VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

His pendulum rhythm slowly returns afterward, the cadence becoming calmer now, almost lazy again. He continues swaying lightly while circling at long range, but no punches come out this time.

And somehow, Shimamura stops attacking too. He simply waits at the center ring with countless openings exposed, both gloves hanging loosely while his body sways subtly beneath the arena lights as if inviting Elliot to approach him instead.

“Oh… interesting.”

“Look at Graves slowing everything down here. He’s thinking now.”

“And Shimamura immediately stops pressing too! It’s like both guys suddenly realized something about the other.”

For several seconds, neither fighter commits. The arena noise lowers into a tense murmur while Elliot continues circling carefully, eyes locked toward Shimamura’s strange loose posture.

Then finally, Elliot tests him, and a clean textbook jab shoots out, and another one.

The first one falls short, while the second jab follows immediately afterward, aimed slightly lower this time.

Tp.

And it only brushes lightly against Shimamura’s right glove.

Elliot continues studying him carefully while cocking his right hand near his cheek. His right shoulder sways subtly forward afterward, still probing, still testing the water. And throughout all of it, Shimamura barely reacts at all.

“And listen to this crowd suddenly getting quiet now…” the lead commentator says as both fighters remain measured near center ring. “A minute ago this place was exploding, and now it feels like everybody’s holding their breath.”

“Because the fight just turned into a chess match,” the second commentator replies. “Graves isn’t rushing anymore. He’s studying. Every little shoulder twitch, every reaction, every counter window; he’s testing all of it now before committing.”

“And Shimamura’s not giving him much information back either. He’s just standing there loose like he doesn’t care… but we’ve already seen how dangerous that calm can become.”

Then Elliot finally releases a light cross while already bracing himself for the counter afterward. And once again, that familiar sensation surges through him; the feeling that this punch is finally going to land clean, while another part of him already expects it to miss at the very last instant again.

And exactly as predicted, Shimamura only moves at the final split second. His head tilts away while his torso sways loosely aside before his right glove swings upward awkwardly from below.

But Elliot is fully prepared this time. His left glove catches the punch cleanly on the palm.

Pak!

“OH, Graves finally reads the counter!”

“Beautiful catch on the left glove!”

And immediately afterward, Elliot takes another risk by firing a sharp one-two combination straight down the middle.

“And he fires something back!”

For a split second, both punches look certain to land. But Shimamura still reacts in time, bringing his right shoulder forward.

The jab crashes against his raised upper arm.

Dug.

Then his body leans backward with that same awkward unstable-looking balance, causing the cross to miss cleanly through empty air.

“But somehow Shimamura still slips the cross!”

“I swear, every time you think Graves finally solved the timing, this guy bends out of danger by an inch again!”

At least, that tiny exchange becomes enough for Elliot to fully trust his earlier conclusion. The truly dangerous part of Shimamura only appears after the dodge. The counters themselves are strange, difficult to predict, and extremely accurate from bizarre angles.

But outside those moments… all Shimamura’s offenses feel manageable.

Elliot chooses safety afterward, no longer engages recklessly. And Shimamura simply waits near center ring again, both gloves dangling loosely at his sides while neither fighter commits anymore.

The final ten seconds disappear inside that strange silence.

And then…

DING!

“And there’s the bell for round six!” the lead commentator says as the crowd noise swells again through the arena.

“What a bizarre round to analyze,” the second commentator admits. “Because Shimamura scores the knockdown and creates the biggest moment of the fight… but Elliot Graves may have learned more in these three minutes than at any other point tonight.”

“Exactly. Graves finally stopped chasing recklessly near the end there. He slowed himself down, started reading the reactions, started testing the counters instead of running straight into them.”

“But at the same time, how frustrating must this fight feel for him?”

“Extremely frustrating. Every exchange keeps giving him the sensation that he’s about to land clean… and then Shimamura disappears from the impact line at the final split second again.”

“And meanwhile, Shimamura still looks completely unreadable. One moment he seems half-disoriented, the next moment he’s landing counters clean enough to shake a world-level contender.”

Round six comes to an end with the knockdown still giving Shimamura the biggest moment of the fight so far. But despite that, Elliot Graves likely remains ahead on the scorecards while also walking back toward his corner with a much deeper understanding of the man standing across from him.

***

Meanwhile, back inside Nakahara’s cramped office in Tokyo, the delayed broadcast continues playing several seconds behind the live feed.

And during those final quiet moments before the bell, Nakahara exhales slowly through his nose with visible disappointment.

“I expected him to improve significantly after moving to America,” he says quietly. “But he still hasn’t fixed that flaw.”

Several people inside the room immediately turn toward him in confusion. Because from their perspective, Shimamura has been fighting brilliantly all night, making a world-level contender look like a man endlessly chasing shadows.

Everyone except Ryoma, who simply keeps his eyes on the television while giving a slow quiet nod, fully agreeing with Nakahara’s assessment.

“Maybe that’s the cost of his Zone,” Ryoma says calmly. “And if he stays like this, he won’t win the fight no matter how many punches he dodges.”

Okabe’s brows twitch immediately. “You guys blind or something? Listen to the crowd out there. Shimamura’s making Elliot look stupid. And he just dropped him.”

“He scored a knockdown,” Ryoma replies evenly, “which gives him a 10-8 round. But from rounds one through five, Elliot has been throwing much more volume. Shimamura avoided most of the real damage well enough, but a lot of those punches still scored. Meanwhile, Shimamura barely throws anything himself.”

Ryoma keeps watching the television carefully. “Defensively, he’s incredible tonight. But Elliot is probably still leading on points.”

“The only realistic way for Shimamura to win is by knockout,” Nakahara adds quietly. “But I’m not sure he has the offense necessary to break someone like Elliot Graves.”

“And I already told you…” Okabe insists stubbornly, “he dropped him!”

Ryoma finally turns toward him. “Did you actually look at how he scored that knockdown?”

Okabe blinks. “What?”

“He swung his entire arm while the shoulder stayed loose,” Ryoma says. “The only reason it worked was because Elliot was already stunned beforehand and couldn’t react properly. In a normal exchange, no world-level boxer gets hit clean by something that telegraphed.”

Okabe blinks again, still confused. “What?”

“And I still don’t understand why he fights like that,” Nakahara says. “Whenever he enters the Zone, the loose rhythm stops looking like a gimmick and starts becoming his entire fighting state.”

His eyes narrow toward the television, examining Shimamura’s condition in the blue corner while being treated by his corner team.

His eyes narrow slightly toward the television, carefully examining Shimamura’s condition in the blue corner while the cornermen continue treating him between rounds.

“…He’s definitely improved his conditioning,” Nakahara admits after a moment. “At least, he doesn’t look exhausted even after fighting this far inside that rhythm.”

He exhales quietly through his nose before folding his arms tighter. “But honestly… that alone isn’t enough to call it real improvement yet. Back when he still trained under me properly, he could already maintain this kind of condition as long as his discipline stayed intact.”

“And that’s what baffles me,” Ryoma adds, still keeping his eyes on the screen. “Despite not exhausted at all, he almost never plants his feet properly in there. He never twists his hips sharply. Never snaps his punches out cleanly with proper rotation.”

His brows tighten slightly afterward. “And because of that, the punches lose weight.”

Nakahara nods slightly afterward. “The only way he creates serious impact is by swinging the entire arm to build momentum first. And the punch that scored the knockdown… honestly, that’s one of the easiest punches in the world to read.”

“I think Shimamura himself understands that,” Ryoma says quietly. “Which is why he only throws it in very specific situations.”

The room gradually falls silent after that. Because now that everyone starts replaying the fight inside their heads again, Ryoma and Nakahara’s explanation suddenly feels disturbingly convincing.

“…Then why does he fight like that?” Sera asks, his narrowed eyes shift toward Nakahara. “I heard he started boxing here. Didn’t you teach him proper fundamentals?”

“I did,” Nakahara answers calmly. “His fundamentals used to be as good as Ryohei’s and Kenta’s. Maybe even comparable to Ryoma before he became OPBF champion. But the moment he steps fully into the Zone… it’s like he abandons all of it.”

The room falls quiet afterward, everyone unconsciously replaying the fight in their heads while the television broadcast continues murmuring in the background.

And the more they think about it, the more it starts sounding like the same flaw that once cost Shimamura his JBC title fight against Shinichi Yanagimoto.

As if, despite everything that has changed around him, Shimamura himself has never truly changed at all.

“At the world level…” Kurogane says at last after remaining silent through the entire discussion. “Such a flaw becomes a problem, the limit that separates you from the top-tier fighters in the world.”

“Exactly,” Nakahara nods quietly. “No matter how high you climb, you still can’t abandon the basics and fundamentals that brought you there in the first place.”