VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Ryoma only watches Nakahara leave the office without showing any intention of following him. From the way he is dressed alone, it is already obvious he has no plans to join the morning training downstairs.

There are no track pants, no training shoes, no athletic wear of any kind. Instead, he wears a neatly pressed dark shirt beneath a tailored coat, carrying the clean appearance of a young executive rather than an active boxer.

Not because he has a packed media schedule waiting for him this morning. Quite the opposite, today, he is the one conducting the interviews.

He glances briefly toward the wall clock as if waiting for a specific time, and only a few seconds later, a voice calls out from behind him.

“Ryoma-kun.”

Ryoma turns. “Oh, Toyama-san. What is it?”

The man standing there is Toyama Kuniyuki, a twenty-three-year-old who used to train diligently at Nakahara Gym as an amateur boxer in the past year before eventually giving up on the idea of turning professional.

Rather than leaving the gym entirely, he chose to stay close to it, and now works as an all-round office assistant inside the newly established promotional company, helping wherever he is needed.

“Are you ready for the interview session?” Toyama asks. “There are already several applicants waiting downstairs.”

“How many?”

“Six. Two men and four women.”

Ryoma nods lightly. “Bring them upstairs, and prepare drinks for everyone.”

Toyama gives a small bow before heading toward the stairs. Ryoma follows behind him through the corridor, but while Toyama continues down toward the first floor lobby, Ryoma keeps walking toward the executive office.

They can no longer run the promotional company the same way they did last year. The scale has changed. Sponsors, broadcasters, and larger events have forced them to build something more organized, even if the company itself is still in its early stages.

Ryoma enters the office and walks straight toward the large desk positioned near the back of the room before lowering himself into the executive’s chair.

Behind him, mounted neatly against the wall, the company’s new name is displayed in metallic lettering.

RONIN FIGHT MANAGEMENT.

RFM.

Ryoma serves as the company’s CEO, while Nakahara remains Chairman, overseeing both the gym and the promotional firm itself.

Sera serves as Chief Operating Officer (COO), overseeing the daily operations of the second-floor office and the execution of fight events while still maintaining his technical role downstairs as an assistant trainer.

Kurogane holds the position of Head of Technical & Matchmaking, acting as the strategist behind fight card construction, responsible for evaluating opponent viability and negotiating with outside managers and promoters.

Meanwhile, Hiroshi oversees the role of Head of Athlete Relations & Welfare, handling fighter support, internal communication and the personal management side, and ensuring all athlete health and safety regulations are properly cleared before any fighter enters the ring.

And of course, they now need actual employees working under those divisions. One of them, in particular, is a professional accountant role, which is exactly why Ryoma is sitting here this morning preparing to conduct interviews.

***

A few minutes later, Toyama returns and gently opens the office door before stepping aside to allow the first applicant inside.

“She’s here, Ryoma-kun.”

The woman entering the room looks to be in her mid-twenties, dressed in a clean cream-colored blazer with carefully styled hair and makeup polished enough to resemble someone attending a luxury brand presentation rather than a job interview inside a boxing promotion office.

Ryoma rises slightly from his seat out of politeness before gesturing toward the chair across from him.

“Please, sit.”

“Thank you very much.”

Her voice carries practiced refinement. Even the way she lowers herself into the chair feels rehearsed, careful not to wrinkle her skirt.

Toyama quietly places tea on the table before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. And for a moment, the office falls silent.

Ryoma glances down at the application file and reads calmly. “Mana Miyahara, twenty-six years old. Accounting certification, previous experience at two private firms… and recently employed at a hospitality group in Minato.”

“Yes.”

“You left after seven months?”

A small smile appears on her lips. “The environment wasn’t suitable for long-term growth.”

Ryoma nods once, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. While she speaks, Ryoma’s Vision Grid works, thin analytical layers begin categorizing movement patterns automatically.

Her posture is stable. Speech tempo controlled. Confidence intentionally projected. But underneath that polish, the pattern emerging is strangely familiar.

Ryoma’s eyes drift briefly toward the handbag resting beside her chair. The leather is authentic, not imitation, and the model itself is from a seasonal luxury release expensive enough to stand out immediately against the salary history written in her application file.

The watch on her wrist follows the same pattern. Even the perfume lingering softly in the room belongs to a high-end line more commonly associated with image-conscious professionals than ordinary office workers in their twenties.

Ryoma’s Vision Grid quietly arranges the details together, not as proof of irresponsibility, but as indicators of a personality that gradually ties self-worth to visible lifestyle elevation.

“You seem interested in luxury brands,” Ryoma says casually.

The woman brightens slightly at the topic, the response arriving almost too naturally.

“A little,” she admits with a polite laugh. “I think presentation matters a lot professionally.”

Ryoma nods once. “That depends on the environment.”

The woman tilts her head slightly, waiting for elaboration.

“Most people downstairs still think twelve-thousand-yen sneakers are expensive,” he says calmly. “Some of our fighters still compare convenience store discounts before buying dinner after training.”

A brief silence follows before she laughs lightly again, though this time it sounds more uncertain.

“Well… I suppose athletes are different.”

“They are,” Ryoma replies. “And fighters who suddenly start spending too much after gaining attention usually don’t stay disciplined for very long.”

The woman straightens slightly in her seat. “But if they can afford it, isn’t enjoying success natural?”

Ryoma studies her quietly for a moment. The answer itself is not unreasonable. The problem lies in how instinctively she says it, how easily financial growth becomes emotionally connected to visible lifestyle expansion in her thinking.

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That kind of mentality is dangerous inside a small combat sports company still trying to build financial structure carefully from the ground up.

Then Ryoma continues calmly. “If you handled company budgeting and noticed one of our fighters spending excessively before an important camp, would you stop him?”

“Of course.”

“Even if he insisted it was his personal money?”

“Yes.”

“And if it affected sponsorship perception later?”

“I would still stop him.”

Ryoma studies her quietly for another second. The answer itself is correct, but too correct, the kind people give when they understand what should be said instead of what they naturally believe.

Vision Grid continues mapping the emotional inconsistencies beneath the smile.

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Eventually, Ryoma closes the file gently. “Thank you for coming today, Miyahara-san.”

The woman blinks once. “…Ah. That’s all?”

“For now,” Ryoma says with a humble smile.

Her expression remains polite, but disappointment flashes through her eyes before she quickly hides it again.

Toyama re-enters with the next file in his hand. “She actually seems very qualified,” he says carefully.

Ryoma leans back slightly in his chair and exhales through his nose. “Maybe. But not the kind of person I’d feel comfortable entrusting my money to.”

Toyama lets out a small awkward laugh before placing the next applicant’s file neatly on the table.

“Then I’ll bring in the next applicant,” he says before leaving the office.

A few minutes later, the second applicant enters, and this time, even Toyama looks slightly uncomfortable while introducing her.

The woman bows energetically the moment she steps inside.

“Thank you very much for seeing me today!”

She is undeniably attractive. Not just pretty, but aggressively noticeable in a way that immediately alters the atmosphere of the room.

Her makeup is softer than the previous applicant’s, but strategically so, designed to appear effortless despite obviously requiring effort.

Her smile arrives too quickly and lingers slightly too long. She seems noticeably more interested in the young CEO than in the accounting position itself.