VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

By the time Ryoma and Aramaki reach Nakahara Gym, Kenta and Okabe are already inside, stretching along the mat near the wall mirrors.

Kenta rolls his shoulders lazily, humming under his breath. Okabe, however, moves with sharp precision, eyes fixed forward as if staring down an invisible opponent.

He does not joke around like usual. The absence of Ryohei lingers in the room like something unsaid. Or perhaps the weight pressing on Okabe since yesterday has not lifted.

Aramaki and Ryoma exchange a brief glance.

“I’m leaving him to you,” Ryoma says quietly.

Aramaki nods once and walks toward Okabe. “Morning,” he says lightly. “You look like you’re about to fight someone before breakfast.”

Okabe keeps stretching his hamstring. “Morning.”

“That’s it?” Aramaki smirks. “No insults today?”

Okabe exhales through his nose. “Not in the mood.”

Aramaki crouches slightly to match his level. “Good. Means you’re thinking.”

Okabe glances up briefly. “Thinking doesn’t win fights.”

“No,” Aramaki replies calmly. “But it stops you from losing them stupidly.”

The gym door slides open again. This time, Satoru steps in, jogging lightly in place as he adjusts his wrist wraps.

“Morning everyone,” he greets. “Oh, already warmed up?”

“Waiting on you,” Kenta says.

Only when Satoru arrives do they head out together for morning roadwork.

Despite having already finished their own run along the river earlier, Ryoma and Aramaki still follow them from behind, at a steady pace. They do not match the lead group stride for stride, but stay close enough to observe.

Hiroshi doesn’t need to oversee them. With Ryoma and Kenta there, the roadwork will run exactly as it should.

***

The gym falls quiet after they leave. Inside the office, Nakahara and Sera remain buried in paperwork for the upcoming event.

In the main area, Hiroshi checks equipment one by one; tightening ropes, inspecting gloves, testing the heavy bag chains with practiced hands.

Half an hour later, the entrance door opens again.

Masato Kurogane steps inside. With hair properly set, posture composed, he looks noticeably tidier than yesterday.

Hiroshi recognizes him immediately. “Oh, you are from yesterday. If you’re looking for Ryoma, he just left for roadwork.”

For a brief second, Kurogane notices the openness in Hiroshi’s face, the unguarded humility.

Somehow, Koragane’s instinct to angle the conversation for advantage flickers naturally inside him. But he immediately suppresses it. He adjusts his grip on the folder in his hand and bows slightly.

“I am not here to meet Ryoma. I would like to apply for the managerial position at Nakahara Gym, if you are currently considering one.”

He lifts the folder slightly. “I bring my résumé and professional record.”

Hiroshi blinks. “We do need a manager,” he admits slowly, now finally studying the man from head to toe. “But I don’t think we’ve actually advertised for one yet. We’re a bit… busy right now.”

“I understand,” Kurogane replies without impatience. “Even so, I would appreciate the opportunity to speak with the chairman directly.”

Hiroshi hesitates, then nods. “Alright. Wait here.”

He steps into the office and quietly explains the situation. Sera pauses mid-sentence, and Nakahara looks up from the documents on his desk.

They exchange a glance. Then both turn toward the door.

“Let him in,” Nakahara says calmly.

Moments later, Kurogane steps inside with controlled composure. He bows properly before speaking.

“Good morning.”

Sera rises from his chair and gestures toward the seat across from Nakahara’s desk.

“Please,” Sera says evenly as he remains standing beside Nakahara.

Nakahara does not immediately speak. He studies the man standing before him; well-dressed, composed, looks younger than Sera, yet carrying himself with practiced restraint.

“I heard that you are applying for the manager position here,” Nakahara says at last.

“Yes,” Kurogane replies without hesitation. He steps forward and places the folder carefully on the desk with both hands. “My full résumé and professional record are inside. Please review them at your convenience.”

There is no performance in his tone now, no embellishment, no urgency.

Nakahara opens the folder and begins scanning the documents in silence. Pages turn slowly as he sees dates, past negotiations, event records, and contract notes.

After a moment, he pauses on one line and glances briefly toward Sera, handing one document for him to read. Then he lifts his eyes back at Kurogane.

“You worked for Umemoto before?” he asks, gaze sharpening.

“Yes,” Kurogane answers evenly. “I managed his affairs until the recent defeat at EDION Arena.”

“Don’t tell me he kicked you out after our Ryohei beat him,” Nakahara states, more than asks.

Kurogane forces a smile. “I really don’t want to talk about it, but… That’s what happened.”

Nakahara’s eyes return to the résumé. “And now you are thinking about working for us?”

Kurogane keeps his posture straight. “After the separation, I sought opportunities elsewhere. I contacted several gyms and promotional offices. None have extended an offer.”

Sera’s eyebrow lifts slightly. “Our Ryohei beat Umemoto only recently. Are you certain you’ve looked that thoroughly in such a short time?”

Kurogane’s lips curve into a restrained smile. “I have made efforts,” he replies.

Sera leans lightly against the desk, grin widening. “It sounds a little fishy to me,” he says bluntly. “Don’t tell me they sent you here for some kind of revenge plot.”

Kurogane’s composure tightens. “No, there is no such arrangement.”

He exhales once before continuing. “The separation with Umemoto was not mutual. After the loss, sponsors demanded accountability. His team needed someone to absorb the criticism. I became the easiest scapegoat.”

Sera tilts his head slightly. “And now you want to join the very gym that defeated him,” he says, tone half teasing, half probing. “Almost like sending him a message that you’ve crossed over.”

Kurogane meets his gaze directly this time. “I… I just want to continue with my profession, trying not to end my career. That’s all.”

***

Meanwhile, Nakahara has stopped following the exchange between Sera and Kurogane altogether. His focus is locked on the résumé in his hands. Each time he finishes reviewing a document, he quietly passes it to Sera, wordlessly inviting him to examine it as well.

The profile is impressive for someone only twenty-eight. Before managing Umemoto, Kurogane had worked with a former national champion until his retirement, helping him transition into a stable sponsorship portfolio.

The rest of his clients were contenders, not titleholders, yet the financial columns show consistent growth, clean negotiations, and long-term sponsor retention. All of it, however, centers on individual boxers, not gyms, not promotional firms.

“I have never worked with a manager before,” Nakahara says calmly. “In my entire career as a trainer, I handled everything myself. I only became busy as a promoter recently… after Ryoma’s success at the Rookie Tournament.”

Kurogane nods respectfully. “That much, I am aware. You have become something of a sensation in the local boxing community, Nakahara-san. An underdog gym challenging established giants is a story that spreads quickly. Success like that attracts attention.”

Sera watches him carefully, measuring tone rather than praise, still not easily trusting the man before him.

Nakahara exhales quietly. “Even so, I am uncertain how to structure such cooperation. I do not know how to work with a manager. And I am not sure how much I can afford to pay.”

Kurogane inclines his head slightly, and then presses his opportunity. “Allow me to participate in your upcoming event at Yoyogi. You will require someone to coordinate sponsors, risk assessment, and contract layers. Use this period to evaluate me.”

He pauses just long enough. “For now, you may compensate me at the regional minimum wage. I do not mind.”

Sera lets out a short laugh. “You are willing to go that low despite your past achievements? Are you sure you are not here for some elaborate plot?”

“Please,” Kurogane replies, maintaining composure. “I’m just trying to rebuild. I will not remain at minimum wage indefinitely, of course. After the Yoyogi event, I hope you will reassess my value.”

Nakahara studies him in silence. The offer contains little risk, and zero arrogance. The young man is even willingly placing himself under evaluation rather than demanding authority.

After a long breath, Nakahara folds the résumé and sets it back on the desk. “I cannot decide this alone,” he says. “Please wait here until my fighters return from roadwork.”

Kurogane blinks. “You require your fighters’ agreement for this matter?”

“Of course,” Nakahara replies simply. “I put the fighters’ wellbeing above all else.”

Right then, voices echo from the entrance. The door slides open, and the group returns from their run, breathing heavily.

Ryoma steps inside, and as he reaches the bench, he notices Kurogane standing near Nakahara’s desk, looking toward him.

“Oh,” Ryoma says, casually walks toward the office. “You’re here.”

Nakahara looks at him. “You know this man?”

“Yes,” Ryoma answers. “I told him to come today.”

Nakahara nods once. “That settles it.”

Ryoma gives a short nod in return, and then turns away. “I’ll leave it to you old man.”

Kurogane watches the exchange unfold in stunned silence. He turns back to Nakahara, uncertainty finally breaking through his composure.

“So… I am hired?”

Nakahara nods calmly. “That is correct.”

“Just with his word, and it’s settled?” Kurogane asks again. “Nakahara-san… you really treat your champion very specially.”

“It is not about treating him specially,” Nakahara replies. “Ryoma currently owns forty-five percent of this gym and promotional firm. I require his agreement before making decisions of this scale.”

Kurogane blinks. For a long second, he simply stares.

A young champion, instead of being maneuvered or quietly controlled by his promoter, actually holds tangible authority within the very structure that surrounds him.

The ground beneath Kurogane’s assumptions shifts without warning.

Only now does he truly grasp the weight behind Ryoma’s words from yesterday, when he said he did not need the help of any manager.