VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Just as Ryoma reaches for the rear door of the waiting sedan, he slows and instinctively glances across the parking area. More than two hundred meters away, a dark sedan quietly catches his attention.

Two men are sitting inside. They simply watch in silence, their calm and flat expressions giving Ryoma the faint impression that they are observing him rather than merely looking.

”Takeda-san?”

Hayakawa’s voice gently pulls him back that Ryoma turns slightly toward him.

”What is it?” Hayakawa asks.

Ryoma glances once more toward the distant sedan before giving a small shake of his head.

”...Nothing.”

He opens the door and climbs into the car.

Moments later, the convoy slowly pulls away from the terminal. Three black sedans move out first, followed by a minivan carrying the rest of Ronin’s delegation.

Ryoma shares the lead sedan with Hayakawa and one member of his security detail, while Kurogane, Sera, Kaito, and the remaining guards occupy the vehicle behind them.

Another sedan at the front and one at the rear, both arranged by the WBO, quietly complete the convoy as they leave Heathrow.

Several moments later, the black SUV quietly pulls away and follows the convoy from a comfortable distance. The man in the passenger seat keeps his eyes on the road ahead as he speaks into his phone.

”Security around him is tighter than we expected.”

[We already heard the WBO sent people to receive him at the airport.]

”Not just the WBO,” the man replies. ”There are eight others with him, all Asian. Two are members of his team, the manager and the assistant trainer. The other one is almost certainly the representative from Aqualis Labs. He’s appeared at Takeda’s events often enough.”

[And the others?]

”Judging by the way they move, I’d say they’re the security team he brought from Japan.”

[Alright. Keep following them to the hotel, but don’t get too close. Call me again if anything changes.]

”Yes, sir.”

***

Several miles away, Alistair Vaughan stands near the bed in a hotel room. He just ends a phone call before tossing the phone onto the bed.

Crossing the room, he stops at the work desk by the window, where his laptop has been left open in sleep mode. A slight movement of the cursor wakes the screen, revealing the Windows desktop.

He clicks the familiar blue Skype icon and waits as the application begins connecting. Several moments pass before the first notification appears.

Rafael Mendes is the first to join the call from his hotel in Windsor, where he has chosen to stay ahead of the purse bid.

Dominic Bowman follows shortly after from Guildford, offering nothing more than a brief nod before settling into his chair.

The final window has actually been connected from the very beginning. For a while, however, it shows only part of a bedroom, with an open suitcase resting on the bed and no one in front of the camera.

A few moments later, Jackson Rhodes walks into view while adjusting the knot of his tie.

”Morning, gentlemen. Sorry. I’m still packing.”

He reaches over to adjust the laptop slightly.

”Go ahead and start. I’m listening.”

Without another word, he steps back out of frame, leaving only the faint sounds of drawers opening and clothes being folded somewhere off camera.

Bowman lets out a quiet sigh, clearly unimpressed, before turning his attention toward Vaughan.

”So, how are things progressing?”

Vaughan leans back slightly in his chair. ”Takeda’s arrived in London. He brought his own security team from Japan.”

”It means he still believes Ramirez wasn’t acting alone,” Mendes says.

”My men are following them to the hotel now,” Vaughan replies.

Bowman gives a small nod. ”Just keep watching them. Don’t do anything unnecessary. Right now, all we need to know is who’s standing beside him and how much firepower he’ll have when the bidding starts.”

”Aqualis Labs is with him again,” Vaughan adds. ”Their representative arrived alongside the kid. Still, I doubt they’ll invest that aggressively. Two million as title sponsor already sounds ambitious. Three million would be my absolute limit.”

”I think we can put them aside for now,” Mendes says. ”Our objective is still the same; bring the fight to Las Vegas. But instead of worrying about Takeda’s financial backing... there’s someone else we should be paying attention to.”

Bowman looks at him. ”Who?”

”Dmitri Erzhanov,” Mendes says. ”I saw him leaving the hotel lobby this morning. I have a feeling he’s already in London.”

Bowman slowly leans back. ”Erzhanov... If he’s joining the purse bid, we’ll have to rethink everything.”

For several moments, no one says another word. Each of them quietly sinks into his own calculations.

Then Jackson suddenly walks back into view, buttoning the cuff of his shirt while looking from one face to another.

”What’s going on?” he asks, ”Why haven’t you guys started yet?”

Vaughan gives him a displeased look, but Jackson simply shrugs and then drops into his chair.

”Sorry,” he says. I just got back from the bathroom. So, what did I miss?”

”There’s a chance Dmitri Erzhanov will join the bidding,” Bowman says. ”If he does, the market value of this purse bid goes up immediately.”

”Which means we’ll have to raise our offer if we still want to bring the fight to Vegas,” Mendes adds.

Vaughan looks around the screen. ”Any thoughts?”

Bowman rubs his chin before answering. ”Honestly, even seven or eight million already inflates Cabello’s value. But Erzhanov won’t care about that. He’s not interested in Cabello. He’s interested in Ryoma Takeda. He’ll want control of the kid.”

He lowers his eyes, quietly running through the numbers. ”The real question is how far he’s willing to push Takeda’s market value. As the challenger, Takeda only receives thirty percent of the purse. If I were Erzhanov, I’d probably cap his purse at around four million dollars.”

He stops there, still calculating. But Vaughan finishes the equation for him first.

”That puts the total purse at roughly thirteen million.”

Mendes and Bowman remain silent. Even for them, thirteen million dollars is an uncomfortable figure, despite the fact that they’ll be sharing the burden.

”Well, it hardly makes any difference to me,” Jackson says casually. ”I already told you, I’m staying out of this.”

Bowman frowns. ”Then why are you coming to London? First you say you won’t get involved. Then you sit through this meeting, only to submit your own bid and screw the rest of us.”

Jackson laughs. ”Of course I’ll submit a bid. Just for appearances. If I don’t, people will start wondering why Jackson Rhodes suddenly disappeared after Ramirez got arrested.”

He waves a hand dismissively. ”I’ll stay below whatever number you guys decide. So go on. How much are you planning to bid?”

The other three exchange wary glances before falling silent once more.

Finally, Bowman breaks it. ”Let’s make it fifteen million.”

Mendes immediately turns toward him. ”Isn’t that too high? At that number, Cabello walks away with more than ten million dollars. And then what?”

”We’ll deal with him afterward,” Vaughan replies calmly. ”This bid only matters today. With Ramirez in prison, he’ll have no choice but to rely on us.”

Mendes narrows his eyes. ”And if he refuses?”

Vaughan’s expression never changes. ”Then we end his career.”

***

Meanwhile, Ryoma spends the drive through London with the seat slightly reclined, an eye mask covering his face. His body is unmistakably exhausted, yet no matter how hard he tries, his mind refuses to rest.

Before leaving Tokyo, Ronin and NSN had already agreed to become partners for the Tokyo Dome project. Still, not a single representative from NSN has come to London. The arrangement is intentional; the fewer people know about their partnership, the better.

Even so, Ryoma is still waiting for one thing. Maria had promised that she would contact him once Logan finished assessing the market ahead of the purse bid. Yet even after arriving in London, his phone has remained silent.

Nearly an hour later, the convoy finally reaches the hotel. As the sedan comes to a stop, Hayakawa steps out first, quickly scanning the surroundings before opening the rear door.

Ryoma climbs out with a quiet nod. As always, his eyes instinctively roam across the area, taking in faces, movements, and parked vehicles.

Then his gaze settles. More than three hundred meters away, across the intersection, he catches the same black SUV parked along the roadside.

The distance is considerable, but it isn’t enough to prevent Ryoma from reading the license plate.

”Hayakawa,” he says, never taking his eyes off the vehicle.

Hayakawa immediately turns toward him. Seeing the seriousness in Ryoma’s expression, he follows his line of sight.

”What is it?”

”That SUV.” Ryoma tilts his chin ever so slightly. ”They’ve been following us since the airport.”

Hayakawa narrows his eyes, trying to make out the vehicle through the afternoon traffic.

”You sure?”

”I memorized the license plate before we left the airport.”

At that exact moment, Ryoma’s phone begins to ring.

He glances at the screen. It’s a call from Maria.

”Yes?”

[I just heard from Logan. There’s a good chance Dmitri Erzhanov will be joining the purse bid.]

Ryoma’s expression tightens slightly. ”Erzhanov...”

[If that’s true, the market could climb as high as fifteen million dollars.]

Before he can say anything, Ryoma sees the SUV quietly pulls away from the curb, reaches the next intersection, and turns out of sight.

[So, are you still serious about bringing this fight to Tokyo Dome?]

”Of course,” Ryoma replies calmly. ”Did you think I had another choice? My life is on the line here.”