VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

A few moments later, the bailiff announces that the recess is over. As Ramirez steps back into the courtroom, the sound of camera shutters immediately fills the room once again. He barely acknowledges the reporters before his eyes drift toward the public gallery, where an unexpected sight catches his attention.

Cabello and Rivera are already there. Rivera watches him with a faint look of concern, as though even he finds it difficult to believe that everything has come to this. Cabello, meanwhile, simply meets Ramirez’s gaze with his chin held ever so slightly higher than usual, his expression calm and full of confidence.

There is no smile on Cabello’s face, no trace of mockery. Yet somehow, that very lack of expression only convinces Ramirez that Cabello is taking quiet satisfaction in seeing him.

Ramirez scowls. ”Happy now? Feeling free without me?” He tears his eyes away and returns to the defense table just as the judge resumes the proceedings.

The courtroom gradually settles back into silence. Court officers return to their positions, the reporters lower their cameras, and everyone waits for the judge to continue from where the hearing had been interrupted.

The judge briefly reviews the case file before him. But before he moves on to the next stage of the proceedings, Ramirez’s attorney slowly rises to his feet.

”Your Honor, before these proceedings continue, the defense respectfully requests permission to address one procedural matter.”

The judge gives a slight nod. ”Proceed.”

The attorney inclines his head respectfully before continuing. ”During the recess, I had an opportunity to confer extensively with my client. Following that discussion, the defendant has instructed the defense to seek a private settlement with the victim through jidan. He wishes to offer a formal apology, provide financial compensation, and make every reasonable effort to resolve the remaining dispute between the parties.”

A quiet stir spreads through the courtroom. Reporters exchange quick glances, some already reaching for their notebooks as they anticipate a dramatic turn in the trial.

The judge taps his gavel once.

”Order.”

The murmurs die down almost immediately, allowing the defense attorney to continue.

The judge then shifts his attention toward the prosecutor.

”The prosecution?”

The prosecutor rises without hesitation. ”The State has no objection, Your Honor.”

The judge nods once before looking toward the witness stand. ”Takeda-san. Are you willing to discuss the defendant’s proposal?”

Every camera in the courtroom immediately turns toward Ryoma. He remains silent for a moment, neither surprised nor emotional, as though he had already anticipated this possibility long before entering the courtroom.

Finally, he gives a small nod. ”I’ll hear what he has to say.”

”Very well.” The judge lightly taps the gavel. ”The Court will stand in recess once again. Counsel for both parties may use the consultation room provided by the Court.”

The courtroom begins to stir. The moment both parties leave their seats, dozens of reporters immediately rise and begin following the procession out into the corridor, hoping to catch even the briefest glimpse of what might happen next.

”Please stand back,” one of the court officers instructs as he stretches out an arm to keep the press at a distance. ”No one beyond this point.”

Camera shutters continue clicking from behind the security line while several journalists shout unanswered questions toward both parties.

***

Escorted by court officers, Ryoma and Ramirez are led farther down the corridor toward one of the courthouse’s private consultation rooms, leaving the growing crowd of reporters waiting outside.

Ryoma steps inside alone, while Superintendent Shibata, Detective Tachibana, and the prosecutor follow behind as observers. A moment later, Ramirez enters alongside his attorney. The door then quietly slides shut behind them.

Ramirez’s attorney clears his throat before speaking. ”Takeda-san, first of all, my client wishes to express his deepest remorse for everything that has happened. He has instructed me to discuss a financial settlement of thirty million U.S. dollars, together with…”

”I understand English,” Ryoma says.

The attorney stops mid-sentence. ”...Excuse me?”

Ryoma calmly meets Ramirez’s eyes. ”Let him speak. If he truly regrets what he did, I want to hear it from him. Not from a lawyer whose job is to choose the right words.”

The attorney is caught off guard for the briefest moment. A faint twitch crosses the corner of his mouth before he quickly buries the irritation behind a courteous smile.

”...Very well.”

He quietly steps aside and gives Ramirez a small nod, silently signaling that the conversation now belongs to him.

Ramirez remains frozen for several seconds. The resentment in his eyes never fades. Looking at Ryoma still fills him with the same contempt he has carried for years. Every instinct tells him to walk out of the room rather than utter a single word of apology.

In the end, however, he forces himself to bend forward in a brief, restrained bow.

”...Ryoma,” he mutters. ”I’m sorry for everything I’ve done.”

Ryoma studies him for a moment before shifting his gaze toward the attorney. ”I’m sure you’ve already explained Japanese legal culture to him. How an apology and compensation might persuade the court to show leniency. But apparently you forgot to teach him the difference between greeting someone... and apologizing to them.”

Ramirez’s jaw tightens. Swallowing his pride enough to bow before Ryoma had already felt unbearable. Now he realizes it was all for nothing. Rather than moving this negotiation forward, he has only managed to humiliate himself halfway.

Ryoma looks down at him. ”Ramirez… what you just gave me was an ojigi, the kind of bow you’d use to greet someone. Not a saikeirei offered in sincere apology, let alone a dogeza.”

A brief silence settles over the room before he speaks again. ”If that’s the extent of your apology... then perhaps we’re done here.”

He turns and begins walking toward the door. But before he can take a second step, Ramirez suddenly drops to both knees. Without another word, he places both palms flat against the floor and slowly lowers his body until his forehead touches it in a flawless dogeza.

Ryoma stops in his tracks, momentarily caught off guard. Even he hadn’t expected Ramirez to abandon every last shred of pride and go this far.

But hidden beneath that posture of absolute submission, Ramirez’s expression tells a very different story. His eyes are burning with anger, his jaw clenched so hard that the muscles along his face tremble.

Remaining in that position, Ramirez finally forces the words out through gritted teeth. ”Ryoma... I’m truly sorry for everything I’ve done to you. I was wrong. Please forgive me.”

Ryoma simply stands there, looking down at Ramirez for several long seconds. A faint sense of satisfaction quietly settles inside him. The man who once treated everyone around him as disposable is now lying face-down before him, forced to beg for forgiveness.

For that brief moment, Ryoma cannot deny that it feels like victory. Seemingly satisfied, his gaze slowly shifts toward Ramirez’s attorney, intending to accept their plea.

But before he can say anything…

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Ryoma’s brow twitches. His expression gradually hardens.

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Ryoma’s attention slowly returns to Ramirez, whose forehead still rests against the floor, waiting for an answer that never comes.

Beneath that same posture, Ramirez’s hatred only grows stronger.

”Damn you, you little bastard...”

”You’re really going to keep me like this... just to enjoy humiliating me.”

Yet Ryoma is no longer enjoying anything, because the system is right. Accepting this apology would end any future civil lawsuit, and also spare him years of litigation that could consume his time and distract him from boxing. But the price was equally obvious.

The moment the news reached the public, people would inevitably question his motives. Some would say he had sold his principles. Others would believe he had betrayed everyone who had stood beside him throughout this fight.

Yet, at the same time, rejecting the settlement wasn’t much better. Ramirez had already performed a dogeza before multiple witnesses. Whether sincere or not, the court would almost certainly view it as genuine remorse, making a lighter sentence far more likely.

Somehow, either it’s part of their plan or not, Ramirez’s apology has done the impossible. It has shifted the dilemma onto Ryoma himself.

Ryoma slowly exhales. When he finally speaks, his voice is noticeably strained, as though he is forcing himself to keep his emotions under control.

”I know this apology isn’t sincere. Deep down, you’re still thinking about getting your revenge the moment all of this is over. And the second I accept it, every bit of scrutiny shifts onto me.”

Ramirez draws a slow breath, his forehead still pressed against the floor. ”I’m sincerely sorry. I destroyed your career... and I disgraced the very spirit of boxing.”

”If that’s truly how you feel,” Ryoma says, ”then apologizing to me alone isn’t enough. There are still reporters waiting outside that door. If your remorse is genuine, do this in front of them. Apologize to me in front of the entire boxing world you betrayed.”

He pauses, his voice remaining calm but unwavering. ”Only then will I never have to explain to anyone why I accepted your apology.”