VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

To Nakahara’s surprise, Logan doesn’t look offended in the slightest. His composure never wavers. Instead, he simply studies Ryoma for another moment before letting out a quiet breath.

”After the success of our last event,” Logan says calmly, ”I thought we’d built a certain level of trust between us. Enough to make me interested in continuing our partnership. But I understand why you’d think that way, because you’re not entirely wrong.”

”And you still expect me to work with you?” Ryoma asks.

”Except for one thing,” Logan continues. ”I have absolutely no connection to Hugo Ramirez.”

Ryoma lets a short chuckle with a scoff. ”You won’t buy my trust with words.”

Logan gives a small nod before calmly buttoning his suit jacket. ”In that case, there’s no point forcing this conversation.”

He rises from his chair and walks toward the door. But after only taking a few steps, he stops and turns back, raising a finger as though remembering one final thought.

”You know,” he says, ”I’ve never believed in enemies when it comes to business. There are only risks and opportunities. Right now, I see a considerable risk that your next fight will end up in Las Vegas... and a very real possibility that you won’t even make it into the ring.”

Ryoma’s eyes narrow. ”Is that a threat?”

”No,” Logan replies evenly. ”A warning. You’re correct about Ramirez. He was behind Manila, and he acted alone. But don’t mistake that for believing he was the only one with an interest in stopping your rise.”

He holds Ryoma’s gaze for another moment before continuing. ”Out there, business isn’t always built on loyalty. It’s built on overlapping interests. People who have nothing to do with one another can still benefit from the same outcome. I simply recognized that reality... and saw an opportunity.”

He reaches for the doorknob before adding one last sentence over his shoulder. ”If you ever change your mind... you know where to find my daughter.”

Nakahara remains seated for another second, glancing awkwardly between the closed office door and Ryoma. The conversation has ended, yet the tension seems reluctant to leave the room.

Letting out a quiet cough, he eventually rises from his chair.

”Well... I’ll see him off.”

Ryoma, however, remains alone inside the office, Logan’s final words continue echoing in his mind. He sits motionless for several more seconds before finally pushing himself up from his chair.

He stands near the window overlooking the street below. From there, he watches Logan emerge from the building.

As expected, the waiting reporters immediately converge on him, microphones and cameras rising from every direction.

”Mr. Rhodes! What kind of meeting did you have with Ronin Fight Management?”

”Is NSN planning another partnership with Ryoma Takeda?”

”Can you tell us whether the world title fight will be held in Japan or in the United States?”

Logan slows his pace without stopping completely, wearing the same composed smile he has carried throughout the meeting.

”I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed,” he says lightly. ”Today’s visit was nothing more than a courtesy call. We had a very successful partnership at Yoyogi not long ago, so I simply wanted to congratulate them in person.”

”So there are no business discussions?”

Logan smiles faintly. ”In this industry, business conversations never truly stop. As for the future... of course we’d be delighted if NSN and Ronin Fight Management had the opportunity to work together again.”

Before another question can follow, a taxi suddenly pulls up nearby. For a split second, the entire crowd freezes, catching who’s sitting on the taxi’s passenger seat.

”Miguel Cabello...?”

”And Jorge Rivera!”

The reporters abandon Logan almost instantly, rushing toward the taxi as microphones, cameras, and shouted questions converge from every direction.

”Mr. Cabello! Are you here to negotiate with Ryoma Takeda?”

”Have talks with Ronin Fight Management already begun?”

The sudden commotion creates a clear path where, only moments ago, Logan had been completely surrounded.

Without showing the slightest surprise, Logan simply continues walking toward the black Lexus waiting at the curb.

As he passes the taxi, his eyes briefly meet Cabello’s through the window. Neither man smiles, neither acknowledges the other. A moment later, Logan calmly gets into the Lexus, and the car pulls away from the curb.

Up on the second floor, Ryoma stands quietly by the office window, watching the unexpected commotion unfold below. Even the journalists who had been waiting patiently inside the café across the street have rushed outside toward the taxi.

From this angle, however, Ryoma can only see the crowd gathering around it. Then his eyes narrow slightly, following the movement of the reporters’ lips.

>

>

When Cabello and Rivera finally step out of the taxi, Ryoma shows no sign of surprise. He simply watches from the second-floor window as the reporters swarm them, leaving the two visitors hardly enough room to take a single step away from the vehicle.

A moment later, there’s a knock at the office door before Toyama peeks inside without hurry.

”Ryoma-kun, Miguel Cabello and his trainer are here.”

”I’ve seen them,” Ryoma replies with a small nod, his eyes still on the scene outside. ”Ask the youngsters to clear them a path. They won’t even make it to the entrance at this rate.”

***

Moments later, several of Ronin’s young fighters quickly make their way outside, trying to clear a path through the crowd.

But the effort proves almost pointless because Miguel Cabello himself makes no attempt to leave the taxi.

He remains standing beside the open door, sunglasses perched on his face as though he has just stepped onto a red carpet rather than arrived for a business meeting.

”Champ! Another picture!”

Cabello flashes a practiced grin before pointing a thumb toward his own chest.

”Don’t worry,” he says with a laugh. ”You’ll all get your headlines today.”

Another microphone is thrust toward him. And Cabello simply declares himself by spreading his arms theatrically.

”Yes, I’m here because the world wants this fight. Who wouldn’t want to see the biggest star in the Americas against the biggest star in Japan?”

”Do you think you’ll beat Ryoma?”

Cabello scoffs as though the answer should be obvious. ”You don’t build a superstar by hiding from challenges. Tell your people to enjoy the show. They’re about to witness the greatest world champion this division has ever seen.”

The impromptu press conference drags on far longer than it should. Rivera glances repeatedly toward the traffic beginning to build behind the taxi before finally stepping between Cabello and the waiting microphones.

”That’s enough for today,” he says, forcing a polite smile. ”We’re here for private business, not a media event.”

”Just one more question!”

Rivera raises a hand apologetically. ”I’m sorry. We’ll speak to the media after we’re done.”

Cabello lets out a quiet sigh, clearly reluctant to end the attention. ”They really can’t get enough of me.”

He chuckles to himself before finally allowing Rivera to steer him toward the entrance, where several of Ronin’s younger fighters have formed a narrow corridor to keep the reporters from closing in again.

Even then, Cabello walks at an unhurried pace, occasionally lifting a hand to acknowledge the cameras as though making one final lap before leaving the stage.

The moment he steps inside the gym, his chin rises instinctively.

”Good day everyone!”

His eyes sweep slowly across the training area, carrying the unmistakable air of a reigning star expecting an audience to stop what they’re doing and admire his arrival. Instead, the gym barely reacts.

Kenta is the only professional boxer there, spending his time with a group of youngsters. He notices Cabello for no more than a brief glance, then simply claps his hands once.

”Alright,” he says. ”Let’s continue.”

The youngsters immediately refocus on the lesson, and the rhythmic sound of gloves striking mitts fills the gym once again, leaving Cabello standing there with no grand reception waiting for him.

For people who have grown accustomed to sharing the gym with an even bigger star, Miguel Cabello’s presence simply isn’t enough to interrupt their day.

Cabello’s jaw tightens ever so slightly. For perhaps the first time since arriving, his presence has failed to command the attention he believes it deserves.

”So that’s how it is...” he mutters. ”Fine. Once I beat your golden boy... none of you will be able to ignore me anymore.”

Rivera gently taps Cabello’s arm, signaling it is time to move.

”Come on,” he says. ”We’re here to negotiate.”

Cabello gives one last glance toward the gym before following him. Nakahara and Kurogane take the lead toward the staircase, while Cabello strolls behind them with both hands tucked inside his pockets, carrying himself with the swagger of a man who believes he belongs wherever the spotlight is.

Moments later, they step into the CEO’s office. Inside, Ryoma is already waiting, standing quietly beside the window behind his desk, looking toward the door as the visitors enter.

Cabello lets his eyes wander across the room before they settle on Ryoma. A crooked smile slowly spreads across his face.

”Guess I’ve finally made it to the final boss.”

Kurogane gestures toward the sofa.

”Please.”

Rivera takes the first seat, followed by Kurogane and Nakahara. Cabello drops onto the remaining seat last.

Toyama steps forward with a courteous bow.

”Would you… prefer tea or coffee?”

Cabello barely looks at him. Casually, he props both feet onto the coffee table, crossing one ankle over the other as though he owns the room.

”Anything’s fine.”

Ryoma, who has just started walking toward them, suddenly stops, a faint twitch appears between his brows.

And before Toyama reaches the door, Ryoma gently places a hand on his shoulder, walking past him to the office door and pulls it open, holding it wide.

”I’m sorry, Mr. Rivera,” he says evenly. ”Our meeting ends here.”

Rivera freezes. ”...Excuse me?”

Ryoma doesn’t even look at him, taking his face way from the guests.

”Take your kid home and teach him some manners. Until then... there won’t be any negotiation between us.”