan might collapse before it even begins.

She pauses at the entrance, takes a steadying breath. And then, pushing the door open, she calls out with practiced enthusiasm.

“Good morning, everyone!”

Inside, the Nakahara Boxing Gym falls into silence. The sound of gloves on bags gradually stops. Every head now turns toward Reika.

Everyone does the same, except Ryoma, who continues squatting with dumbbells, sweat beading on his brow. Hiroshi, supervising at his side, casts a glance at Reika, curiosity flickering there, but edged with clear displeasure.

Reika tilts her head slightly, noting Ryoma’s unbroken focus. “Still at the same training as yesterday, huh?” she says, half to herself.

Unlike the day before, she forces herself to push the conversation, making her presence impossible to ignore.

“So, Hiroshi-san… is there something special about this training? Something to do with Ryoma’s next opponent?”

Hiroshi hesitates, looking momentarily awkward. He nods, but his unsure smile betrays him. He still sees her as an outsider, unsure if he should share details of Ryoma’s regimen with her.

Before the silence can stretch, Coach Nakahara steps out of his office, instantly catching Reika’s attention.

Reika hurries toward him before the old man can reach her, Miyuki trailing just behind.

“Good day, Nakahara-san!” Reika bows politely.

“Oh, isn’t it… what was your name again?” Nakahara trails off.

“It’s Reika, sir!” she answers brightly.

“You’re here to see Aki again? But Aki isn’t…”

“Oh, no, no!” Reika waves her hands quickly. “Actually…”

Her smile falters.

“The truth is… yesterday I didn’t come because of Aki.”

Nakahara blinks. “Is that so?”

Reika straightens suddenly, her guilty expression shifting into one of eager excitement.

“To be honest, I’m not here as Aki’s friend. I’m here as the daughter of Logan Rhodes, the owner of NSN.”

Nakahara frowns slightly. “NSN?”

Miyuki steps in smoothly. “Nexus Sport Network. A company centered on sports events; broadcasting, marketing, sponsorships. We’re not so well known in Japan, but globally, especially in the U.S., our business is quite established.”

Nakahara nods, concealing his interest, though a flicker of hope stirs in his eyes. Could his small gym be attracting the attention of a global company?

“And what is it you want from me?” Nakahara asks at last.

Reika clasps her hands, her smile wide. “Well… I’ve been following Ryoma’s career. At first, only because of Aki’s work as a journalist. But watching Ryoma myself, I saw his potential. I mentioned it at home, and my father became curious. He asked me to stay in touch here.”

Nakahara’s face brightens. “Aaah, so yesterday…”

“I hope you’re not angry,” Reika cuts in gently. “You could say yesterday I was acting more like… scouting the gym on behalf of the company. But I’m not a professional, just a girl who truly admires Ryoma’s talent.”

Nakahara can’t suppress a naive smile. And just like that, Reika plants her first stake firmly, securing her foothold inside the gym.

***

Meanwhile, Ryoma keeps squatting, his breath steady, but his gaze locks on Nakahara’s face. From this angle, he only sees Reika’s back, yet the old man’s naive smile is impossible to miss.

And then, his Vision Grid flickers to life

***

[SCAN: SUBJECT – NAKAHARA]

Micro-expression: cheek tension + slight eye dilation.

Pattern match: Recent Engagement with Tsutomu / Kobo.

Conclusion: Hope surge detected.

***

Ryoma’s face twitches, scowling. The old man is again brimming with hope, but a dangerous reckless hope.

But his ears only catch fragments of Reika’s voice. Her tone lifts now and then, sharp with forced enthusiasm, while Nakahara’s deeper replies blur into muffled hums.

The distance nags at him. He wants to know what they’re saying, yet his body is locked into the drill, dumbbells weighing down his shoulders.

That frustration twists his focus elsewhere, onto Nakahara’s lips. Unconscious at first, Ryoma just keeps watching, reading the shapes, the hesitations.

Then, without warning, the Vision Grid flickers again.

***

[New Feature Available]

Would you like to activate Lip Reading?

– Yes/No

***

Ryoma’s muscles freeze mid-rep. His knees lock.

“Why’d you stop?” Hiroshi’s voice cuts in, sharp with concern.

Ryoma exhales, forcing his legs to lower again.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

He resumes the motion, sweat dripping down his jaw. But the new option still hovers at the edge of his sight, glowing faintly, persistent.

Ryoma almost laughs. A smirk tugs at his mouth.

Fine. Let’s see what you can do.

His gaze fixes on the word Yes. With just one deliberate blink, and the option flares bright red.

***

[Lip Reading: Activated]

***

The HUD reshapes, lines sharpening, Nakahara’s moving lips suddenly clear, each syllable reconstructed on-screen in real time.

***

“…potential… maybe… support… if…”

“…but risk… small gym… not sure…”

***

The words stutter, broken and out of sync, like puzzle pieces scattered mid-table. As his irritation flares, and the HUD steadies, words smoothing into full sentences at last:

***

“Ryoma’s potential… it’s something we can’t ignore.”

***

He exhales sharply, stunned by the sudden clarity.

But then, something new occurs. A faint vibration creeps into his skull, metallic and thin, layered beneath the text.

It’s not just letters anymore, but a voice.

>

The sound hums from nowhere, tinny and robotic, like Nakahara himself is wired into his head through a cracked speaker.

Ryoma blinks hard. The gym wavers, lines bending as though the world is painted on rippling glass. Every sound around him fades into sludge, drowned by the mechanical murmur.

Suddenly, his grip slips. The dumbbells crash to the floor.

“Ryoma?!” Hiroshi’s eyes are sharp with alarm. “What’s wrong with you?!”

Ryoma lifts his head, still locked on Nakahara’s lips, and the voice becomes louder as Nakahara comes to him, rattling inside his skull.

>

Ryoma’s knees buckle. His gaze drops, the old man’s mouth vanishes from sight, and the voice cuts out.

The silence should calm him, but it doesn’t. The dizziness lingers, vision warping, stomach roiling.

Ryoma tries to speak, but a violent heave tears through him. He folds forward, and…

“Ahoooeeek…!!!”

…vomit spilling onto the mat, the acrid stench spreading instantly.

The gym freezes. Gloves hang mid-air. Every head turns to the sight of their undefeated fighter on his knees, choking, body trembling.

“Urp.. hoeek.. cough, cough! Urg… hooeeek!!!”

The Vision Grid sputters at the edges of his sight, giving an alarm. It flickers once, and then collapses into darkness.

All that remains is Ryoma’s ragged breathing, the sour taste of bile, and the stunned silence pressing in from every corner of the gym.