VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Meanwhile, Ryoma and Aramaki are already seated side by side inside Takeda Barber, each draped beneath a barber cape as another kind of preparation quietly gets underway before training camp.

Ryoma sits in the chair nearest the window, his mother standing behind him with comb and scissors moving in the familiar rhythm she has repeated since he was a child.

Beside them, Aramaki receives the same treatment from his wife, Kaori, who trims his hair with the relaxed confidence of someone who has long since accepted that cutting her husband’s hair is simply another part of married life.

Not far away, Nanako sits cross-legged on the floor, entirely absorbed in a drama of her own creation. Surrounded by dolls, stuffed animals, and plastic figurines, she assigns each one a role with complete authority.

”No,” she declares to a plush rabbit. ”You can’t arrest the dragon yet.”

She immediately picks up the dragon.

”But I didn’t do anything.”

”You looked suspicious.”

”That isn’t illegal.”

”It is in this kingdom.”

Neither Ryoma nor Aramaki so much as glances in her direction. By now, both men have learned that questioning the laws governing Nanako’s imaginary world is a battle nobody has ever won.

Then, without warning, Aramaki lets out a quiet chuckle. Ryoma, catching Aramaki’s expression in the mirror, already knows exactly where his thoughts have wandered.

”Don’t you ever start it,” he says flatly.

Fumiko pauses mid-cut, tilting her head. ”Hm? What is it?”

Aramaki grins. ”It’s your son. He nearly got all of us killed today.”

Fumiko blinks. ”...Excuse me?”

”It’s that charm of his,” Aramaki says with mock seriousness. ”Apparently it’s becoming a public safety hazard.”

Almost instantly, Fumiko smiles as though she already knows the answer. ”This is about Reika again, isn’t it?”

”Yeah,” Aramaki replies. ”The poor girl couldn’t stop stealing glances at him through the rearview mirror. And when there wasn’t an opportunity, she made one. She got so distracted she nearly forgot she was supposed to be driving.”

Kaori can’t help smiling as she continues trimming Aramaki’s hair. ”Poor Reika,” she says. ”She’s a beautiful girl too. The strange part is that she still hasn’t managed to steal your attention, Ryoma.”

Ryoma lets out a long, weary sigh. ”To be honest, every time she shows up, she destroys my concentration.”

A laugh escapes Kaori. ”You don’t have to be so hard on yourself. Reika seems kind, she’s incredibly wealthy, and…”

”Oh, please,” Ryoma cuts in before she can finish. ”I already have more on my plate than I can handle. Do you think it’s easy being a boxer and a promoter at the same time? Adding a naïve, self-centered girl into my life would only turn everything into a disaster.”

His tone remains calm, though noticeably more serious than before. ”And it wouldn’t just affect me. There are too many people depending on me now. Everyone at the gym is tied to what I do. If I start making stupid personal decisions, they pay the price too.”

Aramaki lets out an amused chuckle. ”Hoo... listen to you. Acting like the most important man in the room already.”

”I don’t need anyone to think I’m important,” Ryoma replies matter-of-factly. ”But that’s the reality we’re living in now. None of you can do anything without me. It’s as simple as that.”

Kaori and Aramaki exchange a glance before both of them burst into the same suppressed laughter, the kind that comes out in short, muffled snickers rather than anything loud.

There is something oddly entertaining about watching Ryoma explain himself so earnestly. Whenever he lowers his guard like this, he becomes almost painfully transparent, making him far too easy to tease.

Standing behind Ryoma, however, Fumiko has stopped cutting for a moment. Her reflection in the mirror is noticeably quieter than before, her eyes carrying a trace of sadness that hadn’t been there a few moments earlier.

Aramaki and Kaori notice it, and the smile slips from their faces almost immediately.

The silence lingers until Fumiko finally speaks.

”...Is that why you pushed Kaede out of your life?”

Ryoma doesn’t answer, simply continues looking at his own reflection. For Fumiko, that silence is answer enough.

The cheerful mood that had filled the barbershop only moments ago vanishes so completely that even little Nanako, still playing with her dolls in the corner, seems strangely loud by comparison.

Several long seconds pass. Then Ryoma suddenly breaks the silence with a completely unexpected request.

”Mom... can you just shave it all off?”

Fumiko blinks. ”Eh? Shave it all off?”

”If I’m bald...,” Ryoma says, ”maybe girls will finally stop disrupting my life.”

***

The following morning, Ronin Gym is unusually lively long before sunrise. Training bags are stacked neatly along the sidewalk while coaches make one final check of the equipment.

Hiroshi stands beside the familiar Aqualis Labs-branded minivan, making sure every last suitcase somehow finds room inside.

A short distance away, Dr. Mizuno and his newly assigned assistant wait beside a separate vehicle provided by Aqualis Labs, discussing the route to the training camp.

And then there is Ryohei, leaning casually against his sports car, polishing away imaginary dust with a microfiber cloth that probably costs more than most people would spend on lunch.

Okabe watches him for a moment before shaking his head. ”Come on, that’s no fun. This is supposed to be a team trip. Leave the new toy at home and ride with the rest of us. Isn’t that the whole point?”

Ryohei snorts. ”You’ll understand once you make enough money to buy your own car.” He slips into the driver’s seat before adding without much interest. ”Until then, enjoy riding around in a van that was handed to you by someone else.”

Okabe blinks twice, genuinely struggling to figure out what Ryohei is trying to imply.

”...Are you mocking me?”

Ryohei merely shrugs. ”Call it an insult if you want. Or take it as motivation. That’s entirely up to you.”

Okabe may have been the one answering, but everyone from the coaching staff immediately understands who Ryohei is really taking aim at. The remark has very little to do with Okabe and everything to do with Ryoma.

It’s a thinly veiled jab at the Aqualis Labs-sponsored minivan, the modest apartment Ryoma inherited from his late father, and the quiet reality that, despite leading the company, Ryoma still lives far more modestly than the national champion now mocking him.

Ryoma understands that perfectly well, yet his expression never changes. He simply stands near the entrance of the gym in a casual suit, both hands tucked into his pockets, watching Ryohei with the same calm face he seems to wear whenever someone tries to provoke him.

Despite being the leader, Ryoma accepts that changing another person’s character has never been one of his responsibilities.

Nakahara then glances toward him. ”You’re really not coming?”

Ryoma gives only the slightest shake of his head. And Nakahara nods as though the answer had been expected all along.

”Then let’s move.”

Within moments, the minivan pulls away from the curb, followed by Dr. Mizuno’s car. A second later, Ryohei’s sports car slips into the street behind them.

Silence settles over the front of the gym. Only Ryoma and Kurogane remain. And parked beside the entrance is Nakahara’s well-worn electric scooter.

”So,” Kurogane says as he swings a leg over it, ”shall we?”

Ryoma nods, takes the passenger seat behind him, and the little scooter stirs to life.

Unlike everyone else, Ryoma won’t be joining the two-month training camp. There is simply too much left to do before Tokyo Dome becomes reality.

For Ryoma, it means making the same sacrifice he always seems to make. Once again, the promoter wins another round, and the boxer quietly agrees to wait his turn.

After weaving through Tokyo traffic for nearly half an hour, the scooter finally turns off the main road and rolls into the forecourt of a modern high-rise office building bearing the logo of NovaLink Media.

For the moment, NovaLink is simply another Japanese digital cable television company. Its business revolves around films, television dramas, documentaries, and entertainment programming, with little interest in live sports and even less ambition to challenge the established broadcasters dominating that market.

Yet Ryoma knows the entertainment industry is standing on the edge of a transformation almost nobody can see.

In the previous life, he watched streaming platforms gradually reshape the way the world consumed entertainment, forcing century-old broadcasters to rethink everything from distribution to production.

Live sports eventually followed the same path, becoming the final prize in an increasingly competitive battle for subscribers. And Ryoma has no intention of waiting for foreign companies to rewrite the rules.

If the future is going to belong to digital platforms, he’d much rather help a Japanese company arrive there first, and in the process, secure a long-term partner capable of growing alongside Ronin Fight Management.

Sure, Ronin is partnered with NSN now. But there isn’t a single clause preventing him from sharing a few leaks from the future with someone else.

As Kurogane switches off the motor, he glances up at the building before looking back at Ryoma.

”You really think they’ll listen to our proposal?”

”If they don’t,” Ryoma says, ”someone else will.”