VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Nakahara’s eyebrows rise slightly. Kirizume showing up unannounced is already unusual enough. Showing up specifically to look for Ryoma is even stranger.

Still, he doesn’t dwell on it for long. “He’s upstairs,” Nakahara says. “Having an important meeting with the guys from Aqualis.”

Something shifts faintly in Kirizume’s expression. It lasts only an instant before his gaze drifts toward the front windows overlooking the street outside where a city car is parked on the curb.

The sight brings back part of a conversation he overheard the previous night. Fujimoto and Ryoma had been discussing the extension of their sponsorship agreement.

Ryoma had casually mentioned that he intended to visit them personally. But apparently Fujimoto had sent representatives here instead. That shows how much interest Fujimoto has in Ryoma’s image.

Kirizume slowly looks away from the window and gives a small nod.

“Then I’ll wait.”

Without another word, he walks toward a nearby bench and sits down.

Nakahara turns around to check the gym floor for a bit. Satisfied that nobody has suddenly abandoned training, he turns back and lowers himself onto the bench beside Kirizume.

For a few moments, neither man says anything. They simply sit there watching the gym operate in front of them. The rhythmic sounds of punches, footwork, and instructions fill the silence between them.

“Be honest with me, Nakahara,” Kirizume suddenly speaks without taking his eyes off Aramaki. “What do you think Aramaki’s chances are against Serrano?”

The question catches Nakahara slightly off guard. That is not the kind of thing a promoter usually asks a rival trainer. For a brief moment, he wonders whether the man sitting beside him is no longer here as a rival at all.

Nakahara thinks about it for a few seconds before answering. “Forty-sixty. But I also think Serrano wasn’t at his best in his last title defense. If that same Serrano shows up against Aramaki, then I’d call it fifty-fifty. And honestly, that’s what makes it such an interesting fight.”

Kirizume lets out a quiet breath. “I can never tell whether you’re being modest out of politeness or whether that inferiority complex of yours is still alive.”

Nakahara simply laughs awkwardly and shrugs. In truth, he cannot completely deny it. Then slowly, the smile gradually fades from his face.

“But the kid has been insisting on serving as Chief Second for Aramaki,” he says.

That steals Kirizume’s attention. “You mean Ryoma?”

Nakahara nods. “And if I’m being completely honest with you, the moment he steps into that corner, I’d put Aramaki’s chances at ninety percent.”

Kirizume lets out a short scoff. “You’re lowering your own value just to exaggerate the kid’s.”

“No… I still believe in what I do,” Nakahara says. “I know how to teach fundamentals. I know how to evaluate talent. I know how to guide a fighter toward the best long-term version of himself. That’s what decades of experience have given me.”

His gaze drifts toward the gym floor. “But Ryoma has something I don’t. Insight. The kind that lets him notice details other people miss. The way he reads fighters, trainers, managers… sometimes it feels like he can read your mind.”

His eyes narrow slightly as memories surface; countless conversations exchanged between rounds, fights where Nakahara found himself with little to add because Ryoma had already solved the problem himself, and most vividly of all, the night Ryoma took over the role of Chief Second in the middle of Ryohei’s title fight and guided him to the championship.

“When a problem appears during a fight,” Nakahara adds, “he has a frightening habit of finding the right answer before everyone else even understands the question.”

He then turns toward Kirizume. “And that’s still not the part that scares me most.”

For the first time, Kirizume’s expression hardens.

“It’s the ability to manipulate the battlefield without stepping into it,” Nakahara continues. “He can shape a fighter’s mindset throughout an entire training camp. He can plant ideas that slowly change how a fighter thinks, how he reacts, and how he approaches a problem.”

His voice remains calm, but the respect behind it is unmistakable. “And if he wants to, he can get inside Serrano’s head without ever speaking to him directly. He can use Aramaki as the vehicle and still influence what happens on the other side of the ring.”

Nakahara slowly folds his arms, his gaze drifting back across the gym floor. “I’m not exaggerating, Kirizume. I’ve spent years watching that kid work. If Ryoma is Chief Second for this fight, then Serrano won’t just be fighting Aramaki.”

Kirizume shifts his attention away from Nakahara and glances toward the staircase leading to the second floor, half expecting that Ryoma might already be there, quietly observing everything that has just been said.

He cannot dismiss Nakahara’s words so easily, because the same unease had already taken root in him since that night at Quintessence, when he tried and failed to persuade Ryoma to join his side.

What lingered after that meeting was not just rejection, but a rare sense of humiliation, the realization that he might have been psychologically outmaneuvered by someone far younger.

And now, watching how Ryoma fights, and how last night’s entire Ota Gym card seemed to unfold under his invisible direction, Kirizume finds Nakahara’s warning uncomfortably familiar.

Before Kirizume can pull his gaze away from the staircase, Kaito from Aqualis appears at the top of the stairs, followed closely by one of his colleagues.

“Ah, looks like they’ve finished,” Nakahara says, rising from the bench.

As Kaito approaches, both he and his companion give a slight bow toward Nakahara.

“That was quick,” Nakahara remarks.

Kaito shakes his head lightly. “It was actually wrapped up a while ago. We were just talking. I feel a bit bad, honestly, for taking up so much of his time and pulling him away from training.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Nakahara replies with a casual wave.

Kaito smiles, bows once more, and excuses himself along with his colleague.

Nakahara watches them go for a moment before turning back to Kirizume.

“Come on,” he says. “I’ll take you to his office.”

Kirizume lets out a light scoff as he gets up from the bench and begins walking after Nakahara.

“So now you’re personally escorting visitors who come looking for your disciple,” he says, his tone carrying a faint edge of sarcasm. “Funny. It almost looks like I’ve walked into the wrong gym. I can’t even tell anymore who’s the coach and who’s the student here.”

***

Nakahara leads Kirizume up the stairs and into Ryoma’s office. The door opens, and the first thing they see is Ryoma mid-motion, already loosening his suit jacket while speaking to himself with quiet energy, as if finishing an internal conversation.

“The contract is signed… time to get back to training.”

He reaches for his shirt, fingers already moving toward the top button, but stops halfway when he notices them. His hand freezes, one button still undone. For a brief moment, he just stares, genuinely caught off guard.

Kirizume pauses as well, equally momentarily taken aback, seeing Ryoma like this, stripped of his usual calculated composure and instead looking oddly young, almost naïve in a way he has never seen before. It is disarming precisely because it feels so uncharacteristic.

Ryoma even lets out a small, slightly awkward laugh. “Ah… Kirizume-san. Didn’t expect you to come all the way up to our humble office.”

“He wants to have a talk with you,” Nakahara says calmly, stepping aside as he gestures for Kirizume to take a seat. “Should I make you some coffee, Kirizume?”

“No, it’s fine,” Kirizume replies politely as he sits down, unbuttoning his coat. “I don’t intend to stay long.”

Nakahara gives a short nod, then turns toward the door. And the moment he does, Ryoma’s expression shifts.

“Coach, where are you going?”

“Back to the gym.”

Ryoma blinks. “Back to the gym? So you just came up here to bring Kirizume-san to me and then leave? Come on, Coach, you’re making it look like I’m some disciple who doesn’t know his place.”

Nakahara doesn’t answer. He simply steps out and closes the door behind him.

Ryoma stands there for a second longer, still wearing that awkward half-smile while staring at the closed door.

Then he exhales softly, walks back behind his desk, and sits down. The change in him is immediate; the looseness disappears, replaced by something far harder to read.

“So, Kirizume-san,” he begins casually, eyes steady. “You said you won’t be long. Then let’s keep it quick. What kind of deal are you bringing today?”

“There is no deal,” Kirizume says calmly. “I actually came here to cancel the arrangement we agreed on earlier.”

Ryoma’s eyes narrow slightly. “You…?” Then a soft smile appears on his face. “So you actually took my advice, huh?”

Kirizume raises an eyebrow. “It really was advice from you?”

“Yes,” Ryoma responds with a light shrug. “I was worried you still hadn’t fully realized your situation.”

Kirizume takes a deep sigh. “Fine, kid… I’ll admit it upfront. You beat me on this one. But can I hear it from you directly? Why are you doing this for me?”

His jaw tightens. “You had all the cards to crush me. Yet you chose to give me a way out. Why?”