VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Kurogane can no longer tell which part worries him more. Moments ago, he had still been arguing over Ronin’s future, convinced Ryoma had just made one of the cheapest media deals imaginable. But now, that concern has quietly slipped into the background. What truly unsettles him now is Ryoma himself.

Ever since the purse bid in London, people have been joking about Ryoma somehow possessing ”leaks from the future.” Kurogane has always treated it as nothing more than a clever persona, another outrageous performance designed to manipulate public perception and pressure his opponents.

But standing here now, listening to Ryoma calmly describe a global pandemic as though it were already destined to happen, he is no longer sure where the performance ends.

”Ryoma...” Kurogane says, his voice no longer carrying the irritation from moments ago. ”Listen to yourself. I always thought all that nonsense about knowing the future was just part of your act. A marketing stunt. Something outrageous to keep people talking. Hell, it worked. Half the world has been arguing over whether you really know something the rest of us don’t.”

He lets out a quiet breath before adding, ”But now I’m not laughing anymore.”

Ryoma doesn’t respond. He simply walks toward the ring, plants one foot on the apron, and climbs up without looking back.

Kurogane watches him in disbelief. ”I’m starting to think you’ve actually convinced yourself. Seeing the illusion and all those fabricated stories as reality.”

”It isn’t an illusion,” Ryoma replies as he slips through the ropes.

”If it isn’t, then what is?” Kurogane immediately fires back. ”Do you understand why I’m saying this? Because right now I’m genuinely worried there’s something wrong with your head. To be honest... I’m beginning to wonder if this didn’t start after your last fight. Hell... maybe even since Jade McConnel.”

Ryoma frowns ”What now?”

”The blackout,” Kurogane says.

Ryoma falls silent. He understands exactly why Kurogane has reached that conclusion. From the outside, everything he has done over the past few months does look like the behavior of someone slowly losing touch with reality.

But Ryoma knows his mind is perfectly clear. He isn’t imagining any of this. He simply cannot tell anyone that the source of all those impossible predictions is a life no one else has lived.

He cannot tell Kurogane the truth, telling how he regressed back from 2026 for a second life. Not because he doesn’t trust him. But because nobody would.

After several long seconds, Ryoma lowers his head and says quietly, ”Just... leave me alone for a while.”

”No. I can’t.” Kurogane reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone, and unlocks the screen. ”This isn’t about the company anymore. I’m calling Coach Nakahara.”

Ryoma immediately turns around. ”What are you doing?”

”Exactly what I should’ve done the moment you started talking about a global pandemic like it was tomorrow’s weather forecast.” Kurogane keeps scrolling until Nakahara’s name appears on the screen. ”I don’t know what’s happening to you anymore, but this has gone far enough.”

Ryoma’s eyes lock onto the phone. He reaches out without thinking and snatches it cleanly from Kurogane’s hand.

Kurogane freezes. ”Give me my phone back.”

”No.”

”Ryoma...” Kurogane exhales slowly, forcing himself to stay calm. ”I’m trying to help you. Coach Nakahara needs to know this. And I’m sorry if this pisses you off, but maybe... maybe it’s time you talk to a psychiatrist.”

At that, Ryoma’s thoughts begin racing, trying to convince Kurogane that he’s fine, and not just believing his own lies. Still he can’t mention another timeline. He can’t mention regression.

For the first time in a long while, Ryoma feels cornered. His mind tears through one explanation after another, discarding each almost as quickly as it appears.

Until, somewhere beneath the chaos, another possibility quietly begins taking shape. Not the truth, but a narrative built from years of observation, one grounded just enough in reality that someone like Kurogane might at least consider it plausible.

”Ryoma, listen to me,” Kurogane says

”No, you listen to me,” Ryoma replies. ”I know what I’m about to tell you is going to sound insane. But hear me out first. For years, I’ve had a habit of collecting things that don’t seem connected. News articles. Government policies. Technology. Economics. History. Most people read them separately. I don’t.”

Kurogane folds his arms, clearly unconvinced. ”So this is another one of your theories?”

Ryoma ignores the interruption. ”Have you ever heard of Siti Fadilah Supari?”

Kurogane shakes his head. ”Nope!”

”The former Indonesian Health Minister?” Ryoma says. ”In 2004, during the bird flu crisis, she openly challenged the World Health Organization over how they handled virus samples. Everyone called her irresponsible.”

He raises one finger. ”In 2009, another global outbreak. The same woman challenged the international response again.”

A second finger follows. ”That’s when I became interested. Once is coincidence. Twice becomes a pattern.”

Kurogane lets out a quiet sigh. ”And then?”

”In 2014, she disappeared from the stage,” Ryoma says. ”She left office. And afterward, she ended up in prison.”

Kurogane immediately shakes his head. ”Ryoma, that’s one person. One country. How does any of that lead to a global pandemic?”

”Because that wasn’t the only pattern I found.” Ryoma keeps his eyes on him. ”Over the years, I noticed something else. Every major leap in mobile communication has eventually been followed by the emergence of another major viral outbreak. I’m not saying one causes the other. But the pattern itself exists.”

He brings his face closer. ”1G. Then another virus. 2G. Another virus. 3G. Another virus. Then came 4G. After that, we saw MERS, Ebola, and Zika. They weren’t global pandemics on the scale of SARS, but the pattern remained the same. Major outbreaks kept emerging.”

Meanwhile, inside the ring, Phantom Cabello watches the exchange with unmistakable amusement. Leaning comfortably against the top rope, he rests his chin atop one boxing glove while the other arm drapes lazily over the rope.

He looks less like a sparring partner and more like a spectator enjoying a particularly entertaining show. A crooked grin never leaves his face, as though he’s genuinely curious to see whether Ryoma’s hastily fabricated story can actually convince Kurogane.

”And now we’re standing in the middle of 2018,” Ryoma continues, gesturing toward the windows. ”Every major telecommunications company is pouring billions into the next generation. Whether consumers realize it or not, the world has already begun moving toward 5G.”

He then raises Kurogane’s phone between them before continuing. ”If that pattern repeats itself, and the only person I’ve seen repeatedly challenge the global response is no longer around... what happens next?”

Kurogane massages his forehead, looking at Ryoma as though he can no longer decide whether to be angry or worried.

”So you’re seriously telling me you’ve concluded another pandemic is coming because 5G is around the corner?”

”No,” Ryoma replies without raising his voice. ”I’m saying two completely different patterns happen to converge around the same period, and if my observation is correct, sometime around the middle of next year, another virus will appear.”

”So that’s it.” Kurogane slowly shakes his head. ”You’re basing Ronin’s future on what you admit yourself are nothing more than historical patterns and statistical coincidences. An Indonesian health minister, the evolution of mobile networks... and somehow you’ve convinced yourself they point toward the next pandemic?”

Ryoma doesn’t even try to argue with the summary.

”I hope I’m wrong,” he says.

”You don’t sound like someone who hopes he’s wrong.”

”I do.” Ryoma meets his gaze without hesitation. ”Because if I’m wrong, all I’ve sacrificed is a few million dollars in future licensing revenue. But if I’m right, and we prepare for nothing, Ronin may not survive long enough for either of us to regret that decision.”

For a few moments after that, neither of them says another word. They simply stand there, looking at each other as the silence stretches between them.

Kurogane still doesn’t believe the explanation Ryoma has just given him. To him, it remains nothing more than an elaborate conspiracy theory stitched together from disconnected historical events, one that somehow manages to sound convincing only because Ryoma himself believes every word of it.

But he also realizes something else. The risk Ryoma is taking is surprisingly small compared to what he claims they’re trying to avoid. Whether he agrees with the reasoning or not, Kurogane no longer sees any value in arguing over it.

His face remains tightly creased with annoyance. Then he suddenly reaches for the phone still resting in Ryoma’s hand.

Ryoma, however, anticipates the movement immediately and simply pulls the phone farther away before Kurogane can grab it.

”Ryoma...” Kurogane says through gritted teeth. ”Give me my phone.”

”Promise me first,” Ryoma replies calmly. ”You’re not going to tell anyone about this. And after today, you’ll support the NovaLink arrangement completely. No more arguments.”

Kurogane lets out an irritated sigh, glaring at Ryoma for several long seconds before finally giving in.

”Fine. I won’t bring this up again. Now give me my phone.”

Only then does Ryoma give the phone back to him. Kurogane snatches it away, stuffs it into his pocket, and turns toward the staircase leading to the second floor.

He almost reaches the first step before stopping just long enough to speak over his shoulder.

”But I still think you should see a psychiatrist.”

Without waiting for a response, he continues upstairs, leaving Ryoma alone in the quiet gym.