VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

The two of them remain standing by the ropes, quietly watching Ryoma continue the drill. After a while, Aramaki clears his throat, trying to steal Nakahara’s attention again.

”I heard that drill is specifically for dealing with Cuban-style fighters.”

Nakahara nods without taking his eyes off Ryoma.

”It is.”

”So... that’s the answer?”

A faint smile appears on Nakahara’s face.

”If only boxing were that simple.”

He watches Ryoma make another adjustment around the returning bag.

”It won’t make the style ineffective. Nothing can. But it teaches you how to stop giving that style exactly what it wants.”

Aramaki slowly nods. And after that, silence settles between them again, broken only by the rhythmic pop of the double-end bag echoing across the gym.

Nakahara keeps watching Ryoma, but after a while he notices Aramaki isn’t. From the corner of his eye, he catches the younger man glancing at him every few seconds before looking away again, as if rehearsing something in his head.

Nakahara pretends not to notice, at least after a few moments pass, realization kicks in. And finally, the old man really turns his head.

”...Don’t tell me you want a rematch with Rikiya Miyamoto.”

Aramaki blinks in surprise. ”Coach... you really do understand me.”

Nakahara snorts. ”You couldn’t have made it any more obvious.”

Aramaki scratches the back of his head, laughing awkwardly. ”You see… I earned my title shot against Serrano by beating Rikiya. But you know how that fight went. I won because of one lucky punch... the only clean punch I landed after spending three rounds unable to do anything.”

Nakahara lets out a quiet sigh before returning his eyes to Ryoma.

”Are you sure that’s the fight you want?” he asks flatly.

”I don’t know if I can beat him,” Aramaki admits. ”But I can’t leave it like this. It doesn’t feel finished.”

”Look, your mandatory defense isn’t due yet,” Nakahara says. ”And from what I’ve heard, Serrano has already left for America after terminating his contract with Kirizume.”

Aramaki looks so shocked. ”Eeh? Is that true?”

Nakahara nods. ”That makes Rikiya the top available contender. If nothing changes, he’ll become the legitimate challenger for your mandatory defense.”

A grin slowly spreads across Aramaki’s face. ”Perfect.”

”However,” Nakahara continues before Aramaki’s grin grows any wider, ”we could just give you a voluntary defense first. A safer one. You’d keep the Japanese title a little longer.”

Aramaki’s smile fades. And the moment Nakahara shoots him a sharp look, Aramaki instinctively swallows hard, suddenly feeling like the old man still doesn’t believe he belongs at this level.

”You told me you beat Rikiya with one lucky punch,” Nakahara says. ”I’m not going to argue with that. Even Ryoma agrees.”

Aramaki lowers his gaze for a second before lifting it again.

”That’s exactly why, Coach. Give me the rematch.”

He glances toward Ryoma, who is still working in front of the double-end bag.

”And let me train the way Ryoma is. Rikiya uses Cuban boxing too.”

After a brief moment of consideration, Nakahara gives a small shrug. Somehow, he has a feeling Aramaki’s path will cross with Serrano again someday. And if Serrano is truly heading to the United States to continue developing under the influence of Cuban boxing, perhaps a rematch with Rikiya is simply the fight Aramaki needs at this stage.

”I’ll talk to Ryoma about it later,” Nakahara says. ”If we win the purse bid in London and can secure your rematch with Rikiya, we might as well put you on the undercard at the Tokyo Dome.”

Aramaki blinks. ”Tokyo Dome?”

Realizing what he has just let slip, Nakahara clears his throat.

”Nothing’s been decided yet,” he says. ”Keep that to yourself for now. I don’t want anyone feeling unnecessary pressure before we’ve even secured the fight.”

***

Unfortunately for Nakahara, the secret proves remarkably short-lived.

Just as Ryoma finishes the final repetition of the drill and Nakahara is about to climb down from the ring with Aramaki, Ryohei suddenly walks over with a look of unmistakable dissatisfaction.

”Old man, this is unfair,” he says without preamble.

Nakahara lets out an exhausted sigh. ”What now?”

”Don’t play dumb.” Ryohei fixes him with a glare. ”I heard you’re planning a mega event at the Tokyo Dome for Ryoma’s world title fight against Miguel Cabello. And you’re putting Kenta in the co-main again.”

He folds his arms. ”So where does that leave me?”

For a brief moment, Nakahara simply stares at him. Then he slowly turns toward Aramaki. And Aramaki immediately points at himself before frantically shaking his head.

And before he can answer Ryohei, Nakahara realizes the conversation has already attracted far more attention than he would have liked. Training throughout the gym begins to slow. One by one, the fighters glance toward the ring.

Even Kenta freezes, his expression betraying a hint of surprise before it gradually gives way to pressure. If the rumor was true, expectations for him had just grown without anyone asking whether he wanted them.

Near the staircase leading to the second floor, Ryoma stops in his tracks. He doesn’t say a word, but the slight tightening of his expression says enough.

The plan has yet to move beyond discussion, and already it is affecting the people around him. Exactly what Nakahara had hoped to avoid.

Ryohei mistakes Nakahara’s silence for hesitation and presses on. ”Give me a unification title fight against the OPBF champion. And make me the co-main event this time. Don’t keep giving that spot to Kenta.”

Kenta lets out an incredulous laugh. ”Why am I getting dragged into this?”

Ryohei shoots him a glare. ”Because somehow you’re always the one standing next to Ryoma on the poster.”

”That’s not my decision.”

”Exactly. So I’m talking to the old man.”

Nakahara pinches the bridge of his nose, already regretting having let the conversation go this far.

Meanwhile, Ryoma’s gaze wanders across the gym, trying to figure out where Ryohei could have heard about it.

As far as he could remember, only four people had been present during the meeting with Cabello’s team when the idea of holding the fight at the Tokyo Dome first came up.

Himself and Nakahara certainly weren’t the ones spreading unfinished plans, and Kurogane was the last person he would suspect of leaking anything.

That left only one possibility. And somehow, the moment Ryoma’s eyes settle on Toyama, the latter immediately raises a hand and lowers his head.

”Gomenasai...”

Ryoma lets out a long sigh and shakes his head once. There is no point scolding him now. Instead, he walks toward the ring, where Ryohei is still refusing to let the matter go.

”I already told you,” Nakahara says, sounding increasingly tired. ”Nothing has been decided yet. Do you think booking the Tokyo Dome is as easy as making instant noodles?”

”I don’t care,” Ryohei insists. ”I want you to promise me, if you win the purse bid and the fight really ends up at the Tokyo Dome, give me a unification title fight against the OPBF champion. And make me the co-main event.”

”Forget the Tokyo Dome,” Ryoma cuts in flatly. ”I’m not even giving you the OPBF champion.”

Ryohei immediately turns toward him, his face twisting with irritation. ”Tch. I knew it. You’ve been afraid I’d catch up to you. Now that you’re the promoter around here, you’re deliberately holding my career back.”

”Holding your career back?” Ryoma replies calmly. ”You’ve defended your Japanese title twice. That’s it. And more than half the country still believes you became champion with a lucky punch. Umemoto has been asking for a rematch for months, and you’ve done nothing but avoid him.”

”I haven’t been avoiding him,” Ryohei shoots back. ”I’m simply confident enough to move beyond the national circuit.”

”Prove it after beating Umemoto,” Ryoma says.

Ryohei clicks his tongue and ignores him, turning back to Nakahara instead. ”Old man, you’re the one in charge here. Your favorite is obviously being unfair to me. I want the OPBF champion. Give me that fight.”

”You can have the OPBF champion,” Ryoma cuts in before Nakahara can respond. ”Just not on my card. I’m not putting a coward on the undercard of my world title fight.”

The words hit harder than Ryohei expects. His frustration is obvious, yet for a brief moment, he cannot find anything to say.

Ryoma takes another step closer. ”If you want to fight on the same stage as me, accept Umemoto’s rematch and shut him up first.”

Ryohei clenches his jaw, still clearly not accepting it, but this time, he can’t say anything.

”What’s wrong?” Ryoma asks. ”Scared?”

”I’m not scared.”

”Then why are you avoiding him?”

”I already beat him.”

”Then beating him again shouldn’t be a problem.”

Ryohei falls silent once more. The muscles along his jaw tighten as he stares back at Ryoma, searching for something to say, until finally he throws both hands into the air in exasperation.

”Fine! I’ll give Umemoto his rematch. Happy now?”

Ryoma is just about to answer when another voice cuts through the gym.

”Hey, don’t forget about me.”

Everyone turns toward Okabe, who has one hand raised as though waiting to be called on in class.

”I’m ranked number two now,” he says with a grin. ”I want a title shot too.”

Not wanting to be the only one left out, even Satoru timidly raises his hand. ”Me too. I failed to get my Class-A license, so I couldn’t enter the Class-A Tournament. At least let me fight as the opener.”

For a moment, Nakahara simply stares at him in disbelief. He had expected the mere mention of the Tokyo Dome to weigh heavily on everyone in the gym, creating unnecessary pressure before anything had even been finalized. Instead, the complete opposite has happened.

One after another, his fighters are volunteering themselves, each determined to earn a place on the card. Even Satoru, the youngest professional in the gym, doesn’t want to be left behind.

Nakahara lets out a long sigh before raising one hand, signaling an end to the discussion.

”Enough.”

He climbs down from the ring and starts walking toward the staircase leading to the second floor.

”Kid,” he calls without looking back. ”Let’s have a meeting upstairs.”

Ryoma doesn’t say a word. He simply turns around and follows after Nakahara, leaving the rest of the gym behind as the two disappear toward the second floor.