VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Upstairs, the atmosphere couldn’t be more different. While the gym below buzzes with fighters chasing a place on the biggest night of their careers, the second floor belongs to the people trying to make that night happen.

Laptops, spreadsheets, and a whiteboard dominate the room. Every discussion revolves around projections, budgets, and contingency plans for a potential Tokyo Dome event.

Nakano, now officially a full-time employee after joining the company as an intern, stands beside the whiteboard with a marker in hand, writing down each figure as the team calls them out.

”Current projected event cost... 18.6 million dollars,” he says after writing the final number.

Kurogane studies the board for a brief moment before giving a small nod. ”That’s the estimated operating cost assuming Kenta’s title fight remains the co-main event. The purse bid for Ryoma versus Cabello not yet included.”

Nobusawa leans forward and taps the table with her pen. ”All right. Now let’s figure out how to pay for it. Ticketing, sponsorships, broadcasting, merchandise, hospitality packages… whatever ideas you have, bring them up. If it generates revenue, I want to hear it.”

Before anyone can respond, the meeting room door opens. Nakahara steps in first, with Ryoma following quietly behind him. The conversation comes to an immediate halt as every pair of eyes in the room turns toward them.

Ryoma, still looking tired from training, still in his sweat-soaked shirt, simply pulls the nearest unoccupied chair toward himself and drops into it. Nakahara, however, remains standing beside the conference table for a moment. His eyes move from the projected event cost on the whiteboard to the proposed fight card beneath it.

Kenta is penciled in for a voluntary title defense as the co-main event. Aramaki is scheduled just before him, also making a voluntary defense. The rest of the card consists of two Class-A non-contender bouts and three Class-B openers.

Looking at the lineup, Nakahara can’t help feeling unconvinced that fight card capable of filling the Tokyo Dome. Yet the projected operating cost has already climbed past eighteen million dollars.

”Eighteen million dollars, huh...” he mutters.

”And that doesn’t include the main event purse,” Kurogane replies.

Nakahara walks over to Kurogane, shaking his head as he pulls out a chair and sinks into it with a weary sigh.

”What?” Kurogane asks. ”You don’t look convinced.”

Nakahara exhales. ”Everyone downstairs wants in.”

”Everyone?”

”Everyone. Even Satoru.”

Kurogane slowly turns back toward the whiteboard. ”We could make Satoru one of the Class-B openers, but...”

He leaves the sentence unfinished. No one in the room needs him to explain the problem. If every professional fighter from this gym ends up on the card, the budget will balloon far beyond their current projection.

”Ryohei...” Kurogane murmurs, already running through the numbers in his head. ”A Japanese title defense?”

Nakahara shakes his head. ”He wants a unification fight with the OPBF champion. Okabe is asking for a Japanese title shot. And Aramaki wants a rematch with Rikiya Miyamoto.”

Kurogane blinks. For a brief moment, a smile forms on his face. On paper, it is exactly the kind of fight card that could justify the Tokyo Dome, a lineup packed with meaningful fights from top to bottom.

The smile, however, fades almost as quickly as it appears. Every meaningful fight comes with a meaningful purse. And putting all of them on the same night would place an enormous financial burden on the promotion.

”If all of them fight on the same night,” Kurogane says, his eyes still on the whiteboard, ”at least we won’t have to spread our 5.8 million-dollar annual event budget across multiple shows. But even then, it’s nowhere near enough just to cover the upfront costs. Don’t forget we still need to win the purse bid in London.”

Nakahara turns toward Ryoma. ”Well, kid? With the current fight card, the budget is at least reasonable. But I doubt this lineup fills even half of the Tokyo Dome. On the other hand, if you insist on holding the event there, we’ll have to stack the card with bigger names, and that drives the cost even higher.”

He folds his arms. ”Whichever way we look at it, it isn’t realistic. We’re not ready for the Tokyo Dome.”

Instead of backing down, Ryoma quietly shakes his head.

”Kenta’s fight.”

Everyone looks at him.

”His ceiling isn’t the regional level anymore. He’s clearly world class. And with him already twenty-eight, we can’t afford to waste his time. Instead of defending against the number eight contender in Asia-Pacific, we should find him a top-ten world contender.”

”A world-ranked contender?” Kurogane repeats. ”Have you lost your mind?”

”Give him someone above number ten,” Ryoma says. ”After winning the regional title, Kenta is already ranked twelfth by the WBO.”

Kurogane immediately shakes his head. ”No, Ryoma. That’s not the point.”

”What? Weren’t you the one who said this gym isn’t just about me anymore?” Ryoma argues.

”I want to support Kenta’s climb as well,” Kurogane says. ”But if we push him to that level now, we won’t have enough money left to make any of this happen.”

Ryoma doesn’t argue. He simply pushes his chair back and stands.

”Fine. I’ll visit NSN’s office now.”

Without another word, Ryoma turns toward the door and walks out, leaving no room for anyone to stop him.

”Damn...” Kurogane mutters, scratching the side of his head. ”He’s really set on making the Tokyo Dome happen.”

Nakahara watches the door close before letting out a quiet breath. ”That’s just who he is. Once he decides something, he won’t let it go. And that ambition is exactly what brought all of us this far.”

***

Around three in the afternoon, Ryoma arrives at the lobby of NSN Tokyo. Fresh from a shower and dressed in a neatly tailored suit, he looks presentable enough for a business meeting.

The only thing he can’t wash away is the fatigue lingering from the training. Leaning back against the sofa, he quietly conserves his energy while the receptionist reaches for the intercom.

”Reika-sama. Ryoma Takeda from Ronin Fight Management is here.”

[Eh? Ryoma?]

Reika’s voice comes through the speaker, sounding genuinely surprised.

[Is he with anyone?]

”No. He’s alone.”

The line falls unusually quiet. The receptionist waits for several seconds before cautiously leaning closer to the intercom, unsure whether Reika is still there.

Upstairs, Reika sits frozen behind her desk. Since becoming the head of NSN’s Tokyo branch, she has grown accustomed to meeting executives, sponsors, and promoters. Because of that, she rarely finds the time to visit Nakahara Gym anymore.

Yet somehow, the thought of meeting Ryoma now makes her far more nervous than facing any boardroom full of executives.

Almost instinctively, she opens the drawer of her desk, pulls out a compact mirror and a small makeup pouch, then hurriedly checks her hair, touches up the corner of her eyes, and smooths a few loose strands behind her ear.

Meanwhile, Aki, who has been quietly admiring the view through the floor-to-ceiling windows, finally turns around.

”Reika... what’s gotten into you?”

”Ryoma’s here,” Reika blurts out almost without thinking.

Aki blinks. ”Eh? Really?”

Before either of them can say another word, the neglected intercom crackles again.

[Um... Reika-sama?]

Reika’s eyes widen. ”Ah, sorry. What is it?”

[Regarding Ryoma Takeda. He says he’d like to discuss his next Tokyo Dome project with you, and he expects to have a meeting. He also said your father should have already informed you in advance.]

The excitement on Reika’s face quietly melts away. It isn’t a surprise visit, and of course, there won’t be a dinner invitation as she expected.

It’s just business, and now that she thinks about it, her father had indeed mentioned it beforehand.

”…I see. Please show him up.”

[Certainly.]

The line disconnects. And without wasting another second, Reika presses another button on the intercom.

”Maria.”

[Yes?]

”Could you come to my office? Ryoma is coming up to discuss his Tokyo Dome project.”

[Right away.]

As the second call ends, Reika looks up, only to find Aki standing there with her jaw hanging open.

”Tokyo Dome?” she says. ”Did I hear that right?”

Reika hides her disappointment, masking it with a new excitement.

”He’s planning to stage his world title fight there.”

”Whoa...”

Then Reika’s expression changes. ”...Sorry, Aki. You probably weren’t supposed to hear that. You’re still a journalist.”

Aki laughs and mimes zipping her lips. ”Relax. I know how to keep a secret.”

Moments later, a knock comes from the door.

”Come in,” Reika replies.

The door opens, and an employee politely steps aside. Ryoma bows lightly in thanks before stepping inside.

As soon as he looks up, however, he freezes.

”...Aki?”

”Hey, Ryoma...” Aki waves cheerfully. ”Long time no see.”

”Yeah... long time no see.” He tilts his head. ”Where have you been lately?”

”Ah, right. I’ve been meaning to tell you.” She smiles sheepishly. ”My boss sent me to the United States. Helping my senior cover Malik Okoye.”

”Malik Okoye?”

”Yeah. He’s fighting Elliot Grave soon for the vacant WBC world title Jean-Pascal Roy gave up.”

Ryoma pauses for a moment. Lately, his attention has been consumed entirely by everything happening around the WBO. Without realizing it, he has stopped following developments in the other sanctioning bodies.