VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Since that day, Ryoma barely speaks. He goes through every session as usual, but somehow, his silence changes the entire camp. Sessions that used to be filled with coaches arguing back and forth with fighters now become strangely efficient.

Everyone is more focused, more disciplined, and more willing to follow corrections. The problem is that Ronin’s gym no longer feels like Ronin’s gym.

Even sparring becomes strangely serious. When Okabe and Aramaki step into the ring, they exchange punches without a single joke or unnecessary remark.

The only voices cutting through the silence are Sera and Nakahara from the outside, occasionally calling out instructions.

”Hands up, Okabe!”

”Don’t follow his rhythm. Make him adjust!”

”Aramaki, stop chasing. Cut the angle!”

Nobody says it out loud, but everyone notices. The camp has become quieter, and somehow, that is more intimidating than anyone expected.

When the bell finally ends the round, both fighters immediately return to their corners without exchanging the usual jokes that almost always followed a hard spar.

Afterward, Sera glances toward the next pair.

”Ryohei. You’re up.”

Ryohei quietly slips his mouthpiece in and climbs through the ropes. He settles near the center of the ring, but before he can fully compose himself...

Nakahara turns to Ryoma. ”Kid. Get prepared.”

In that instant, Ryohei’s shoulders tense almost instinctively. For a split second, his heartbeat quickens.

But Ryoma simply shakes his head once.

”I’m good.”

Nakahara studies him for a moment before nodding.

”Fine. Satoru.”

Only then does the tension slowly leave Ryohei’s shoulders.

And usually, Ryoma never stays quiet whenever Satoru is sparring, constantly interrupting rounds to point out mistakes, or calling out adjustments from ringside.

But today, none of that happens. He barely even watches the ring, spending more time looking down at his phone, quietly following the latest reports surrounding Hugo Ramirez’s ongoing trial.

At one point, Ryoma suddenly clicks his tongue in irritation. And somehow, that alone sends a chill down Ryohei’s spine.

His attention breaks for the briefest instant, and suddenly…

Dsh!

Satoru’s straight left snaps cleanly into his face.

”Ryohei!” Sera barks from ringside. ”Eyes on your opponent! Stop worrying about everything outside the damn ring!”

The irony is that Ryoma’s irritation only comes from the article on his phone; Hugo Ramirez is once again claiming he had no knowledge whatsoever of the attack in Manila.

Ryoma quietly scrolls to the next page, his expression remaining as flat as ever.

”What a load of bullshit.”

And again...

Dsh!

Another left slips cleanly through Ryohei’s guard and snaps against his cheek.

”Ryohei!” Sera’s voice booms across the gym. ”Focus on the guy in front of you!”

At ringside, Aramaki can only wince in amusement at the ridiculous chain of events before making his way over to Ryoma.

”...What now?”

Ryoma tilts his phone toward him. ”This bastard Ramirez... He’s still denying everything after all this.”

Aramaki gives a small shrug. ”Can’t help it. Those two perpetrators still haven’t been caught. Without them, it’s hard to tie everything directly to Ramirez.”

Ryoma looks up from the screen. ”And you’re fine with that? You almost died there too.”

A short laugh escapes Aramaki before he rubs the back of his neck. ”Yeah... thanks for reminding me. Guess I’ve just gotten better at pretending it doesn’t bother me.”

For now, Aramaki is the only one who still treats Ryoma exactly the same as before. And perhaps because of that, Ryoma never changes the way he treats Aramaki either.

Whatever strange tension has settled in this camp simply doesn’t seem to exist whenever the two of them talk.

***

Moments later, when Ryohei and Satoru’s sparring session comes to an end, Ryoma immediately slips his phone into his bag. He pushes himself off the bench, and starts wrapping the straps of his gloves tighter as he walks toward the ring.

”Come, Aramaki. Let’s spar.”

Aramaki blinks. ”...I already went with Okabe.”

”That won’t do anything for you.”

Normally, Okabe would have shouted from the other side of the gym, turning the entire room into another pointless argument. Today, he simply scratches the back of his head and keeps his mouth shut.

Ryohei, however, isn’t able to completely hide his contempt. Watching Ryoma refuse to spar with him before openly offering himself to Aramaki leaves a bitter taste he can’t quite swallow. As he climbs down from the ring, something slips from his mouth almost instinctively.

Ryoma pauses for a second and turns to Aramaki. ”Hey, do you remember me ever giving him permission to speak?”

Ryohei’s lips immediately close. His shoulders stiffen for the briefest moment before he lowers his head and quietly walks away.

Ryoma puts on his headgear, and climbs through the ropes without paying attention to anyone else’s reaction.

”Let’s go. I’ll get you used to Cuban boxing.”

The moment the bell starts the round, Ryoma becomes a different person altogether. He slips a jab, pivots outside, then casually points with his glove before Aramaki can even reset.

”Wrong angle.”

Aramaki immediately adjusts.

A moment later, Ryoma quietly steps outside another combination, and shares more insight.

”Don’t force the third punch once the angle changes.”

He lightly taps Aramaki’s ribs with a check hook before drifting away again.

”You’re only putting yourself in danger.”

The contrast is impossible to ignore, and somehow that difference in treatment hurts Ryohei far more than the harshest insult or humiliation Ryoma could have thrown at him. Almost three weeks have passed without Ryoma giving him even the slightest opportunity to settle what happened between them.

But Ryohei remains Ryohei. Rather than questioning himself, he keeps placing the blame on Ryoma instead, convincing himself that Ryoma is deliberately treating him unfairly as revenge.

Unable to take it any longer, Ryohei eventually walks out of the gym without saying a word to anyone. More painful still, not a single person goes after him; not Nakahara, not Sera, not Hiroshi, not even Okabe.

Then again, everyone knows his temperament well enough to assume he’s simply stepping outside to cool off before returning once his emotions settle.

***

By the time everyone gathers for late afternoon briefing, they finally realize something is wrong. Ryohei never shows up. His sports car is already gone. His luggage has disappeared.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Nakahara, Sera, Hiroshi, and Ryoma are gathered inside one of the lodge’s small meeting rooms.

The atmosphere is noticeably heavier than usual as the scheduled evening briefing quietly turns into an emergency meeting.

”What if... he decides he’s done?” Sera says. ”Not just with this camp, but with boxing altogether?”

Hiroshi slowly folds his arms. ”If it comes to that, what happens to our Tokyo Dome event?”

”We’ll have the public breathing down our necks,” Sera answers immediately. ”Ryohei versus Umemoto has become one of the biggest attractions on the card. The East versus West rivalry is already selling itself. Thousands of people couldn’t even get tickets, and now this is happening. The backlash won’t just come from the fans who missed out. Even the ones who already bought tickets will be furious.”

Hiroshi finally turns toward Nakahara. ”This can’t stay like this. Somebody has to go after him.”

Nakahara lets out a weary breath. ”If he’s really made up his mind not to fight... I’m not sure I’ll be able to change it.”

Ryoma, who has remained silent until now, finally speaks without even looking up. ”Then sue him for breaching the contract. I don’t see what’s so complicated.”

The answer leaves the other three staring at him. Legally, he isn’t wrong. But hearing it from someone who helped build Ronin around the idea of family rather than business, feels strangely cold.

”Do you even know why it’s come to this?” Sera says, forcing himself to stay calm. ”Or are you seriously going to pretend none of this has anything to do with you?”

Ryoma finally raises his eyes. ”Oh? So now this is my fault? One of our fighters behaves unprofessionally, and somehow the promoter is the one getting blamed. What kind of logic is that?”

Sera’s fist slams onto the table with a heavy thud. ”Whose fault is it that one of our own fighters ended up like this? You humiliated him in front of everyone, then spent the next three weeks treating him like he didn’t even exist. That wasn’t discipline anymore, that was…”

Ryoma slams the table harder, pushing himself to his feet. ”Then what exactly did you expect me to do?! I’ve sacrificed too much to build this gym. I put my own fortune on the line. I gambled my own career so every one of them could have a future here. And because the three of you couldn’t do your jobs as coaches, I had to become the villain and drag them out of their comfort zone myself.”

He points toward the floor between them. ”Instead of showing even the slightest gratitude, that bastard stood right there and accused me of exploiting him. He said everything I’ve sacrificed, every miserable choice I’ve made, was nothing but a facade to hide the fact that I’d been using all of them for my own benefit. And you wanted me to let that go?”

His eyes sweep across the three coaches before settling on Sera. ”The moment I let something like that slide, nobody in this gym respects me anymore. Then what? You three go back to producing another Shimamura? Another Aizawa? Is that really what all of you want?”