VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Away from the cameras and endless negotiations, Ryoma has returned to the place where every fight truly begins. Sweat darkens the canvas beneath his feet as he repeats the same movement again and again, not throwing punches, but slipping, rolling, and driving forward with quiet precision.

He still doesn’t abandon the pressure fighter drills. Not when the man waiting for him is Miguel Cabello, widely regarded as the finest Cuban-style boxer of this generation.

Ryoma has enough confidence in his own footwork and boxing technique. If the fight turns into a tactical battle of movement, positioning, and point scoring over twelve rounds, he believes he can outbox the reigning WBO champion.

But he doesn’t like that idea, not even a little. Winning on the judges’ scorecards always comes last. Ryoma steps into the ring to stop his opponent, and nothing is more convincing than a knockout.

The pressure fighter drills remain part of his routine. The slips, the rolls, and the constant forward steps aren’t going anywhere.

”Good,” Nakahara says flatly.

Ryoma straightens up after completing another repetition.

”But Cabello’s not Liam,” Nakahara adds. ”You won’t pressure him with a one-dimensional, linear approach like this.”

Ryoma nods. ”I know. I’ve watched his fights countless times. I keep replaying his movement in my head.”

Nakahara shakes his head. ”Inside your head, sure. But that’s still not enough.”

He tilts his head toward the far corner of the gym. ”I had them bring this in yesterday. It’s actually for you.”

Ryoma follows his gaze. ”The double-end bag?”

Nakahara nods. ”It’s one of the best tools for learning how to pressure a fighter who never stops looking for space.”

Nakahara steps in front of the double-end bag and gives it a light jab. The bag snaps away, but he doesn’t rush after it.

Instead, he makes a small adjustment before throwing another jab.

Pop.

The bag springs away again.

Nakahara makes another adjustment, and then another jab. The sequence lasts only a few seconds before he lets the bag settle.

”If it’s about timing and accuracy...” Ryoma shrugs. ”You should know that’s already one of my strongest points.”

Nakahara pauses for a moment, one eyebrow lifting ever so slightly.

”Look again.”

Without another word, he repeats the drill.

Pop.

A brief adjustment.

Pop.

Another adjustment.

Pop.

Ryoma’s gaze follows the bag at first. And it doesn’t take long before something feels off. The rhythm isn’t anything like the countless double-end bag drills he has watched on Youtube.

Most fighters stay on the bag, chaining punches together to sharpen their timing, accuracy, and hand speed. But Nakahara isn’t doing any of that.

Every exchange begins with a single punch and ends just as quickly. Between them, he simply repositions himself before waiting for the bag to return.

After another few repetitions, Ryoma’s attention shifts from the bag to the feet. And the moment Nakahara notices it, he also stops and lets the bag settle.

”Do you understand now?”

”So it’s about angle and positioning?”

Nakahara nods. ”Partly.”

He hits the double-end bag again and lets it sway.

”The mistake most pressure fighters make against Cuban boxers is that they chase the movement. They see the opponent leave and they try to follow. But by the time they move, the angle is already gone.”

Ryoma keeps his eyes on the bag. ”So now it isn’t about catching the target. It’s about learning where to stand after the target moves.”

Nakahara gestures at his feet. ”Cabello doesn’t survive exchanges because he can run fast. He survives because he constantly forces his opponent to reset. Every time you think you’ve closed the distance, you’re starting over again.”

He makes the bag swing once more before stopping it with his hand. ”You can’t fight that kind of opponent by reacting. You have to control the space before he does.”

Ryoma slowly approaches the double-end bag. He doesn’t wait for further instruction.

The moment he stands in front of it, he gives the bag a light jab.

Pop.

Instead of following it, his feet adjust immediately; a small step, a slight change in angle, just enough to put himself in a better position before the bag returns.

Nakahara watches for a moment before quietly stepping back, giving Ryoma more space. He doesn’t offer any instruction, no correction, no reminder.

And there is no need for one, because Ryoma understands the purpose of the drill almost immediately. His movements are not perfect, but the idea is already there.

He isn’t chasing the bag. He isn’t trying to force himself closer to it. He is constantly adjusting around it.

It doesn’t take long before his rhythm begins to settle. Despite that, Nakahara isn’t surprised. He has always known Ryoma’s ability to absorb new information quickly.

But this drill is never about how quickly he could learn the movement. It isn’t about how hard he can punch, or how fast he can make the bag react.

The real challenge is maintaining that level of awareness. Every adjustment required a decision. Every movement required focus. There is no moment where he could simply rely on instinct.

The longer the drill continues, the more demanding it becomes. Not physically, but mentally. He needs to keep reading, adjusting, repeating, and doing it without allowing his concentration to slip.

***

After fifteen minutes of watching Ryoma work, Nakahara eventually leaves him to continue the drill on his own.

He shifts his attention back to Aramaki, who is taking a short break after finishing another round of slip and roll drills inside the ring.

”How’s it going?” Nakahara asks.

Aramaki looks over and shrugs.

”You tell me.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he walks back to the starting point and begins another repetition, moving through the sequence exactly as he has been instructed.

He slips under the rope, rolls to the outside, steps forward into range, and throws a punch before continuing the movement until he reaches the opposite side of the ring.

When he finishes, Aramaki naturally expects Nakahara to say something. A correction on his positioning, a comment about his timing, or perhaps another adjustment he has missed.

But when he turns around, he finds Nakahara’s attention has already returned to Ryoma. Aramaki deliberately steps into his line of sight, puffing his cheeks slightly in exaggerated annoyance.

”See? You’re neglecting me again.”

Nakahara finally looks at him and offers a small apologetic smile.

”Sorry.”

Aramaki only exhales, clearly not convinced, before turning his attention toward Ryoma as well.

”You’ve been looking so anxious lately,” he says. ”What? You think he can’t beat Cabello?”

Nakahara doesn’t answer immediately. His eyes remain on Ryoma, who is still working in front of the double-end bag from a distance.

For once, the concern on his face becomes visible. Finally, Ryoma makes a mistake, a small one. His foot placement is slightly late, forcing him to adjust after the bag has already moved away.

A few seconds later, it happens again. And then again. With each mistake, the slight concern on Nakahara’s face becomes harder to hide.

”Hey, Coach,” Aramaki calls again. ”Is Cabello really that good?”

This time, Nakahara exhales before finally deciding to answer. ”He’s a world champion. Of course he’s that good. He has been at the top level for years, fighting elite opponents every year. His technique and footwork make him extremely difficult to trap. And even if you manage to land clean shots on him, that doesn’t mean you can stop him.”

Nakahara pauses briefly, his attention returns fully to Ryoma. ”This might be the fight that demands the most mental stamina from Ryoma. Physical ability won’t be the problem. He has enough skill to compete with Cabello. But lately...”

He watches as Ryoma hesitates for a fraction of a second before making another adjustment.

”His concentration keeps getting divided,” Nakahara continues.

Then Ryoma makes another mistake, this time it lasts longer. Ryoma reacts late, forcing himself to recover the position instead of maintaining control of the drill.

Nakahara can only shake his head. ”I’m certain even now, he’s still thinking about that purse bid.”