VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Late morning light settles fully over the hotel as the situation inside the gym begins to stabilize. Coach Nakahara and Hiroshi remain behind, choosing to continue overseeing Kenta and Aramaki’s training. Ryoma, however, is led out of the gym with Kurogane, heading toward the lobby where the hotel’s in-house doctor is waiting.

The doctor finishes a brief follow-up check, his expression composed but firm as he looks at Ryoma’s shoulder and the bandaged graze along his ribs.

“You were fortunate,” she says. “But I strongly recommend a full examination at a hospital. CT scan, proper imaging. We need to rule out internal complications.”

Ryoma exhales lightly. “It’s really not that serious. My shoulder’s already back in place.”

“I understand,” the doctor replies, adjusting her glasses. “But this isn’t something we take chances with. Especially not after trauma like that.”

She pauses for a moment before adding, her tone more formal now. “You don’t need to worry about the cost. This incident occurred within hotel grounds. Your safety is our responsibility. All medical expenses will be covered.”

Ryoma glances briefly at Kurogane, then back at the doctor. A short silence passes before he nods.

“…Alright. We’ll get it checked.”

“Good,” the doctor says. “I’ll arrange an ambulance…”

“Sorry, but…” Kurogane cuts in politely. “Someone could hijack the ambulance and attack us on the journey.”

The doctor hesitates, clearly about to object again. But before she can speak, two figures approach from the side.

“We’ll handle the escort,”

one of them says, raising a hand slightly. “We can take you to the hospital with our van. There will be a police officer too.”

Both wear security uniforms, though more relaxed now, their posture less rigid than before. The first one steps forward, offering a small nod.

“My name is Tommy,” he introduces himself. “Surveillance team. My shift just ended, so… figured I’d tag along. Make sure you get there safely.”

The second one steps in almost immediately after, his energy noticeably different.

“Lorenzo,” he says, flashing a quick grin. “Also surveillance. And, uh… big fan. Actually, before we go… any chance we could get a photo together?”

Kurogane steps in without missing a beat. “Wait, wait… We appreciate the escort. But let’s hold off on pictures. Right now, our priority is getting him to the hospital safely.”

Lorenzo’s smile stiffens slightly. “Ah… right. Yeah, of course.”

The disappointment is there, even if he tries to hide it. Ryoma notices it, and feels bad about it.

“We can do it later,” he says in a calm tone.

Lorenzo’s expression lifts a little. But Kurogane cuts in again before it goes further.

“Yes, later… After the fight,” he says, his tone flat.

Lorenzo nods quickly, the excitement returning. “I’ll be looking forward to it. Thanks, man. I really can’t wait.”

With that settled, the two security personnel move ahead with quick coordination, exchanging brief words through their radios as they guide Ryoma and Kurogane toward the lobby entrance.

By the time they arrive, everything is already in place. Just outside the lobby doors, a sleek luxury van waits at the curb, engine running, positioned precisely for immediate departure.

There’s a cop sitting on the passenger seat, while the driver stands ready, having already stepped out to open the sliding door the moment he sees them approach.

The vehicle’s dark exterior catches the late morning light, polished and immaculate, as if it had been prepared well in advance so Ryoma wouldn’t have to take any unnecessary step.

Lorenzo gestures toward it with a small sense of pride. “A Mercedes-Benz V220d. Hotel service. Reserved for VIP guests like you.”

Kurogane leans slightly closer as they approach the van, his voice dropping into a quiet murmur in Japanese, just low enough to keep it between them.

“When did we become VIP guests?” His eyes flick briefly toward the vehicle, then back to Ryoma. “As far as I remember, Ramirez only set up a standard stay for us.”

Ryoma shrugs. “I bet they’re just trying to save face after that mess.”

Moments later, the van pulls away from the hotel entrance, merging into the morning traffic. Inside, the cabin remains calm, insulated from the noise outside, the earlier chaos now feeling distant, almost unreal.

***

Across the street, another engine comes to life. A worn, aging sedan eases out of the curb, blending easily into the flow of vehicles. It doesn’t rush, keeping a steady distance behind the luxury van as it begins to follow.

Inside, Archie sits in the passenger seat, one hand resting against his jaw where the impact from earlier still lingers. The swelling and bruises have started to set in, but still visible. His eyes remain fixed ahead, cold and focused despite the lingering haze in his vision.

Douglas drives, one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally pressing against his ribs, his expression tight with discomfort.

“Still think this is a good idea?” Douglas mutters under his breath. “After what just happened?”

“They’re heading somewhere,” Archie says, voice low. “We just need to know where.”

Douglas says nothing more. The car continues to trail behind, maintaining just enough distance to avoid suspicion.

Traffic carries them through the city, the van maintaining a steady pace as it moves along the main roads of Makati. From a distance, Douglas keeps the car in line with the flow, careful not to close the gap too much or fall too far behind.

After a few turns, the van finally signals and enters the wide driveway of Makati Medical Center, making its destination clear.

Douglas slows the car as he watches it disappear further inside, a quiet realization settling in.

“…Hospital,” he mutters.

Archie lifts a hand. “Stop here.”

Douglas pulls over along the side of the road, the engine idling as both men sit in silence for a brief second.

Archie reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. His thumb moves across the screen looking for Ramirez’s number before bringing it up to his ear.

The line connects, and the voice on the other end comes almost immediately, sharp and direct.

[How did it go?]

“I managed to dislocate his shoulder. He’s now taken to Makati Medical Center. Should I go in and finish it?”

There’s no answer right away. The silence stretches for a moment before Ramirez finally speaks, his voice quieter, as if turning the detail over in his head.

[…Dislocated shoulder. How bad?]

Archie exhales lightly, confidence slipping back into his tone.

“I trust my jiu-jitsu,” he says. “If he forces himself to fight, it’ll be like going in without his right arm. And if he tries to use it anyway, there’s a good chance the shoulder gives out again mid-fight.”

[Good. That’s more than enough. Don’t touch him again. You already made a mistake pulling a gun. Police will get involved.]

Archie’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt.

[I’m not risking you getting caught over this. Leave Manila. Now.]

Archie gives a small nod. “…Understood.”

He lowers the phone, letting out a slow breath as he leans back against the seat. Then he glances at Douglas and gestures lightly toward the road ahead.

“Let’s move,” he says.

Douglas shifts the car back into gear. “…Guess we’re done here,” he mutters.

Archie looks out the window as the car begins to pull away from the curb.

“…Yeah,” he says quietly. “Time to head back to Miami.”