VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Two weeks before Ryoma’s fight night, Aramaki finally returns to the Gym. For Ryoma, it is a welcome opportunity, because Aramaki is the closest thing to Liam O’Connell in this gym.

The sparring is intense, with Aramaki not holding back in the slightest. Becoming a national champion seems to have changed something in him. There is more confidence behind every step, more certainty behind every punch.

Behind a tight peek-a-boo guard, he keeps pressing forward, taking away space and setting the rhythm with a steady mix of jabs, hooks, and body shots.

”Don’t stay on the ropes,” Nakahara calls from ringside.

Ryoma hears it but doesn’t change much. Instead of matching Aramaki’s aggression, he spends most of the session moving behind a conservative Soviet-style rhythm.

He gives ground when necessary, pivoting off angles, parrying, blocking, and slipping just enough to avoid clean damage. He throws occasionally, but never with real commitment.

The goal isn’t to stop Aramaki. It’s to see how comfortably he can survive sustained pressure without relying on counters or offensive momentum.

The shape of the sparring hardly changes even by the third round. Eventually, Nakahara understands exactly what Ryoma is testing and nods from ringside.

”Good. Keep the feet moving.”

By the final bell, neither man looks particularly exhausted. Aramaki pulls off his headgear and clicks his tongue.

”You were taking it easy on me.”

Ryoma blinks. ”What?”

”Don’t give me that.” Aramaki shakes his head. ”I’m finally a champion now. If you’re going to spar me, then spar me properly.”

”I’m in the middle of a weight cut,” Ryoma says

”That’s a terrible excuse.”

”Maybe. But it’s still true.”

However, when it comes to Ryohei, Ryoma suddenly looks like a completely different fighter. The excuse about weight cutting quickly loses its credibility.

Against Aramaki, he spends three rounds moving, defending, and avoiding unnecessary exchanges. Against Ryohei, he walks forward himself. The change is obvious enough that several people around the ring exchange glances.

”He’s changed,” Sera says.

”Well, he picks things up faster than most athletes,” Nakahara replies.

Sera shakes his head. ”It’s not just the style. It’s the approach. The mindset.”

Not long after, Ryohei suddenly becomes more aggressive. The change comes almost out of nowhere, but not without reason.

”This is getting personal!” Okabe suddenly shouts from ringside. ”I knew he hated him! Come on, Ryohei! Stop running and hit that arrogant brat!”

Ryohei hears every word. The laughter itself is impossible to miss. He is already irritated by Ryoma’s pressure, and Okabe’s provocation only makes it worse.

With so many journalists watching this sparring, as a Japanese champion he can’t afford to look like a man spending the entire session backing away.

”Hey, kid… I know how good you are.”

”But I also know how to deal with you.”

Ryohei absorbs another sequence, two hooks thudding into his guard.

Then another right hook crashes into his left side.

Thud!

Ryohei tightens his left glove.

”Come on. Bring it on.”

As expected, the combination continues with Ryoma sending a left hook. Instead of avoiding it, Ryohei fires his own.

”You’re forgetting something.”

”I’m a lot heavier than you.”

Ryoma’s hook lands first.

Thud!

Ryohei’s left hook reaches the side of Ryoma’s headgear.

Dsh!

But something feels wrong. The punch lands, yet the impact feels hollow.

And before Ryohei can fully register it…

Dhuack!

A right hand snaps forward in a compact counter.

For a brief moment, Ryohei is stunned, not hurt badly, just surprised.

Immediately he tightens his guard and folds into a compact shell. His entire face disappears behind his gloves.

”Damn it.”

”I knew forcing a dual exchange was the answer.”

”Even then, I still can’t compete with him.”

”Isn’t he supposed to be cutting weight?”

”Somebody tell me he abandoned the weight cut.”

For the first time, Ryoma slows his combination, just enough to manipulate the guard. His right glove nudges upward against Ryohei’s right elbow.

A tiny opening appears, and…

BAM!

The body shot buries itself beneath the ribs.

Pain flashes through Ryohei’s torso. Instinctively, his guard drops, and Ryoma’s right hook comes immediately after.

Again, Ryohei forces another exchange, throwing his own right hand. However, the same problem appears, and this time Ryohei notices it.

”What the?”

Ryoma’s left arm hasn’t fully returned yet. But it lingers just wide and far enough forward to interfere with Ryohei’s forearm, disrupting the path of the punch and taking some of the force out of it.

Still, both punches land.

BLARRR!!!

A quiet wave of concern passes through the gym. Two weeks before fight night, with his weight already dropping, Ryoma isn’t supposed to be taking exchanges like that.

Yet somehow, Ryohei the heavier fighter looks worse afterward. His legs dip for a moment and his balance wavers, while Ryoma remains planted in front of him, posture compact and expression unchanged.

Ryoma continues the assault, starting it with a light left, which only hitting the head gear…

Dsh!

Then he sends a heavy right.

But Ryohei immediately retreats, taking several hurried steps backward until his shoulders touch the ropes.

He looks irritated. But there’s no confusion in his face.

”So that’s how he does it.”

”I landed... but he killed most of the momentum before it got there.”

”Damn it… How the hell does he pull that off in the middle of an exchange?”

What Ryohei doesn’t realize is that Ryoma already learned this lesson the hard way.

For years, his defense frustrates opponents so thoroughly that many eventually resort to forcing exchanges out of desperation.

Ryoma has been hit countless times in those situations. There is no way he could go through all of that without learning something from it.

***

Afterward, the session settles into a clear pattern. Ryoma continues applying constant pressure, refusing to give ground.

Even when Ryohei takes additional risks and forces more exchanges, Ryoma simply walks through them and keeps advancing, maintaining control of the ring.

”See the difference now,” Sera says, glancing at Nakahara while gesturing a bit toward the ring. ”The Ryoma I used to know preferred clean counters. He controlled opponents through reads. Through timing. Through tricks that made them make mistakes. He avoided unnecessary risks whenever he could.”

Then he slowly shakes his head. ”The Ryoma we’re seeing now... He’s too aggressive. Willing to throw all of that away if it means imposing himself. Like stubbornly trying to dominate through pressure, brutality, and sheer force. Like he’s completely willing to take damage just to hurt his opponent.”

Nakahara keeps his eyes on the ring for a few moments longer, watching Ryoma continue to press forward behind another combination.

”He has to,” he says at last. ”The fight with Liam O’Connel will be the kid’s first fight at world level, and he ended up with a final eliminator right away. At this stage, you can’t go in expecting to win without getting hurt.”

Nakahara folds his arms. ”Don’t forget what it took just for him to win the OPBF title from Jade Mc’Connel. He walked through hell for that belt. Liam O’Connel will be worse. If Ryoma wants to beat someone like Liam, then sooner or later he has to become comfortable fighting in places where things stop being clean.”

Sera watches the sparring for another moment before speaking again. ”But is it really necessary to abandon the advantages that made him successful in the first place? Just to compete with Liam O’Connel at close range? Or is part of this about proving your own point, that an infighter raised under Kenji Nakahara can reach the world stage, so that when he wins, the victory belongs to Nakahara’s boxing as much as it belongs to Ryoma?”

He then turns to Nakahara. ”I brought up the same concern before the Paulo Ramos fight. I dropped it because, back then, you were only teaching him a few tricks for fighting in a phone booth. And it worked. But this...”

Sera gestures toward the ring. ”This is Aramaki’s mentality. You didn’t just teach him the style. You changed him.”

Nakahara doesn’t answer. He keeps watching the ring, and a trace of uncertainty settles quietly into his thoughts. Not because the criticism offends him, but because part of him wonders whether Sera might be right.