VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

The elevator doors slide open on the first floor, and Ryoma steps out without a word. Reika follows quickly, matching his pace as they move toward the lobby.

“Ryoma,” she says, her voice tight but controlled, “my father isn’t trying to exploit you. He wants to help you succeed. You need to trust him a little.”

“I know,” Ryoma replies, still walking.

Reika frowns, frustration building. “Then why?” she presses. “Why give him a condition like that? A one-year ultimatum? No one can promise that.”

Ryoma keeps his eyes forward. “Because your father won’t be the one who contracts me,” he says evenly. “Someone else will. In another country. In another system. I’ll have to move, and I can’t just hand my life over to someone I’ve only met once.”

They reach the lobby, the space bright with afternoon light. Ryoma pushes open the glass door to the outside.

“That clause is the only thing that guarantees I still own my life,” he continues.

“But… one and a half years is too short,” Reika argues, voice cracking. “No one works with a timeline like that.”

Ryoma doesn’t respond. He keeps walking past the parking lot entrance, heading straight for the sidewalk instead.

Only when he reaches the edge of the plaza does he pause, debating whether to accept her usual offer of a ride. The hesitation lasts a second; then he turns toward the road.

Reika rushes after him. “Ryoma… wait, please. Let me drive you home.”

“No,” he says simply.

She steps in front of him again, breath unsteady. “Why not? Are you mad at me?”

He sidesteps her calmly and continues toward the curb. “I don’t hate you,” he says. “But I can’t just trust you.”

The words hit her harder than she expects. Her face tightens. “I’ve done everything for you. I helped the gym, helped you get close to my father, pushed him to take you seriously. And after all that, you still can’t trust me? Am I really that terrible to you?”

Ryoma raises a hand toward an approaching taxi. And Reika’s frustration spikes.

“Say something!” she snaps. “Don’t just ignore me like that!”

Ryoma finally turns. “We both know what happened the last time I let you into my space. You posted my secret training online. Not to harm me. Just out of ignorance.”

The taxi stops, door opening, and Ryoma steps inside without another glance.

Reika stands frozen, her chest burning, not from the mistake being mentioned, but from the way he said it so plainly, as if it were simply a fact of life.

***

The taxi eases into the sluggish August traffic, warm air breezes through the vents despite the AC fighting to keep up.

The driver glances at him through the mirror.

“Destination, sir?”

Ryoma doesn’t answer right away. He leans back, watching sunlight slide across the dashboard, replaying every moment of what happened in Logan’s office.

And the system is still nagging at him, has been like that since he left NSN headquarters.

>

>

Ryoma exhales, jaw tightening just a fraction.

>

>

Ryoma’s fingers curl slightly on his knee.

And the driver tries again.

“Sir? Your destination?”

Ryoma finally turns his head slightly toward the driver.

“Tamagawa,” he says. “Near the farthest water gate. Past the old levee.”

The driver nods.

The taxi shifts lanes, the city slowly opening into wider streets as they head toward the Tama River and that worn, half-forgotten neighborhood near the remote water gate.

Toward Aramaki’s humble hut.

A place far enough that Ryoma can breathe, and maybe, finally, say aloud the things he can’t tell anyone else.

***

Moments later…

Ryoma steps into Aramaki’s small front yard, but before he reaches the door he hears laughter drifting from the back, light and happy, completely untouched by the world he just walked away from.

He follows the sound around the hut. In the backyard, Aramaki is crouched over a freshly cleared garden bed, pulling weeds and smoothing the soil.

The lettuce rows are gone, the earth dark and damp. Nanako toddles nearby with a tiny watering can, splashing more on herself than the ground while Kaori tries to rein her in.

Ryoma pauses, watching the simple warm scene. Then Aramaki finally looks up, blinking in surprise before standing and wiping dirt from his hands.

“Ryoma? What brings you here?” he asks.

For a moment, Ryoma still can’t find the words.

Aramaki brushes the soil from his palms and straightens. “Come on,” he says gently. “Sit for a bit.”

He leads Ryoma to the small wooden terrace behind the house, the kind of old sun-worn engawa that creaks under their steps.

Kaori walks past him, smiling as if she’s genuinely happy to see him.

“I’ll make some tea,” she says, already heading inside.

Ryoma sits, letting the quiet settle before he asks, “What about the lettuce?”

Aramaki chuckles softly. “Sold it all. Enough to get us through winter.” He says it lightly, but Ryoma hears the exhaustion behind it.

Kaori returns with a tray, pouring cups for all three of them before settling beside her husband.

The conversation eases into safer ground, talking about training, small aches from the last fight, how wild the crowd had been that night.

For a while, it feels normal, a little pocket of life untouched by business, contracts, or ambition. But eventually Aramaki exhales, glancing at Ryoma with a hint of hesitation.

“About the champion’s camp…” he says quietly, eyes on the garden. “Even though the champ himself said he’d take the fight… his camp isn’t happy about it. And now even the other contenders are piling on.”

Ryoma nods with a small, dry chuckle, “I didn’t expect it to end like this either.”

Aramaki turns to him, more serious now. “So what’s your plan? I’ll be honest… If you’re stuck, the whole gym is stuck too.”

Ryoma lets the weight of it sit for a moment before taking a slow breath. Then he finally says it.

“I got an offer from Frank Donovan.”

Aramaki freezes. “Are you talking about that Donovan?”

Kaori leans forward, eyes sparkling. “Who? Who? Ryoma, what offer? Tell me!”

Aramaki answers for him, excitement bubbling. “The same manager who helped Marcus Hale become world champion. Do you understand what that means? Ryoma’s going to move to America.”

“America?” Kaori gasps, lighting up. “Really? Waaah! Ryoma, that’s incredible! You’re going to be a superstar!”

Ryoma only gives a calm, faint smile, unmoved by their energy. “I haven’t given him my answer.”

The joy drains from Aramaki’s face. “What? Why not? What’s holding you back, man?”

Ryoma stays silent, torn enough that Aramaki immediately reads it.

“You don’t want to leave us, do you?”

Ryoma finally lifts his head, giving a small, reluctant nod. But instead of lingering on the topic, he abruptly shifts gears, his expression brightening with sudden energy.

“You know Okubo-san? The old man just got a house from his company.”

Aramaki blinks. “Eeeeh, really?”

Ryoma nods. “And guess what, he’s also renewed his apartment lease for the next five years. Since he’s moving out, he wants to know if you two would like to take over the place.”

Aramaki and Kaori light up instantly, exchanging an excited look before peppering Ryoma with delighted questions.

Ryoma just watches their reaction with a soft smile, quietly satisfied. But the system inside his head takes it differently.

>

Ryoma’s eyebrow twitches, but he forces his smile to stay in place.

“Well… at least my mom can look out for them too when Aramaki’s not around.”

>

“Just shut up, would you?”