VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Three weeks since the new routine, Ryoma steps onto the old mat near his bed. The scale blinks, flickers, and finally lands on 63.8 kilograms, a solid handshake between effort and science.

As dawn creeps through the curtain, he peels off his shirt and pants, then faces the mirror. The boy who once looked like he could be knocked over by a stiff breeze is gone.

What’s left is lean, but built like someone who’s been through arguments with gravity.

Then his Vision Grid begins its silent assessment.

***

[VISION GRID: UPDATED BODY SCAN ACTIVE]

Height: 173.6 cm

Weight: 63.8 kg

Body Fat: 9.2 %

BODY FRAME ANALYSIS

Chest (Pectorals):

Volume normalized to frame. Definition moderate–high.

Improved tension control and structural alignment with shoulder rotation.

Abdominals / Core:

High visibility maintained.

Core torque output: 84 % of optimal for height.

Lateral stability: 79 %.

Power transfer now synchronized with hip rotation; minor stiffness during recoil phase.

Arms (Biceps / Triceps / Forearms):

Muscle density increased, especially in triceps long head.

Extension speed reduced 1.8 % due to heavier mass, within acceptable trade-off.

Shoulders (Deltoids):

Impact stability improved → low injury risk threshold achieved.

Slight tension accumulation observed at right anterior line.

Thighs (Quadriceps / Hamstrings):

Significant hypertrophy in quadriceps (+1.4 kg functional mass).

Hamstring flexion strength at 88 % of optimal.

Spring efficiency (rest-to-burst output): 91 %.

Excellent endurance under repetitive drive; balanced eccentric control.

Calves (Gastrocnemius / Soleus):

Volume increased 0.8 kg total; symmetry 98 %.

Explosive rebound output: 89 % of optimal.

Ground absorption and recoil efficiency aligned with Lightweight mobility parameters.

OVERALL ADAPTATION SUMMARY:

Functional growth confirmed (+3.1 kg muscle mass gain since last full scan). Structural balance improved; no critical asymmetry. Speed-to-power ratio optimized for Lightweight class (index 0.93).

***

And then, the system also talks to his mind.

>

Ryoma snorts. “Please don’t start gossiping in my head.”

>

“Yeah,” he mutters, running a hand across his abdomen. “Still feels weird, though. Hope it doesn’t slow me down.”

It’s been over a month since the system started talking this way, and by now, Ryoma has stopped fighting it.

To anyone watching, he probably looks insane, arguing with a voice only he can hear. But to him, it’s almost normal now, like living with a stubborn imaginary friend lodged somewhere behind his thoughts.

He pulls his clothes back on, and then heads downstairs. The kitchen smells faintly of detergent and the dry scent of rice. He moves with habit, measuring portions, cracking eggs, setting the pan to heat.

Between the quiet gaps of cooking, he picks up his phone and scrolls through the feed. Then a headline catches his eye.

Kirizume Boxing Gym Announces: Renji Kuroiwa Vacates Japan Lightweight Title, Moves To World Stage.

Ryoma’s thumb freezes above the screen. Intrigued, he opens the article and reads.

According to the statement, Renji Kuroiwa has officially relinquished his Japanese Lightweight belt to pursue an international campaign.

His next fight is already confirmed, a ten-round match against Elliot Graves, a 26-year-old English contender currently ranked 9th in the WBA Lightweight division.

The photo beneath shows Renji and Kirizume shaking hands before a row of sponsors’ banners, both smiling like the future’s already secure.

The article’s polite tone doesn’t hide the subtext; Renji’s moving on, the belt’s up for grabs.

And then come the comments:

@GloveJunkie89: So Renji’s running away, huh? I remember Ryoma challenging him once during a rookie fight. Funny timing, he moves up to Lightweight, and suddenly the champ’s going international. Yeah, sure.

@BoxingNerd_Japan: You think it’s a coincidence? I heard they sparred once before the rookie tournament. Word is, Renji got handled.

@KirishimaGymFan: Oh come on, that was just sparring. People read too much into gym stories.

@JabsTheory: Still, he could’ve defended once more before leaving. Feels like he’s dodging something.

@RyoNation: Or maybe he’s just better now. Let the man chase world rankings, damn.

@OldTimer89: Lol half of you weren’t even around when Renji was climbing through the bracket and secured that title. The guy earned his shot.

Ryoma just exhales through his nose and sets the phone down beside the stove. He doesn’t care who says what. Renji’s decision is his own.

For Ryoma, what matters is the belt, whoever’s holding it. If Renji’s moving on, so be it. He will just take it from whoever comes next.

***

Back at the gym, the day starts like any other, until Aki bursts through the doorway, eyes bright as always.

“Ryoma! Did you saw Renji’s press conference? Everyone’s talking about it! Some fans are saying his move to world stage is because of you. The whole rivalry thing!”

The room stills. Kenta looks up from the heavy bag. Okabe, mid-stretch, lets his hands fall. Even Hiroshi pauses for a second, glancing over from the mitt rack.

Ryoma exhales. “Yeah, I read it.”

“Oh! They also announced the new lineup for the All Japan Rookie Finals. And Ryoma, your spot’s been filled by Serrano. You going to watch?”

Ryoma waves it off, gaze fixed on the floor. “It has nothing to do with me anymore.”

***

However…

On the night of the All Japan Rookie Finals, the crowd at Korakuen Hall has no idea that a figure in a heavy black jacket stands quietly among them, half his face hidden behind a mask, eyes locked on the ring like a secret he’s not supposed to care about.

It’s Ryoma, the one who swore he had zero interest in this rookie nonsense. He stands on the mezzanine that hugs the upper walls, watching the ring like a vulture with better posture and worse intentions.

Beside him, Aramaki folds his arms, a grin creeping up like he’s been waiting all night for this.

“You said you weren’t gonna watch this.”

Ryoma doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away.

“Shut up and watch,” he says.

Korakuen Hall isn’t as loud as it was during the East Block Finals. The crowd fills maybe three-quarters of the seats, leaving blue patches of emptiness scattered through the upper rows.

The Featherweight bout is already in progress. The crowd reacts, but half-heartedly. No one’s picking sides tonight. They just want to see someone fall.

Then the ring announcer’s tone shifts, time for the Super Featherweight Final, the one Aramaki thinks Ryoma came to see.

“Finally, we get to find out if he can fill the spot you left behind.”

Serrano appears from the blue corner’s aisle, hood up, head low, slow steps. And the boos begin, sharp and immediate.

“Go home, substitute trash!”

“You don’t belong here!”

His reputation has followed him, the arrogant outsider, the man who got here by accident. But Serrano doesn’t react. He walks on, steady, no grin this time, no dance, no showmanship.

Even from the mezzanine, Ryoma notices something different in the way Serrano shadowbox in the corner. Now he can’t help but feels curious.

Then from the red corner, Yoshiya Hiroyuki appears with his team. Kobe’s far and this is Tokyo territory. But there’s still respect in the crowds’ greeting.

Hiroyuki moves with the calm of someone who doesn’t need applause to exist. When he starts to shadowbox in the corner, the noise drains away completely. Every punch cuts the air with surgical precision, no wasted motion.

“That guy’s sharp,” Aramaki says.

Ryoma nods. “Yeah. But if you were the one in there, you’d take him by six or seven rounds.”

Aramaki laughs softly. “Please. I didn’t even survive four rounds. And whose fault was that?”

Ryoma keeps watching the ring. Then, quietly, “Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Aramaki glances at him. “You think I need your pity just ’cause you dropped me? Come on.”

Ryoma shakes his head. “Not pity. I won that fight, but then I just forfeited it.”

Aramaki exhales. “We both know why you had to.”

Still, Ryoma’s voice doesn’t change. “If I hadn’t entered as Super Featherweight, maybe you’d be the one fighting tonight. Against Hiroyuki… I think you’d have a better chance.”

Aramaki doesn’t reply. The compliment lands somewhere complicated. It’s the strange feeling after hearing what he always wanted and never expected to.