VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Inside Nakahara’s office, the atmosphere remains strangely frozen for several seconds after Miguel Cabello’s challenge echoes through the television speakers.

The commentators on TV continue talking excitedly about the possible matchup, replaying Cabello’s words again while the arena crowd in Las Vegas still roars beneath the broadcast audio.

But inside the office itself, the silence feels heavier than the noise.

Then suddenly, Kurogane bursts into laughter.

“Pff… Hahahaa!”

His palm slaps loudly against the desk once, genuinely amused by the absurdity of it.

“So he really swallowed your bait after all, Ryoma,” he says between laughs. “Hahahaa… unbelievable.”

Ryoma remains sitting quietly without answering, still observing the chaos surrounding Cabello and the ring.

“With this, your title fight against Miguel Cabello is only a matter of time now,” Kurogane continues. “Even if Liam O’Connel stays ranked number one and you only climb to second place, Cabello already made the challenge publicly himself. That would become his first voluntary title defense. You probably won’t need to wait long anymore.”

Sera’s calm voice cuts through the excitement almost immediately.

“I doubt it’ll be that simple.”

He keeps his eyes on the television where Cabello’s team is still escorting the new champion away from the arena floor.

“Just look at their reactions,” Sera says. “Neither the promoter nor the trainer looked happy about what their champion just did.”

“But…” Aramaki frowns while glancing back toward the screen, “if they avoid Ryoma again after this, wouldn’t Cabello look ridiculous? The media would destroy him.”

“Not necessarily,” Nakahara replies calmly. “They can still hide behind WBO procedures and formalities.”

Aramaki immediately turns toward him, his brows lifting slightly as curiosity flashes across his face.

“Liam O’Connel will absolutely push for a rematch,” Nakahara continues. “And if we pressure too hard, the WBO can simply order a title eliminator first to determine the mandatory challenger.”

Onscreen, the flat-screen television now shows Hugo Ramirez speaking tensely within a small group near ringside. Jackson Rhodes stands there too alongside several other executives and promoters.

The broadcast offers no actual conversation audio, only the arena atmosphere and the commentators speculating over the situation.

But for a brief moment, Ryoma’s eyes narrow slightly as Hugo Ramirez turning sideways just enough for part of his lips to become readable.

[…never happen… I won’t allow that… whatever it takes…]

Only fragments, nothing more. The studio anchors immediately take over the broadcast afterward, enthusiastically discussing the possible world title fight.

A second later, the footage abruptly cuts away into replay clips from the Manila event where Ryoma publicly challenged Miguel Cabello weeks earlier.

Ryoma loses interest almost instantly. He stretches both arms overhead while exhaling lightly.

“Whatever…” he says. “I’ll become world champion within a year.”

Everyone inside the room glances toward him. Ryoma simply rises from the sofa afterward and casually starts walking toward the office exit.

“Liam O’Connel. Miguel Cabello. I don’t care whose belt I take.”

Aramaki quickly stands and follows behind him with a crooked grin. “Oh? So now you’ve already decided on a deadline?”

“Of course.” Ryoma opens the door leading toward the main gym area. “There’s nothing that can stop me.”

“Well… hopefully,” Aramaki mutters while following him outside. “I’m just worried that Manila incident might happen again.”

Ryoma briefly glances sideways toward him. And honestly, lately, Ryoma himself has not stopped thinking about that possibility either.

“Hey, Ryoma,” Aramaki suddenly says, “you ever think about hiring bodyguards or something?”

Ryoma raises one brow slightly, the faint reaction carrying equal parts confusion and mild amusement.

“I heard you made huge money from that Manila event investment,” Aramaki continues. “Don’t be stingy with cash. Hire a few scary-looking guys so you can walk around like some mafia boss.”

That finally pulls a small amused smile from Ryoma. He gently shakes his head afterward before starting a few light stretches. But he never actually answers the suggestion.

Once the stretching finishes, he immediately begins walking again toward the exit.

“Hey,” Aramaki calls from behind. “Where are you going now?”

“Roadwork.” Ryoma rolls one shoulder loosely. “My body feels stiff after sitting too long.”

Aramaki instinctively glances toward the wall clock. It is already past two in the morning, and their training session should have ended long ago.

With the younger fighters and amateur trainees absent during the year-end holiday break, Ryoma no longer really has any reason to stay this late inside the gym. And yet Ryoma still intends to continue training.

“Training maniac,” Aramaki mutters under his breath while walking toward his own bag.

At first he intends to just go home. But then that same uneasy feeling quietly returns again. His eyes drift toward the entrance Ryoma disappeared through only moments earlier.

“…Shit.”

Aramaki clicks his tongue softly before abandoning the bag entirely and hurrying after Ryoma instead.

“If something really happens to that idiot again… this could get dangerous fast.”

***

Back inside Nakahara’s office, the atmosphere gradually shifts away from the tension surrounding Miguel Cabello’s challenge. The television still runs quietly in the background, but now the room feels much lighter, filled with the restless excitement of possibilities waiting in the coming year.

“February’s event is going to be interesting,” Kurogane says. “For the first time, we’ll use Ryohei as the headliner. Main event. Okabe in the semifinal. Both of them getting rematches to avenge their losses from the Class-A Tournament.”

Nakahara immediately raises one brow. “You already started thinking about how to sell it?”

“Of course I did,” Kurogane scoffs. “Come on, that kind of narrative practically writes itself. Revenge match, redemption, unfinished business. Audiences love emotional stories like that.”

“Don’t get carried away,” Sera cuts in calmly. “Their opponents don’t exactly have huge reputations. Don’t expect the public excitement to become anything close to the events where Ryoma was the centerpiece.”

Nakahara quietly nods beside him, appearing far more cautious about the gym’s financial priorities moving forward.

“For this one, we should stay moderate,” Sera says. “Don’t gamble too aggressively. Save the money for Ryoma’s world title path later.”

“Ah, speaking of that…” Kurogane suddenly mutters.

His hand begins moving the mouse around lazily before clicking open another window on the monitor.

“I completely forgot something. I saw a new email from Della Cruz’s management this morning. But I haven’t read it yet.”

That immediately catches both Nakahara and Sera’s attention. Neither man says anything, but both quietly step behind the desk to look at the monitor together with him.

Kurogane opens the email and casually scans through it for several seconds before nodding to himself.

“Yep. Just like I expected. They want a rematch with Kenta. Looks like the champion feels pretty insulted by that controversial win.”

Nakahara narrows his eyes toward the English text on the screen, visibly struggling to properly follow the contents.

“What does it say exactly?” he asks.

“Della Cruz’s camp wants a rematch for the WBO Asia Pacific title,” Kurogane says. “They don’t care where or when it happens.”

His eyes move briefly across another paragraph before continuing. “But they want it done within the next five months if possible, because after that, Della Cruz will have mandatory defense obligations waiting.”

Nakahara falls silent afterward. For several seconds, he simply stands there beside the desk with his arms folded, staring vaguely toward the monitor while calculations quietly begin forming inside his head.

Then eventually he exhales and walks back toward the sofa before lowering himself into the seat again.

“Five months, huh…” he mutters.

Originally, he had already prepared several possibilities in advance; pushing for that rematch themselves, even preparing Kenta to challenge the OPBF champion instead if Della Cruz avoided them entirely.

But now the situation has changed. Della Cruz himself is demanding the rematch. No matter where, no matter when.

Ideally, Nakahara wants to host the event here in Japan to avoid another disastrous training camp situation like Manila. But that would also mean organizing two major events within the next five months while Ryoma’s world title situation continues hanging uncertainly in the background.

Having so many talented fighters inside one gym truly is a blessing. Managing all of them at once, however, becomes a completely different challenge. At least now, unlike before, Nakahara no longer carries that burden entirely alone.

“I know this is getting too much for you to handle, Kaichou,” Kurogane says casually while spinning the mouse around his fingers. “That’s why, we should put Ryoma’s world title situation aside for now and focus on the others first.”

Nakahara lifts his eyes, before fully turning his head toward him.

“Ryohei and Okabe are already clear for February,” Kurogane continues. “We can fill the undercard slots with fighters from Aramaki’s old gym. Then for Kenta’s title fight, we can put Aramaki in the semifinal. Don’t forget, he’s the top-ranked contender now. His fight against Leonardo Serrano is basically unavoidable at this point.”

Nakahara’s expression stiffens slightly at the mention of Serrano, who continues defending his belt successfully under the guidance of the highly respected Daigo Kirizume.

“As for Ryoma…” Kurogane says while leaning back into the chair again, “…we should separate him entirely. His world title path deserves its own event.”

Then his expression grows slightly more serious. “And if you really want to host that fight here in Japan too, believe me… You’re going to need serious money. Could easily go beyond five million dollars.”