VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Tachibana Boxing Gym, Utsunomiya, Tochigi Prefecture.

The late-June afternoon light slants through the narrow locker-room windows. The air carries that familiar mix of sweat and summer moisture as Sinichi Yanagimoto sits on the wooden bench, sweater damp against his back, hair dripping steadily onto the tiles.

He leans forward with his phone in hand, replaying a clip of Shimamura Suzuki’s most recent fight. Shimamura’s movement is crisp, sharp, and calculated, the kind of fighter who doesn’t give away openings for free.

Sinichi watches without blinking. Only a month ago, he took the Japanese Lightweight title for the first time in his career. Yet the relief hasn’t fully settled.

Now the new contender list is out, and with it comes names he hasn’t faced… names like Shimamura Suzuki, now entering his division as the seventh-ranked contender.

He exhales slowly and switches tabs. But then, a headline fills his screen:

“Ryoma Takeda Calls Out Lightweight Champion After Beating Sekino.”

Sinichi frowns. He’s heard the name before, but never bothered to follow. Even now, he ignores it, chuckling wearily. A kid with fewer than ten fights shouldn’t be anywhere near his radar.

Then he scrolls, but stops at one headline.

“Champion Might Be Avoiding Me,” Takeda Says.

Finally, something that’s enough to irritate him, but he forces himself to stay rational. It has to be media bait, manufactured rivalry sells after all.

He taps the article anyway, expecting the usual sensational garbage. But some lines stop him cold. Analysts praising Ryoma’s grit and composure. Others calling him the strongest rookie in years. Several outright saying he has the tools to threaten the new champion.

Sinichi feels a faint tension in his shoulders. He tries to shake it off. But curiosity wins, and he searches for Ryoma’s recent fight.

“Who’s the boxer he fought before…?” he mutters. “Sekino…?”

However, before he finds the video, he stumbles upon the fight with Leonardo Serrano that went viral last year.

“Whaa… thirteen million… in less than a year?”

Sinichi leans in, watches the video, and swallowing hard. His heartbeat ticks faster, part unease, part challenge.

Something about Ryoma’s presence in the ring stirs a primal alertness he hasn’t felt since he was chasing the belt. Even the former champion, Renji Kuroiwa, never gave this kind of dread.

Suddenly, a gym mate enters the locker room. “Sinichi, Coach Yoshizawa’s looking for you. He’s with some reporters.”

Sinichi immediately locks the phone and hides it, nodding with a forced smile. He pushes himself up, and heads out, the air feeling heavier on his skin than before.

Later he finds Coach Yoshizawa standing near the ring, surrounded by four local journalists carrying recorders and half-folded notepads.

“Sinichi,” the Coach calls. “These guys want a few lines from the champion. Don’t keep them waiting.”

Sinichi straightens his posture, forcing the flicker of unease from the Serrano video out of his mind.

One of the journalists grins. “Yanagimoto-san, rough session today?”

Sinichi gives a polite laugh. “Every session’s rough when Coach is watching.”

Another reporter leans forward. “Have you seen the new contender list yet?”

“I saw it,” Sinichi replies. He keeps his tone relaxed, even though his stomach tightens at the memory of Ryoma’s precision… and Shimamura’s ferocity.

“So?” a younger journalist asks, teasing. “You’re the champion now. What do you think? Anyone in there giving you trouble sleeping yet?”

Sinichi shakes his head lightly. “If I lose sleep, Coach will make me run laps until sunrise. But no… every fighter in that list is strong. They’ve all earned those spots. And it keeps me sharp.”

“Confident, but humble,” someone murmurs with a grin. “Good balance.”

Another steps closer. “How do you feel about your first title defense? Nervous? Excited? Ready to prove yourself?”

Sinichi draws a slow breath. “I worked hard to get here, but defending… that’s a different kind of pressure. A good kind, though. I’m ready for whoever the JBC names.”

A reporter in the back, the one with the mischievous smirk, raises his recorder. “Speaking of contenders… have you heard what Ryoma Takeda said after his fight? Something about the champion might be scared of him?”

The other journalists perk up instantly, waiting for a reaction. But Sinichi keeps his expression blank, almost politely confused.

“…Takeda?” he repeats. “Who’s that?”

They chuckle, some awkwardly, some delighted by the bait.

“Rookie kid,” the mischievous reporter supplies. “Six wins. Internet seems to love him. Says he’s coming for your belt.”

Sinichi scratches his cheek with a sheepish smile. “Ah… I see. Sorry, I haven’t really followed the rookies lately. Been too focused on my own training.”

Before the reporter can push further, Coach Yoshizawa steps in, tone sharp as flint.

“That boy’s just talking big because the cameras are pointed at him,” Yoshizawa says, arms crossing. “He hasn’t seen anything of the boxing world except the little pond he’s swimming in.”

The reporters laugh, scribbling faster.

“We’re ready to fight anyone the JBC names,” the coach continues, voice rising with a hint of arrogance. “But a kid like that? He needs to do more than pick up a few wins and shout at the clouds. Let him prove himself first. Then…”

He taps Sinichi’s shoulder.

“Then he can think about speaking the champion’s name.”

The journalists nod, delighted, some at the headline they just earned, some at the tension forming between the two names.

Sinichi forces a small smile, the image of a calm, grounded champion. But somewhere under that expression, the memory of Serrano…

The memory of Ryoma’s speed, finesses, and composure…

The way the crowd screamed his name…

Still knots faintly in his gut.

***

It doesn’t take long for Yoshizawa’s sharp tongue to reach Nakahara’s office.

Two days later, the morning newspapers lie scattered across the desk; headlines bold, phrasing exaggerated, the media doing what the media always does:

“Champion Responds: ’Let the Kid Prove Himself First.’”

“Coach Yoshizawa Dismisses Takeda: ’Still Swimming in a Small Pond.’”

“Tension Brewing? Rookie Sensation vs. Reigning Champion.”

Nakahara reads them in silence, jaw tightening with every line.

It isn’t the rivalry angle that bothers him. Rivalries sell fights, build hype, he knows that.

But it’s the tone; the way Yoshizawa talked down on Ryoma, the way the reporters twisted it even further.

And of course, the way this paints the coming negotiations.

If he sends a challenge now, it’ll look like they’re chasing clout stirred by the media, or worse, trying to force the champion’s hand out of pride.

“Coach…” Hiroshi breaks the silence from beside the desk, holding another newspaper under his arm. “They’re making it look worse every hour.”

Meanwhile, Sera sits on the sofa across the room, arms crossed, foot tapping the floor in uneasy rhythm.

“The media’s having a field day,” he says. “They smell blood.”

Nakahara exhales through his nose, long and slow. “I’m not happy about Yoshizawa running his mouth. Not about the kid. And not about us.”

Hiroshi steps closer, placing the newspaper on the desk. “So… what now? This makes the title shot harder, doesn’t it?”

Nakahara looks away from the headlines, staring instead at the window, where morning light creeps through the blinds.

“Of course it does,” he says quietly. “Yoshizawa just gave the champion an easy excuse. They’ll say Ryoma’s too green, that he needs more fights, more years. They’ll hide behind that.”

Sera sighs. “So it won’t be easy.”

Nakahara lets out a humorless chuckle. “Nothing about getting a title shot is easy.”

He taps the newspaper once with his finger.

“But I won’t let this stop us.”

Hiroshi raises an eyebrow. “Maybe it’s time to pay NSN a visit.”

Nakahara nods weakly. “Actually… I’ve made an appointment with Logan Rhodes himself.”

He stands, picks up his jacket from the back of his chair, and grabs his electric bike scouter helmet.

“Sera, come with me,” he says as he heads toward the door. “And Hiroshi… I’m leaving the gym to you.”