VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

From his seat at ringside, Ryoma notices the brief change in Okabe. The pressure eases for a moment as Okabe is still standing right in front of Higuchi, still holding the initiative, yet the urgency disappears from his movements.

Ryoma’s expression darkens, because to his eyes, Okabe is feeling sorry for his opponent.

“What are you doing, you idiot?!” he shouts. “A ring is not a place for sympathy!”

Even through the noise of the crowd, the message reaches Okabe clearly. His eyes flick toward ringside for a split second before he turns his attention back to Higuchi. Realization flashes across his face, followed by visible annoyance at himself.

Then he goes back on the attack. The pressure returns immediately as he steps forward and begins forcing Higuchi backward once more.

But the earlier hesitation has already cost him precious seconds. Higuchi survives the remaining exchanges by moving, clinching, and doing whatever he can to drag himself toward the end of the round.

Eventually…

Ding!

The bell rings, and Ryoma throws up his hands before leaning back into his seat.

“That was a wasted opportunity.”

Fujimoto, sitting beside him, looks far less concerned. “You don’t need to panic over something like that. Okabe is still controlling the fight.”

Ryoma shakes his head. “He’s dominating because he keeps forcing Higuchi to make decisions under pressure every second of the fight. But he’s not some genius who can give away opportunities and simply create another one whenever he feels like it. Fighters like him win through accumulation, stacking pressure on top of pressure until the other guy finally breaks.”

***

Despite the break, Higuchi cannot maintain control for even a full minute in the next round. The sharpness that allowed him to dictate the pace earlier is no longer there.

His feet still move well enough, and the jab still comes out with discipline. But the speed of his reactions has dulled noticeably.

More importantly, Okabe no longer needs to herd him toward the ropes or trap him inside a corner to force exchanges. Every time the distance closes, Higuchi finds himself trading whether he wants to or not.

“They’re going again!”

“Oh, come on, give these two a break!”

“No chance! Look at them!”

“Higuchi fires back!”

“And okabe doesn’t care!”

“They’re still standing in front of each other!”

“This is insane!”

“How much do these guys have left?!”

“I don’t know, but apparently more than we thought!”

Then, just before the final minute begins, Okabe makes a subtle adjustment. He actually lets Higuchi a moment of break, a space to regain his composure.

In the ringside, Ryoma throws up his hands again. “Why the hell are you stopping, Okabe?! Don’t give him a break.”

Okabe hears him. He also hears a few spectators actually responding to Ryoma’s complains. But he ignores it, because for once, he wants to play something clean.

“Just shut up, and watch…”

His head movement becomes simpler. The constant level changes disappear. Instead, he merely leans his torso slightly to the left before returning to a neutral position.

Even his guard lowers a little, no longer covering the entire side of his head and instead protecting only his chin.

“WAIT A SECOND!”

“Okabe’s movement just changed!”

“Yeah, where’d all the pressure go?”

“At this point in the fight, it could just be exhaustion.”

“Well, Higuchi’s looking at it right now, and I guarantee he’s seeing opportunities.”

“The question is whether Higuchi turns this into an offensive opportunity, or uses it to reset and recover.”

Under normal circumstances, Higuchi might have noticed something strange about it. But tonight, he is just too desperate.

For nearly four rounds, he has been trying to smash Okabe’s ugly face and failing every single time. So when he finally sees a pattern he thinks he understands, he immediately commits to it.

The jab shoots out first, and…

Dsh!

…it clips Okabe’s right cheek.

Higuchi’s eyes widen slightly, and the right hand follows immediately after, thrown with far more conviction than the jab.

But just as the punch travels forward, Okabe pulls his lead foot back and drifts half a step out of range.

“Oh, shit…”

The cross cuts through empty air.

And before Higuchi can recover his balance, Okabe has already slipped underneath the punch and stepped inside.

A spearing jab drives into his midsection…

Thud!

…and the overhead punch crashes directly into the face.

DHUACK!

This time, instead of snot, blood sprays into the air.

Higuchi’s head snaps backward so violently that, for a brief moment, all he can see are the arena lights hanging above the ring. The white glow floods his vision.

Then the light becomes painfully bright before disappearing altogether. His legs give out, and his body tips backward before he crashes onto the canvas.

Blugh-bugh!

“OOOH! DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

“OKABE JUST PULLED A COUNTER!”

“AND WHAT A COUNTER IT WAS!”

“Against a boxer like higuchi, Shuji Okabe may have just landed the cleanest counter of his entire career!”

The referee only examines Higuchi for a brief moment before waving both arms.

“OOH! HE STOPS IT!

“THE FIGHT IS OVER!!!”

Okabe immediately springs off the canvas as if all the exhaustion from the past rounds has suddenly vanished.

He jumps in place once, then twice, before breaking into an awkward celebratory run around the ring. He circles the ropes like an overexcited kid before climbing onto a corner post and thrusting his right fist toward the crowd.

“You see that?! You see what I just did?!”

“That’s called a counter! Fancy stuff! I’m not just some mindless brawler, you get that?!”

The crowd barely pays attention to what he is actually saying. They are too busy roaring, too busy cheering, too busy whistling loud enough to shake the arena.

And among the loudest voices are the same rough-looking supporters who have been backing him all night.

“That’s my boy!”

“Look at this dumbass throwing counters now!”

“Who said you can’t box, you ugly bastard?!”

“You hear that, pretty-boy fans?! Our guy’s got skills now!”

The surrounding section erupts with laughter and cheers. Meanwhile, perched atop the corner post, Okabe continues pointing at himself proudly, completely convinced that the entire arena is celebrating his technical brilliance rather than the fact that he just knocked someone unconscious.