VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Reika’s words leave Ryoma staring at her, suddenly unsure whether the images that had flashed through his mind earlier were really nothing more than uncontrolled fantasies or fragments of an actual memory.

A mild pain pulses through his head again, and when he briefly closes his eyes, another image appears: his lips pressed against Reika’s, the sensation so vivid that it feels almost real.

Ryoma’s eyes snap open, his breath catching as one foot instinctively shifts backward. Tachibana, however, does not notice his reaction, his attention already fixed on Reika.

”You said you were together the entire night,” he says, raising an eyebrow as he looks at her.

”We were,” Reika answers, her eyes sharpened.

Tachibana opens a fresh page in his notebook. He does not seriously suspect Ryoma of being the killer, but protocol is protocol. Reika has offered an alibi, and that statement still needs to be recorded.

”When?”

”After the celebration.”

”And when did you part ways?”

Reika pauses. ”Why does that matter?”

”Because you said you were together the entire night.”

”And that’s your answer.”

”Where did you go?”

”Around Tokyo.”

”Which places?”

Reika gives him a pointed look. ”Do I really have to explain everything we did? How much detail are you expecting?”

Tachibana chuckles lightly, closes his notebook for a moment, and looks up at her.

”Let me make your position clear first. If this ever goes to court, and let’s say Ryoma ends up sitting in the defendant’s chair, the prosecutor will ask you all these questions. So I should warn you now: if this is a story you’re making up to protect a friend, you could end up making his position much worse than it needs to be.”

”I’m not lying,” Reika replies.

”She’s not lying,” Aki suddenly adds.

Tachibana turns to Aki with an almost incredulous look. ”How would you know? Were you there when these two were doing whatever it is this lady doesn’t want to describe in detail?”

”Ah, no... I…”

Tachibana sighs and turns back toward Ryoma. ”I think that’s enough for now.” He closes his notebook walks away. ”Thank you for your time.”

”Detective,” Reika calls after him. ”I’m really not lying.”

”Yes, and I’ve written down your statement,” Tachibana says without looking back.

”Just like he said,” Ryoma says. ”Your lie wasn’t necessary. All it does is make things more complicated.”

Reika turns around immediately, disbelief and disappointment flashing across her face. ”What do you mean, lie? We did spend the night driving around Tokyo together.”

Ryoma’s gaze sharpens. ”And what exactly do you mean by ’the entire night’?”

Reika is caught off guard, her expression faltering under his stare. Ryoma notices the hesitation immediately. There is guilt in it, enough to tell him that she has not been completely honest.

Whether she lied about everything or simply stretched one detail into something larger, he has no way of knowing. Even with the fragments of memory beginning to return, one thing is clear to him: Reika was not telling the whole truth.

”And it seems you’ve already told Aki a few things,” Ryoma continues. ”So why don’t you tell me what exactly you told her?”

Instead of answering, Reika suddenly turns away and walks off without answering. Aki looks startled, for a brief moment, she catches the glimmer of tears in Reika’s eyes.

”Reika. Wait.”

Aki takes a step after her, then stops and turns back toward Ryoma, disappointment written across her face.

”What’s wrong with you, Ryoma? Don’t you understand that she was only trying to help you?”

”Good intentions don’t always lead to good results, Aki,” Ryoma replies coldly. ”If that had been another detective instead of Tachibana-san, I could have ended up a suspect simply because of that lie.”

Aki shakes her head once, clearly unwilling to argue with him any further, before hurrying down the stairs after Reika.

Ryoma follows at a much calmer pace. By the time he reaches the bottom, however, Reika’s Lexus is already gone.

>

”Yeah. What can you do?”

After standing there for a moment, Ryoma continues walking toward Shimizu Shoba Shop, the place where yesterday afternoon’s after-fight party and celebration had been held.

When he steps inside, a polite voice immediately calls out from somewhere behind the counter.

”Sorry, we’re not open yet.”

Ryoma ignores the warning and walks farther inside before taking a seat on one of the stools near the counter.

A moment later, Shimizu emerges from the back.

”Sorry, sir, but we…”

He stops when he sees Ryoma sitting there, quietly staring ahead without even turning toward him.

”Well, well. If it isn’t the World Champion.” Shimizu grins as he approaches the counter. ”Couldn’t get enough of yesterday’s celebration, huh?”

He looks around at the mess still waiting to be cleaned up. ”Unfortunately, I’m still dealing with the disaster everyone left behind.”

Shimizu brings the tea over just as the door opens again.

”Sorry, we’re not open yet...”

The words die in his mouth.

A tall blond man stands in the doorway, his appearance unmistakably foreign. Elliot Graves, the British fighter who currently holds the WBC World Championship.

Shimizu stares at him for a moment before slowly glancing toward Ryoma.

”Seriously...?”

He looks back at Elliot, then at Ryoma again.

”First the WBO World Champion, and now the WBC Champion? What the hell is going on with my shop today?”

Ryoma is far more stunned than Shimizu. He simply stares at Elliot, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and confusion, unable to find a word to say.

”Finally found you,” Elliot greets with a wide grin.

”Elliot? How did you get here?”

”I just came from your gym. They said you might be at your mother’s barbershop. Your mother told me you were at your apartment. And at the apartment...”

Before Elliot can finish, Aramaki steps inside behind him.

”Hey, Ryoma. Elliot came looking for you.”

”Thanks to this guy,” Elliot continues. ”He told me I might find you here.”

Shimizu stares at Elliot with a helpless grin, clearly understanding none of what the Englishman has said. His expression looks almost dreamlike, as though he is still trying to process how two world champions have somehow ended up in his little shop before it has even opened.

Then, without warning, he turns toward the back of the shop and shouts.

”Keiko! Get ready! We’ve got guests!”

He turns back toward Ryoma, the grin spreading across his face.

”Forget cleaning up. The party’s not over yet.”

***

Meanwhile, things at Nakahara’s Gym are no less awkward.

There are no professional fighters around today, all of them still taking a break after yesterday’s major event at the Tokyo Dome. Only a handful of amateurs have shown up, going through their warm-up under Hiroshi’s supervision.

The awkward part is the presence of Sergei Volkov, sitting on one of the benches and quietly watching them all, with Nakahara seated beside him, still cannot speak a word of English.

The old man’s smile never seems to disappear, less because he is excited to have Volkov there than because he has absolutely no idea what he is supposed to say.

Sergei glances toward the young amateurs going through their drills, then lets out a quiet sigh.

”I’m beginning to feel like my presence is distracting them from their training.”

Nakahara, understanding none of it, nods enthusiastically.

”Yes, yes.”

”Perhaps I should come back later.”

”Yes, yes.”

Sergei sighs again, then finally rises from the bench and gives a polite bow.

”Well, then... I’ll take my leave.”

Nakahara blinks. ”Hm? Excusu mi... preasu... wuai aruyu reeving?”

Sergei gives him a reassuring smile. ”It’s all right. I’ll come back later.”

Nakahara immediately gets to his feet and hurries after him. He stops in front of Sergei, bows deeply, and starts speaking rapidly in Japanese.

”I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience. Please wait just a little longer. My assistant will be here soon, and then we can talk properly.”

Sergei watches him with a slightly puzzled expression. Assuming the bow is simply a greeting, he returns it politely.

”Konnichiwa.”

Nakahara straightens, looks at him for a moment, then bows again.

”No, no. I’m sorry. Please wait. My assistant will be here shortly.”

Sergei bows in return.

”Sayonara.”

Nakahara bows again.

”I’m sorry.”

Sergei bows once more.

”Sayonara.”

The absurd exchange continues until Sera finally appears in the doorway and stops dead at the sight of the two men repeatedly bowing to each other.

”Ah, Kaichoo... what are you doing?”

***

With Sera finally there to take over, Nakahara’s heart can at last return to its normal rhythm.

Sera leads Sergei to the gym’s management office on the first floor, with Nakahara following behind. He settles into a chair and spends most of the conversation fanning himself with his cap while listening to the two of them speak in English.

”Just imagine it,” Sergei says, already deep into his pitch. ”Ryoma Takeda and Elliot Graves, both world champions, both appearing in the same event. One represents the WBO, the other the WBC. Two world champions from opposite sides of the world, brought together on the biggest stage we can build. That alone would be historic.”

Sera sits across from him, listening intently, the image forming almost immediately in his mind: Ryoma and Elliot standing across from each other inside a ring.

”With Ryoma’s popularity,” Sergei continues, ”we could probably fill two-thirds of Wembley even without pushing for a complete sellout. The British audience would come for Elliot. The Japanese audience would come for Ryoma. And once you put those two names on the same poster, the rest of the world will start paying attention.”

Sera’s expression shifts as the actual proposal finally sinks in, picturing the two champions facing each other beneath the lights of a stadium as enormous as Wembley, with tens of thousands of people filling the stadium around them.

Nakahara, meanwhile, continues grinning and fanning himself with his cap, still not understanding a single word of the conversation.