VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Five days after that still night at JR Tokyo General Hospital.

The treatment room doesn’t feel like a place for recovery, more like a pause in time. Ryoma sits beside his mother’s bed, one hand near hers, the other loosely gripping a half-empty cup of vending machine coffee.

The worst is over. Fumiko is stable now, pale, weak, but awake. She turns her head toward him, her voice faint but still teasing.

“You’ve been here five days straight, Ryoma. You planning to move in here?”

Ryoma exhales through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Rent’s cheap here.”

That earns a small laugh, soft and airy, followed by a sigh. Fumiko reaches for his hand, and he meets her halfway.

“You’ve always been stubborn,” she murmurs. “Even when you’re scared.”

Ryoma doesn’t answer, just tightens his hold a little.

Then a light knock comes at the door, and a nurse pokes her head in.

“Takeda-san, you have visitors,” she says with a smile.

Ryoma blinks, frowning. “Visitors?”

“Two girls,” the nurse replies. “They said they’re your friends.”

Before he can ask, a bright voice greets from the hall.

“Good morning!”

He turns and sees Aki, waving from the doorway, hair loose, holding a fruit basket and a cheap bouquet of lilies. Behind her is Reika, quiet as always, appearance effortlessly elegant.

“…What are you two doing here?” He asks.

Reika steps in with her usual grin. “You think your coach can keep secrets? Please.”

Aki bows politely. “We heard about your mom. So we came to visit.”

Ryoma exhales tiredly. “I’m not doing interviews.”

Aki pouts. “Wow. You think I’m that shallow? We’re here as friends.”

Ryoma raises an eyebrow. “Then why are you holding your recorder?”

She freezes, eyes widening, before quickly stuffing it into her bag. “Sorry! Occupational hazard!”

Reika laughs softly. “You really can’t turn it off, can you?”

Aki waves her off. “I didn’t even ask him anything yet!” Then she straightens up, smiling at Fumiko. “May we come in?”

Fumiko chuckles, voice gentle. “Of course. I don’t get guests like this often.”

They all gather near the bed. The sunlight slants through the blinds, cutting the room into warm stripes of gold and shadow.

“Aki and Reika, right?” Fumiko says. “My son’s talked about you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” Aki says quickly.

“Mostly that you talk too much,” Fumiko teases. “But I get it. You are a journalist.”

Reika laughs softly, setting the flowers down. The air lightens as they talk, light, harmless chatter about the hospital food, the view, small things to keep the silence from settling.

But it’s Aki who brings the world back in.

“Ryoma? You really haven’t checked your phone, huh?”

Ryoma glances at her. “What about it?”

Aki pulls out her phone, scrolls, then shows him the screen. “You’re everywhere. The Japanese Rookie Who Humbled Serrano. The Silent Prodigy. The Chameleon Boxer.’”

Fumiko raises her eyebrows, amused. “Sounds like you’re famous.”

Ryoma sighs, rubbing his temple. “People just exaggerate.”

Reika smiles gently. “Maybe. But you impressed them.”

Aki crosses her arms, leaning forward. “You should see the comments. Some fans abroad think you’re not human. They keep saying your sense of timing looks too precise.”

Ryoma blinks at that, his chest tightening for a brief second before he masks it behind a small shrug.

“You know people online say a lot of things.”

Aki tilts her head, eyes narrowing slightly. “Still. It’s not normal, you know…”

But before she can continue, a knock interrupts her.

A woman in a white coat steps in, looking calm and composed. Her voice is soft and professional.

“Takeda-san. Sorry to intrude.”

Fumiko smiles, her tone suddenly warmer. “Ah, Dr. Ayame. You’re here.”

Aki and Reika stand, bowing politely. Ryoma follows their gaze, curious.

Dr. Ayame smiles at them all before turning to Fumiko. “How are we feeling today?”

“Better,” Fumiko answers before nodding toward Ryoma. “Thanks to him.”

“Good,” Ayame says, pulling a small notepad from her pocket. “Let’s see how your mind’s doing today, shall we?”

She writes something quickly on the pad, just a few words, and then holds the note up for a second. Fumiko’s eyes flicker across the page. Before anyone else can see it, Ayame folds the note shut.

“What did you read?” she asks gently.

Fumiko smiles faintly. “Everything is going to be all right. There is a way out of every problem.”

Aki smiles at the phrase. “That’s beautiful.”

Ayame returns the smile, though there’s something else in her eyes.

“Still as sharp as ever, huh?” she says softly to Fumiko. “You always were. And like I always tell you, it’s a gift. Even if you still think it’s a curse.”

Fumiko chuckles lightly, brushing her hair aside. “Some days, I still do.”

Ryoma watches them, his brows drawing closer. “What are you two talking about?”

Ayame glances at him. “She had come to me quite a lot before this. Your mother… she notices things others can’t. See details most people overlook.”

Ryoma slowly turns to his mother, his voice lowers. “Since… when?”

Ayame cuts him immediately, her tone quiet but firm. “Not now, Ryoma-kun.”

Ryoma falls silent. Fumiko looks between them, confused for a moment but too gentle to ask.

Ayame softens her tone again. “Let’s not dig into things that hurt while she’s still healing. What matters is, she’s safe now.”

Ryoma nods slowly, eyes cast down.

“Right…”

Ayame gives Fumiko’s shoulder a light pat. “You’re doing well. I’ll check on you again tomorrow.”

She bows to the others, and then leaves quietly.

The silence she leaves behind stirs with things unsaid. Aki shifts her weight uneasily. Her curiosity flares, the journalist in her itching to ask, but something in the room stops her.

And so, before losing to the temptation, she gets up and exhales softly, forcing a small smile.

“Well, we should go. Still got works to do.”

Fumiko smiles back. “Thank you for visiting. You two are sweet.”

Ryoma nods, standing. “I’ll walk you out.”

Reika bows before leaving. “You need rest, Takeda-san.”

***

The hallway outside feels quieter now. The lights whisper faintly, filling the silence between their footsteps.

Aki looks too thoughtful. She keeps glancing at Ryoma, as if connecting invisible dots. Then she stops walking, and turns to him.

“Hey, Ryoma-kun…”

Ryoma looks at her. “Yes?”

Aki’s eyes narrow slightly. “Don’t tell me you also have the same superpower.”

Ryoma freezes. For a heartbeat, he forgets how to breathe.

“Superpower?” he repeats, forcing a faint confused smile. “What… what are you talking about?”

Aki leans closer, teasing but searching. “You know. The thing your mom has, seeing everything, every detail.”

Before he can answer, Reika steps between them, frowning. “Aki, stop. You can’t just call it superpower. Not after what his mom has gone through.”

Aki blinks, realizing how it sounds. “Right… sorry.”

Ryoma quickly uses the moment to breathe again. He gives a small awkward laugh. “Yeah, no superpowers here.”

Aki sighs, scratching her head. “Fine, fine. Just forget it.”

As they reach the elevator, Aki waves as the doors slide open. “Take care, okay? And tell your mom she’s cooler than you.”

Reika bows. “See you soon, Ryoma.”

Ryoma just smiles faintly, still hiding his fear for almost revealing his secret.

“Y, yeah… Thanks for coming.”

The doors close, and silence returns to the hallway. Ryoma stands there for a moment, staring at the reflection in the metal. His own face looks back at him, tired, calm, with a hint of relieve.

“…Superpower, huh? Give me a break.”

He turns, and a shadow passes over his face as he thinks about his mother’s condition. A thought begins to take shape, what if the gift he carries came from her?

Yet, knowing his mother’s nature, he can see how the gift might have become a curse. Those sharp eyes, unless you learn how to control them, can be unbearable.

They don’t just see too much. They drain you, haunt you with visions that spill into waking life.

In Ryoma’s case, sometimes it drags his old traumas back from the dark. Even just watching things becomes exhausting.