VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Ryoma reaches up and begins loosening the strap of one glove, tugging it free with his teeth as he turns slightly toward Satoru.

“Keep going,” he says. “Shadowboxing. Same rhythm.”

Satoru nods immediately and resumes the pendulum motion, his feet rocking left and right across the canvas as he flicks light jabs into the empty air.

But before Ryoma can fully remove the glove, Sergei lifts a hand lightly.

“No need,” the Russian says. “Don’t let me interrupt your training.”

His tone is calm, almost casual. Then he turns his head slightly toward the edge of the gym floor where Sera is already approaching.

“I’d like to speak with Kenji Nakahara.”

Sera pauses for a brief moment, then bows his head slightly in acknowledgment.

“Of course,” he says. “Please allow me.”

Sergei gives a short nod. Without another word, the two of them begin walking toward the office.

Ryoma tightens the strap of his glove again instead of removing it. For a few seconds, his gaze follows Sergei’s back as the older man walks toward the office with Sera.

He already understands the purpose of Sergei’s visit to this gym. The man would not come all the way here without a reason, and the reason is obvious enough.

After the talk he had with Elliot back at the Yoyogi, it is only natural that someone from Elliot’s side would start making a move.

Still, Ryoma doubts that the matter will be complicated. Nakahara will handle whatever discussion needs to happen, and Kurogane will deal with the rest of the arrangements.

With that thought, Ryoma exhales softly through his nose and turns his attention back to the ring.

Inside the office, the moment Nakahara looks up from the sofa, his expression stiffens slightly. The surprise is impossible to hide. He recognizes the man almost immediately.

“Ah… Mister Volkov,” Nakahara says, pushing himself to his feet. His English arrives slowly and somewhat uncertainly. “Please… come in. Sit, sit.”

Sergei inclines his head politely as he steps further inside.

At the same time, Kurogane moves almost instinctively. The coffee table in front of the sofa is still covered with documents and his open laptop.

He gathers the scattered scouting reports in quick, efficient motions, stacking them neatly before sliding the laptop aside to make space.

Sera remains by the door for a moment before speaking. “I will prepare some drinks.”

Nakahara immediately waves a hand. “No, no. Ask Hiroshi to do it, and come back here. I need your help to translate.”

Sera nods once. But before the arrangement can go any further, Sergei raises a hand slightly.

“It’s all right,” he says.

But the words do not come in English. They come in Japanese.

“Shinpai shinaide kudasai,” Sergei continues calmly. “Watashi mo Nihongo de hanasu yō ni shimasu. Mada kanpeki janai desu ga.”

The room goes quiet. Sera blinks slowly. Nakahara stares at Sergei for a moment, clearly caught off guard.

“…You can speak Japanese?” Nakahara asks, this time in his own language without hesitation.

Sergei nods. “I started learning when I first came here, before Elliot’s fight with Renji. I enjoy learning languages. Chinese, Korean, Japanese… It helps me a lot.”

Sera lets out a small breath, impressed. Nakahara slowly nods as well, an awkward smile lingering on his face. For a moment he seems unsure what to say next, still slightly amazed by the unexpected fluency.

“Ah… that is very impressive,” Nakahara says.

Sera clears his throat after a moment. “Then I will excuse myself for a moment and prepare the drinks.”

This time Nakahara does not stop him. Sera bows slightly before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

For a few seconds, the quiet returns. The silence that follows is not hostile, only slightly uncomfortable.

Nakahara shifts in his seat and folds his hands together, searching for a proper way to begin. “Traveling all the way from London must be tiring. So…”

Sergei shakes his head slightly. “I came from Korea. One of my featherweight fighters had a match there last week.”

“Ah… I see,” Nakahara says, nodding a few times.

Sergei exhales softly. “I have also been hearing the rumors. About Elliot and Ryoma. Korea is close enough to Japan. So I thought I should come here myself. Perhaps we can talk about it.”

Nakahara nods slowly, his hands resting together on his lap as he searches for the most appropriate response.

“Yes, we have been discussing that possibility,” he says. “Now that both of them are ranked, it seems like a natural conversation for people to start having.”

Sergei acknowledges this with a slight nod, as though the idea does not surprise him in the least.

“That is understandable,” he says, his eyes remain steady on Nakahara as he continues. “However, before anything moves too far in that direction, I would like to ask something. What exactly is the purpose of arranging that fight?”

The question causes Nakahara to hesitate for a moment. He shifts slightly in his seat, clearly aware that the answer sounds simpler than the question itself.

“They respect each other,” he says at last. “Both of them want the opportunity. In this sport that alone is often enough reason.”

Sergei inclines his head slightly, accepting the answer without dismissing it. “If that is the only reason, then perhaps it should not be arranged as a ranking bout.”

That suggestion makes Nakahara blink in mild surprise. “You mean a non-ranking match?”

“Possibly,” Sergei replies evenly. He shifts his posture slightly, still relaxed but now speaking with a more deliberate clarity. “What concerns me is the implication of making it a world-ranking fight.”

Nakahara leans back a little, his brows drawing together. “Elliot is ranked fourth and Ryoma seventh. Under normal circumstances, that would naturally lead toward a ranking match. The winner could move closer to a title eliminator.”

Sergei listens patiently, then gives a thoughtful nod. “Yes, that is the usual logic. But the situation surrounding the championship right now is not as straightforward as it appears from the rankings.”

He folds his hands loosely together as he continues speaking. “Let us imagine for a moment that Ryoma wins. His ranking would rise, depending on how the board moves. From there the next step would normally be a title eliminator, and after that the obvious goal would be a championship challenge against Celeb Mercer.”

Nakahara nods again, following the reasoning. Sergei’s expression, however, remains calm and slightly distant.

“I have already attempted to pursue it with Elliot,” Sergei continues. “We made several approaches to Mercer’s camp. But the conversation simply never moved forward.”

Kurogane’s eyes narrow slightly at that. He has followed enough boxing news to notice how many top fighters lately seem more concerned with preserving their perfect records than proving themselves in dangerous fights.

Celeb Mercer is widely known as one of the fighters who started that trend. And the system now seems to move quietly in his favor, helping preserve his perfect record while protecting the throne that’s slowly shaping his legend.

“At this level,” Sergei continues without raising his voice, “boxing is not only about who deserves the opportunity. It is also about who controls the stage where those opportunities appear.”

Nakahara listens carefully now, sensing that the conversation has moved beyond the simple topic of one match.

Sergei gestures lightly toward the gym outside the office. “Ryoma is not only a fighter. He is also building his own promotional structure. If someone like him becomes a champion, he will not be dependent on the traditional networks. He will not be easily controlled.”

Nakahara’s expression tightens slightly as the implication begins to form.

“If Ryoma seizes the throne,” Sergei continues, “the balance of power could shift away from the places that have controlled this sport for decades. And the people who currently benefit from that arrangement will not welcome the change. They prefer the system exactly as it is.”

Kurogane slowly folds his arms, understanding the direction of the argument now.

“For fans in this country that would sound like a victory,” Sergei says. “But for the people who currently dominate the business side of boxing, it represents a loss of control.”

He lets that thought settle for a moment before continuing.

At that time, Sera quietly returns to the office carrying a small tray with several cups of coffee. He sets them carefully on the table one by one, the soft clink of porcelain briefly filling the silence.

“Please, help yourself,” he says politely to Sergei.

Sergei acknowledges him with a small nod. Only after Sera excuses himself and leaves the room does he shift his attention back to Nakahara.

“That is the situation I am beginning to see lately,” Sergei continues.

He finally leans back again, his tone returning to the same calm politeness with which the conversation began.

“Rather than wasting your time pursuing a fight with Elliot,” Sergei says, “you would be better off finding another path. Perhaps try your luck with the IBF or the WBO.”

“Not even the WBA?” Kurogane asks.

Sergei simply shakes his head. This time he offers no explanation, none of the careful reasoning he had offered earlier.

Kurogane’s eyes narrow slightly. Sergei has been unusually open throughout the conversation, laying out the realities of the system. Yet this one subject is dismissed with nothing more than a brief shake of the head.

“Now you’ve made me curious,” Kurogane says slowly. “Perhaps it has something to do with the current WBA champion, Aleksandr Volkov… Mister Sergei Volkov.”

Sergei grows quiet for a moment before answering. “He is my son.”

The admission settles heavily in the room.

“And unfortunately,” Sergei continues, “his career is tied to Dmitri Sergeyevich Erzhanov. In much the same way Jackson Rhodes influences the WBC landscape to protect Celeb Mercer, Erzhanov operates within the WBA system… to protect my son’s position at the top.”