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VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Chapter 400: The Moment Slips Away · Nov 03, 2026

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Chapter List (1045)

Page number / 21

351 Chapter 351: The Double-Edged Sword 2026-11-03
352 Chapter 352: What Each Corner Protects 2026-11-03
353 Chapter 353: Ugly vs Beauty 2026-11-03
354 Chapter 354: Saved for Later 2026-11-03
355 Chapter 355: At the Edge of Focus 2026-11-03
356 Chapter 356: The Dark Pressure 2026-11-03
357 Chapter 357: What Is Worth Betting On 2026-11-03
358 Chapter 358: What the Record Doesn’t Show 2026-11-03
359 Chapter 359: The Moment It Stops Being Your Fight 2026-11-03
360 Chapter 360: On the Edge of Sanity 2026-11-03
361 Chapter 361: Tight. Tight. Tight 2026-11-03
362 Chapter 362: Beast Unchained 2026-11-03
363 Chapter 363: The Line He Crossed 2026-11-03
364 Chapter 364: A State You Can’t Force 2026-11-03
365 Chapter 365: The Pendulum, Solved 2026-11-03
366 Chapter 366: Respect, Paid in Blood 2026-11-03
367 Chapter 367: Out of Sync 2026-11-03
368 Chapter 368: Rite of Ancension 2026-11-03
369 Chapter 369: Two Undefeated, One Record Breaks Tonight 2026-11-03
370 Chapter 370: When the Crown Meets the Storm 2026-11-03
371 Chapter 371: Recalibration 2026-11-03
372 Chapter 372: The Storm on Hold 2026-11-03
373 Chapter 373: Stealing Tricks? No, Stealing Tempo 2026-11-03
374 Chapter 374: Playing Between Beats 2026-11-03
375 Chapter 375: Three Seconds Without Air 2026-11-03
376 Chapter 376: The Weight Carried by a Champion 2026-11-03
377 Chapter 377: What Those Ten Second Took 2026-11-03
378 Chapter 378: No Safe Space in the Ring 2026-11-03
379 Chapter 379: At the Cruel King’s Feet 2026-11-03
380 Chapter 380: Just a Few Steps Away 2026-11-03
381 Chapter 381: Stolen Space 2026-11-03
382 Chapter 382: Mercy, So They Say 2026-11-03
383 Chapter 383: Was It Really Her? 2026-11-03
384 Chapter 384: Non-Negotiable Conditions 2026-11-03
385 Chapter 385: Strength Seen by a Child 2026-11-03
386 Chapter 386: Habit Without Intention 2026-11-03
387 Chapter 387: The First Real Offer 2026-11-03
388 Chapter 388: Lines Drawn 2026-11-03
389 Chapter 389: In Good Faith 2026-11-03
390 Chapter 390: When the Surprise Changed Hands 2026-11-03
391 Chapter 391: A Reply Without Memory 2026-11-03
392 Chapter 392: Authority Without Consent 2026-11-03
393 Chapter 393: Where Respect Reveals Itself 2026-11-03
394 Chapter 394: Not as Humble as They Look 2026-11-03
395 Chapter 395: You Can’t Run Forever 2026-11-03
396 Chapter 396: Only Ryoma 2026-11-03
397 Chapter 397: When Silence Is Defiance 2026-11-03
398 Chapter 398: Polished Smiles, Sharpened Knives 2026-11-03
399 Chapter 399: No Room for Denial 2026-11-03
400 Chapter 400: The Moment Slips Away 2026-11-03

Round five begins, and Higuchi’s expression hasn’t changed, but something sharper lives behind it now, a thin line of intent beneath the calm.

He probes with the jab again, precise, almost patient, and waits for the answer he’s come to expect.

“Higuchi opens with the jab again,” a commentator says.

But the jabs are too light, snapping against Okabe’s guard without stunning him, without pushing him into that familiar reckless answer.

Okabe absorbs it and stays disciplined, gloves high, feet steady.

“More shots coming in,” the first commentator continues.

“And Okabe stays tight,” the other adds. “No big reaction there.”

Higuchi presses forward anyway, choosing not to linger on it, and begins to rake points instead, clean efficient blows that land, and then disappear before Okabe can answer back.

Jab. Cross. Another jab.

Dsh! Dsh! Dug.

And slides out.

The punches aren’t heavy, but they land often enough to stir the crowd. Higuchi grows more active, peppering Okabe’s face as the noise swells with every scoring shot.

“He’s staying busy!”

“Yeah, that volume’s adding up!”

Higuchi keeps punching, comfortable in the rhythm, convinced the openings will keep presenting themselves as long as he maintains the pace.

But as he grows a little too full of himself, the space between them closes. His feet linger half a step longer than before, his hands busy but his exits less clean.

Okabe seizes it, and drives a short brutal shot into the ribs.

Thud!

Higuchi’s body jerks. His face tightens for a split second before he snaps a jab in reflex and slides out of range.

As he walks sideway, he shakes his head and grins, exaggerated, dismissive, as if the punch barely registered.

The crowd responds to the show.

“That one got his attention,” a commentator says.

“Higuchi says no,” the other replies, “but you could see the reaction.”

The grin is just bait. And Okabe bites it, lunging forward, trying to close the gap before it disappears, but…

Dsh! Bam!

A jab cracks into his face, and a straight right follows immediately, clean down the center, snapping Okabe’s head back.

“Ooooh! That was crisp!”

“Perfect one-two!”

Okabe answers the only way he knows how.

“He’s throwing big now,” one commentator says as the gloves whistle past.

“He’s looking for an answer,” the other adds. “Blindly.”

He swings back hard, reckless, two wide hooks tearing through empty air, trying to claw something back, or just to scare the opponent away.

But the response comes too sudden, unexpected. Instead of laying a counter, Higuchi slides out of range as Okabe’s punches cut nothing but space.

And he blinks. “Wait… that was my chance.”

Okabe is still there after the two swings. And Higuchi strikes back…

Dsh! Dsh!

Another sharp one-two snaps into Okabe’s face, clean and jolting. And the impact flares Okabe’s instincts all over again.

Like before, Okabe answers with wild hooks. One. Two. Then a third, thrown wider than the rest.

Higuchi ducks the first. Slides past the second. For the third…

“This is it… Now.”

His rear foot coils, right glove lifting for the counter, compact and loaded. What he doesn’t know is that the third hook isn’t meant to land. It’s there to draw that very punch.

Okabe sees it coming and doesn’t retreat.

“Bring it on.”

His right knuckles clench, jaw tightening as he braces for the hit.

Both fighters throw at the same time; Higuchi firing a straight down the center, Okabe swinging the hook from the outside.

Dsh!

Higuchi’s punch lands first, but Okabe keeps his stance firm, driving through the impact, and the hook crashes into Higuchi’s temple.

BLARR!!!

Sweat bursts into the air, scattering under the lights.

“Oh…!”

“They both landed!”

“Right on top of each other!”

For a split second, both men freeze, stunned on their feet, balance wavering as the crowd roars at the collision.

“Wait… Okabe’s still swinging!”

Another hook comes, heavy and unrefined.

Higuchi tries to move, pulling his head away. But his legs give, and he drops to one knee instead.

“He’s down!”

“Higuchi’s down!”

In the blue corner, Nakahara’s fist tightens at his side, knuckles whitening before he realizes he’s done it.

The arena erupts in disbelief. After being controlled since the opening round, after eating shot after shot, it’s Okabe who scores the first knockdown, something no one in the building thought they’d see.

***

The red corner erupts into motion, and for the first time tonight, it isn’t confident.

Ueno Shimei has both hands on his head, fingers digging into his hair as he stares at the ring in disbelief.

“How did he eat that?” he mutters. “How did he take the counter and stay up?”

In the ring, Okabe is still standing, but barely. Blood streaks down from his nose, smeared across his lips and staining the red edge of his mouthpiece.

His chest heaves violently, shoulders jerking with each breath, eyes unfocused yet stubbornly open.

The referee steps in front of him, hands raised. “Blue corner. Go.”

Okabe nods and turns. His first step is awkward, legs slow to answer, feet dragging as if the canvas has thickened beneath him.

He sways once, catches himself, and keeps moving, every stride a visible effort.

“Look at Okabe,” a commentator says. “He’s hurt. He’s really hurt.”

“But he’s still on his feet,” the other adds. “I don’t know how, but he is.”

The referee’s count begins. But somehow, it feels so damn slow.

One…

Two…

Ueno lunges to the edge of the canvas, shouting now, voice sharp and urgent.

“Up! Higuchi! Get up! I know you’re fine. Just get up!”

Higuchi stirs, gloves pressing against the mat. He lifts his head, blinking hard, jaw clenched.

Three…

“He shouldn’t even be standing after that exchange,” a commentator says. “That was brutal.”

Four…

Higuchi plants a foot. His knee shakes as he forces himself upright, legs trembling beneath him as he rises, swaying in place.

“There he is,” the other commentator says, disbelief bleeding into his voice. “But he’s hurt too.”

Six…

Higuchi stands by sheer will alone, eyes glassy, and his balance uncertain. He is upright, but far from steady, as the referee steps closer to assess him.

Seven…

The ref comes to him, searching. “Are you okay? Can you still fight?”

Higuchi doesn’t answer, but oddly, the ref lifts his gloves, waits for a moment.

And then…

“Box!”

He resumes the fight anyway.

“Higuchi is still there! But for how long?”

“There’s still more than a minute before the bell. Can he survive this round?”

Okabe leaves the corner and goes forward anyway. Pain screams through him with every step, but he ignores it, lets it blur into something distant and useless.

This is it… my last chance.

Beat him. Win this. And it’s a title shot next.

There’s no room left for caution, no future past the next exchange.

He swings upstairs without picking targets, arms cutting wild arcs through the air, trying to smash the moment apart before it slips away.

Higuchi shells up, gloves tight against his head, elbows tucked, riding the storm as best he can. Some shots thud into forearms, others glance off the guard hard enough to twist his body sideways.

He stumbles back a step, then another, boots scraping as he gives ground.

And Okabe doesn’t let him breathe. He keeps coming, chest heaving, teeth bared, driving Higuchi all the way to the ropes.

“Stay tight!” Ueno shouts from the red corner. “Just endure it. Keep your hands up!”

From the other side, Nakahara’s voice cuts through. “Okabe, calm down! Pick your shots!”

Something clicks. Okabe fully aims the next swing. A left hook clips the ear.

Dsh!

Then a quick uppercut digs in, mostly caught, but it shifts the guard just enough. Okabe steps with it and snaps a hook into the temple.

Dsh!

Higuchi absorbs it, guard snapping back up on instinct.

Okabe goes downstairs. A double left hooks slam into the ribs, forcing Higuchi’s elbows to pinch inward. But he keeps the guard stayed high, stubborn, and sealed.

That’s when Okabe loads up and drives everything he has into the midsection.

BOMM!

Higuchi exhales sharply and collapses to his knees.

“He’s down again!”

“Another knockdown!”

But the roar dies halfway. The referee steps in, waving it off, arm slicing through the air.

“No! Low blow!” Then he turns to Okabe. “Watch your punches!”

Okabe freezes, staring at referee, blinking hard. “What?” Blood drips from his nose as he shakes his head. “That wasn’t low blow.”

In the blue corner, Nakahara and Sera look at each other, confused, searching each other’s faces for confirmation.

Ryoma just explodes, shouting hard, face twisted with fury.

“Are you fucking blind?! That was clean! You can’t fool my eyes. I saw it! That wasn’t low!”

The referee doesn’t look at him. Instead, he turns fully toward Higuchi, holding up a hand to signal time, treating the blow as foul, not damage.

Both commentators trail off as the replay rolls, an uneasy half-laugh slipping in as they watch it again. Neither sounds convinced.

“Well… the referee’s ruling it a low blow.”

“That’s the call, and that means a break here. Higuchi can take up to five minutes to recover.”

Higuchi stays on his knees, breathing hard, drawing the moment out as the crowd murmurs.

Okabe waits in place, watching the opportunity drain out of the moment while his opponent is allowed all the time he needs to recover.

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