VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Ryoma keeps walking deeper into the gym while listening quietly to Matsuda’s response over the phone.

Midway toward the hallway, he actually runs into Reika. She blinks slightly after seeing him up close.

“Ah, Ryoma…”

But Ryoma simply removes the sunglasses without slowing down, places them into her hands, and continues walking past her while still talking into the phone.

“No, seriously,” he says. “I’m asking because I genuinely don’t know how rich people hire bodyguards.”

Reika remains standing there silently with the sunglasses in her hands while watching him disappear farther down the hallway.

At first, the familiar disappointment resurfaces quietly inside her chest. But the more she replays the scene inside her head, the more that feeling slowly mixes with uneasiness instead.

The pale face, the sweat, and the serious tone in his voice when speaking about bodyguards all feel deeply out of place.

“…Bodyguards?” she mutters softly.

At that moment, Kenta happens to come down from the ring after finishing a light sparring session.

“So he ignores you again, huh?” he says casually.

Reika startles slightly before shaking her head. “N-no, it’s not really like that…”

Kenta gives a small shrug. “Don’t take it too hard. Honestly, he’s even been having trouble focusing on his own training lately. There’s just a lot happening around him right now. The promotions, the upcoming events, his own fight… and now all the safety concerns too, especially with how famous he’s becoming.”

Reika’s expression shifts slightly. “His safety?”

Kenta nods once. “You heard about what happened in Manila, right?”

“Ah… the attack?” she replies carefully. “Yes, I heard about it, but… assassinated?”

Kenta shrugs again. “It’s hard not to see it that way. Somebody clearly wanted him dead.”

Reika slowly turns her eyes toward the staircase Ryoma disappeared through earlier, still completely unaware that her own father and brother might actually have something to do with the danger surrounding him.

***

Since that day, Ryoma begins carrying himself with noticeably sharper caution everywhere he goes. He begins observing his surroundings far more carefully than before, paying attention to passing vehicles, unfamiliar faces, blind corners, and small movements around him almost constantly.

And as the days pass without Matsuda successfully arranging proper professional security, that vigilance only keeps getting worse little by little.

At least, by the time Ronin Fight Management finally holds its next event at Ota Gymnasium, Matsuda manages to gather five people willing to act as temporary bodyguards. Still members of the Cruel King Army, which means none of them look remotely subtle.

The moment Ryoma arrives at Ota Gym with these six men, they immediately start attracting attention from practically everyone in sight.

Partly because all six of them look like they spent an entire week discussing how to appear intimidating; long coats, dark sunglasses at night, and last but not least, excessive silver accessories.

One man even slicks his hair completely backward like a yakuza, while another keeps crossing his arms every few seconds despite clearly not knowing what to do.

And somehow, despite trying so hard to look dangerous, the entire group instead gives off the atmosphere of unemployed delinquents roleplaying as movie villains outside a pachinko parlor.

In the middle of it all, Ryoma walks them with the faint expression of someone already regretting every decision that led to this situation.

“…Why do all of you look like backup enemies from The Raid Redemption?”

Matsuda, meanwhile, keeps walking forward with complete seriousness behind his sunglasses. “Intimidation is part of security protocol,” he says calmly. “Visible presence discourages hostile action.”

Ryoma exhales tiredly. “You actually make us look like a moving side quest.”

The other men immediately fold their arms harder after hearing that, somehow trying to appear even more threatening.

Unfortunately, the effect completely backfires. Instead of avoiding attention, people nearby start approaching Ryoma excitedly, apparently assuming the entire thing is some elaborate promotional act.

“Ah! It’s Ryoma!”

“It’s the Cruel King and His army.”

“Ryoma, can I get an autograph?!”

The five self-proclaimed bodyguards react instantly. They move forward with surprising speed and spread themselves around Ryoma in a loose defensive barrier while trying their absolute hardest to look dangerous.

“Please maintain distance,” one of them says deeply while extending an arm sideways.

But a few in the crowd actually burst out laughing.

“No way, they’re staying in character too!”

“Wait, aren’t you from the Cruel King Army? You are the leader, right?”

“Are the others coming too tonight?!”

Matsuda adjusts his sunglasses with even greater seriousness after being recognized, treating the situation like the crowd validating his disguise only proves the operation is succeeding.

Ryoma slowly shakes his head. “…This is so stupid.”

Someone from the crowd hands him a cap for signing, and Ryoma simply gives up resisting the situation altogether.

***

Inside Ota Gymnasium, the atmosphere feels far livelier than anyone originally expected for a local-level card. Although the arena still falls short of a complete sellout, the crowd filling the seats already pushes close to four thousand people, enough for the entire venue to buzz constantly beneath the harsh white lights hanging over the ring.

The audience noise rises and falls in restless waves while two exhausted Class-B fighters continue tearing into each other at center ring like men fighting for the right to survive one more day inside professional boxing.

“ANOTHER RIGHT HAND LANDS CLEAN!”

“OH! HARD LEFT HOOK TO THE BODY!”

“Neither fighter wants to give ground here!”

“Shigenobu keeps pressing forward, but Matabei refuses to fold under the pressure!”

The crowd erupts as both fighters collide chest-to-chest again near the ropes, trading short hooks and uppercuts at brutal close range.

“This is unbelievable heart from both men tonight!”

“They may not be world champions yet, but they’re fighting like their entire careers depend on this round!”

The fight itself is genuinely intense. But the atmosphere inside the arena suddenly shifts the moment Ryoma appears walking down the aisle.

Escorted by two event staff members while the six overly serious bodyguards continue surrounding him, Ryoma immediately steals the attention without even trying.

The audience near ringside starts turning away from the ongoing fight just to look toward him instead.

“And matabei is still pressing forward… wait a second…” the lead commentator suddenly cuts himself off mid-sentence as the crowd noise changes noticeably throughout the venue.

More and more spectators begin pointing toward the aisle.

“Ah, Ryoma!”

“He’s actually here tonight!”

“No way, the Cruel King Army guys came too!”

The camera immediately shifts away from the ring toward Ryoma walking calmly down the aisle with both hands inside his coat pockets while the six men around him continue maintaining their absurdly overcommitted security formation.

“Well, for those of you who may not know,” the commentator quickly says, “tonight’s event, Night of Revenge, is organized by Ronin Fight Management itself, with Ryoma Takeda serving not only as co-promoter, but also the CEO of the company.”

The crowd immediately responds with loud applause and cheers. And Ryoma answers them with a polite wave while continuing down toward ringside.

The event staff guides him toward the VIP seating area near the ring. Seven seats have already been reserved there. And the moment they reach there, the entire situation becomes even stupider.

All six bodyguards exchange serious glances with one another before giving small nods like trained professionals preparing for a classified operation.

Immediately afterward, they begin inspecting the seating area, one checks beneath the chairs, another examines the surrounding barricade carefully.

A third briefly presses against the underside of Ryoma’s ringside seat while narrowing his eyes suspiciously, apparently searching for explosives inside a local boxing venue hosting four thousand people.

Ryoma grimaces slightly, then walks over and pats Matsuda lightly on the shoulder from behind.

Matsuda turns around. “Yes, Oyabun?”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“It’s protocol,” Matsuda answers with complete seriousness. “Ensuring your safety.”

Ryoma briefly closes his eyes. For a moment, he seriously considers giving Matsuda a long lecture.

But before he can say anything else, another voice suddenly calls out nearby.

“Ryoma-kun.”

Ryoma turns his head and notices Fujimoto slowly rises from his chair, though his attention clearly drifts more toward the bizarre security entourage surrounding Ryoma.

“Is something wrong?” Fujimoto asks calmly.

“Ah… no, not really,” Ryoma answers awkwardly before glancing toward Matsuda and the others. “Hey. That’s enough already.”

The six men reluctantly stop their security sweep. Ryoma exhales quietly before turning back toward Fujimoto again.

“This is Kenji Matsuda,” Ryoma gestures toward him. “Leader of the Cruel King Army. The other five are representatives too.”

Matsuda immediately gives a respectful bow. “It’s an honor to meet you, Fujimoto-san. Oyabun… ah, I mean, Ryoma-aniki often speaks highly of you.”

Fujimoto gives a polite wave of his hand, dismissing the praise with the modest ease of someone clearly unaccustomed to treating himself too importantly.

“It’s not my fight tonight,” Ryoma continues, “but they insisted on coming anyway, so… I figured I might as well let them watch from ringside.”

Fujimoto gives a small nod. “I see.”

Then he gestures toward the nearby empty seats, inviting them to sit down. Only then does Ryoma notice Daigo Kirizume seated right beside one empty seat separating him from Fujimoto’s position.

After a short hesitation, Ryoma ends up taking that seat himself, placing him directly between the two influential men.

The moment he sits down, Kirizume immediately smirks sideways at him. “Well,” he says, “that was certainly one of the most embarrassing security demonstrations I’ve ever witnessed in professional boxing.”

Ryoma’s brows twitch slightly, though he quickly regains his composure afterward. “At least I can sit here beside you tonight,” he replies calmly.

Kirizume lets out a faint amused chuckle. “Oh? You say that like it’s some great achievement worth fighting for.”

“Of course it is,” Ryoma says, casually undoing the button of his suit jacket, his eyes remaining on the ongoing fight inside the ring. “Remember that night at Shirokanedai? Quintessence.”

Kirizume’s smirk softens slightly, already recalling that meeting he had with Ryoma back in 2015.

“You tried to pull me away from Nakahara,” Ryoma continues. “Offered me a contract. And when I refused, you genuinely thought I wouldn’t survive staying at that small gym.”

He then glance sideways toward him, the look calm but filled with quiet confidence.

“And now you can see where I sit tonight.”