VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

In one peaceful evening at Minato Bayside Gym…

The place is quieting down. Most fighters have gone home, leaving only Yuichi Sōda, Tsuchida Inejiro, and their veteran Sekino Yasunobu.

Sekino sits on a bench, taping his wrists slowly. At twenty-nine, his body bears the map of years in the ring; scars, swollen knuckles, the kind of wear that only comes with battles fought under bright lights.

Three years ago, he had tasted a title fight for the Super Featherweight belt. He lost, but the memory still burns, fueling every punch since.

These days, though, his ranking has slipped, eighth in the nation now after two straight defeats. His ambition to be champion still lingers, but tonight, that isn’t why he’s here.

Tonight is about pride, about Kanzaki, about the humiliation Ryoma delivered that left the gym’s name stained.

Sekino offered himself as sparring partner for a rookie, not for money, not for glory, but for payback. And now he’s waiting.

At last, the door creaks open.

“Good evening…” Maruyama steps inside, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry we’re late.”

Behind him, Shunpei Noguchi slouches in, hands stuffed into his pockets, eyes roaming lazily across the gym. He doesn’t bow, doesn’t greet. He just smirks like he owns the place.

“So, Maruyama-san…” Noguchi drawls. “Who’s the guy I’m supposed to beat up tonight?”

Yuichi’s brow creases, Tsuchida frowns, and Sekino’s jaw ticks. But Maruyama doesn’t miss a beat, and smacks the back of Noguchi’s head lightly, forcing his chin down.

“Mind your mouth. Yuichi-san and his fighter Sekino were kind enough to give their time to help you. Show some respect.”

Noguchi shrugs, unfazed. “Respect’s earned, not given. And it wasn’t me begging for this spar. They wanted it. So maybe they should thank me for showing up.”

His eyes still wander around the gym, until they land on Sekino. And the veteran’s stare is sharp and cold.

“What’s with that look?” Noguchi sneers. “If you want to avenge Kanzaki, why didn’t you step in yourself then?”

Sekino exhales through his nose, turning his gaze aside. He doesn’t answer, because he knows it was their gym that reached out, offering his time for this sparring.

His silence is the only thing keeping the air from snapping in half.

Maruyama finally clears his throat. “Enough, Shunpei! Time to work. Get warm up”

***

Moments later…

Ding!

The bell clangs, echoing sharp in the empty gym.

Sekino settles into his stance, shoulders low, lead hand swaying with small testing movements. The Philly Shell wraps around him like armor, chin tucked, shoulder raised.

Noguchi prowls forward, loose and unpredictable. His stance is nothing polished, but every step hums with street-bred instinct. He lunges, swings, shoves, nothing clean but everything meant to unsettle.

But Sekino simply absorbs everything calmly, head tilting behind his shoulder, gloves brushing punches aside.

And then…

Snap!

…the flicker jab lashes out, smacking into Noguchi’s cheek before he even sees the hand leave the holster.

“Tch!” Noguchi hisses, grinning through the sting.

He fires back with wild hooks. But Sekino’s shoulder roll eats them, countering with short piston-like straights. Not heavy, not full force, but it’s enough to remind Noguchi of the gap.

The rookie keeps charging, mixing in hooks with wild elbows, crowding close with his head lowered like a brawler from back alleys.

It’s ugly, chaotic but dangerous. Sekino tightens his guard, angling Noguchi off, punishing with stiff jabs whenever space opens.

Minutes drag, and the rhythm grows uneven; one man seasoned and refined, the other just raw chaos.

Yet somehow, the spar balances, only because Sekino is holding back, teaching Noguchi with his fists rather than crushing.

Noguchi knows it. And it gnaws at him.

***

Finally, the bell rings to close the third round.

Sekino exhales, gloves lowering slightly. Sweat rolls down his temple, but his breathing is steady and calm.

Noguchi, chest heaving, spits into the bucket by the ropes. He grins, but it isn’t the same grin he wore before.

His ribs ache, his jaw buzzes. And deep down he knows, if Sekino had wanted, he’d be on the canvas.

He taps his temple with a glove, smirking. “So this is the gap, huh? The ranked eighth?”

Sekino doesn’t answer. He just wipes his brow with a glove, silent as stone.

Noguchi chuckles low. “Alright, old man. I take it back. You’re the real deal. I’ll be coming back here, and next time… I’m beating you.”

Yuichi snorts from the corner. “Big talk, considering he carried you the whole round.”

Noguchi ignores him, hopping down from the ring, tugging at his gloves. His eyes cut back one last time toward Sekino, irritation still burning, but under it, there’s honest acknowledgment of a rookie meeting a veteran’s calm.

Sekino exhales, faint smile tugging at his lips. He doesn’t feel insulted, not looking impressed either. But there’s quiet respect for a fighter reckless enough to keep coming.

“Alright, that’s enough for tonight,” Maruyama declares, voice firm, more to keep Noguchi from mouthing off again than anything else.

Sekino only nods, calm as ever, slipping off his gloves.

Yuichi approaches the apron, folding his arms. “For a rookie, he’s got some bite,” he says, his tone even but edged with dry sarcasm. “Not much polish, but plenty of teeth.”

Noguchi smirks, half turning toward him. “Teeth are all you need in a fight.”

Yuichi hums, expression flat. “Maybe. But sometimes teeth just break.”

Before Noguchi can snap back, Maruyama lays a firm hand on his shoulder, forcing him to bow together toward Yuichi and Tsuchida.

“Thank you for tonight. Really. Having Yasunobu spar with him… that’s no small favor.”

Tsuchida waves it off, though his eyes flick toward Noguchi with little warmth. “Don’t mention it. If it helps him to beat Ryoma Takeda, then it’s worth it.”

“Yes,” Yuichi adds, his tone pointed. “Let’s just hope this brat knows how fortunate he is to be given this kind of help.”

Noguchi tilts his head, grin widening, but Maruyama squeezes his shoulder tighter, cutting the moment short.

“It’s getting late,” Maruyama says quickly. “We’ll take our leave. Again, thank you for your time.”

He bows once more, firmer this time, and gives Noguchi a nudge toward the exit. Following Maruyama outside, Noguchi slips out the door with his usual swagger, leaving only the echo of his footsteps behind.

Yuichi crosses the floor toward the ring, eyes narrowing up at Sekino. “Well? What do you think?”

Sekino peels his gloves off slowly, the leather creaking as his hands emerge.

“You saw it yourself,” he says, his tone is calm and measured. “The kid adapts quick. He’s got instinct. But his boxing… it’s still raw. Too raw.”

Yuichi leans on the apron, lowering his voice. “Do you think he can beat him? That Ryoma Takeda?”

Sekino pauses, slipping through the ropes. He stands still on the canvas edge, sweat dripping from his jaw, and for a moment there’s no answer. Doubt flickers in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he admits at last. His gaze drifts toward the empty door where Noguchi vanished. “But I know he’s not Kanzaki. And I’m not talking about their ability or their style.”

Yuichi frowns. “Then what are you talking about?”

Sekino hops down from the ring, landing lightly despite the long night. He wipes his mouth with a towel, voice low, almost an afterthought.

“Sometimes,” he says, “it’s not your skill or your style that wins in the ring. I believe you know what I’m talking about. Kanzaki is good, but he’s weak inside.”

He slings the towel over his shoulder and walks away, leaving Yuichi staring after him, the words hanging heavy in the empty gym.