VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Outside the WBO’s Tokyo office, the pavement has become crowded with reporters and camera crews waiting for Cabello to emerge. In fact, the WBO has never released anything about the disciplinary hearing, while Ronin has continued avoiding the press entirely, refusing to comment on the dispute over Cabello’s unpaid purse.

Most of the reporters have actually come because of Cabello himself. His own social-media posts, accusing Ryoma and Ronin of withholding his ten-million-dollar fight purse unjustly, had made it clear that he intended to turn the dispute into a public confrontation.

Several reporters have already prepared questions about the money, expecting Cabello to emerge with an explosive statement against Ronin.

When the doors finally open and Cabello appears with Rivera and his local attorney, the reporters move immediately.

”Mr. Cabello! What happened inside?”

”Did the WBO make a decision about your purse?”

”Are you getting your ten million dollars?”

”Has Ronin agreed to pay you?”

”Did the WBO side with you or with Ronin?”

Cabello keeps walking, his expression rigid as the cameras follow him toward the waiting car arranged by the liaison.

”Mr. Cabello, did Ronin fulfill its contractual obligations?”

”Are you planning to take legal action against them?”

”Mr. Cabello, can you tell us what the WBO decided?”

The questions continue around him, but Cabello gives them nothing useful. Instead, his frustration begins spilling out as he walks.

”They’ve already decided everything before I even walked into that room,” Cabello says bitterly. ”They don’t care what actually happened. They don’t care what they did to me. They just want to protect Ryoma and Ronin because apparently that’s how things work in this country.”

Several reporters exchange confused looks. But Cabello continues with his statement without slowing down his pace.

”I fought that man in front of the entire world, I lost my title, and now they want to take my money too. And everyone just stands there pretending it’s normal. The WBO, Ronin, the officials, all of them. They don’t even care about fairness.”

A reporter tries to keep pace beside him. ”Mr. Cabello, are you saying the WBO refused to release your purse?”

”I’m saying nobody here gives a damn what happens to me,” Cabello snaps. ”Not Ronin, not the WBO, not the people running this event, and apparently not the reporters standing here either.”

The accusation catches several of them off guard. Even a few foreign reporters from Korea and Philippine, who had come intending to give Cabello a sympathetic hearing, now feel as though the remark has been aimed at them as well. Their expressions tighten, their cameras still raised, but the willingness to defend him visibly fades.

”You all came here because you wanted a story, didn’t you?” Cabello continues, his voice rising. ”You wanted to watch me get dragged through the mud because that’s what people in this country like. You don’t want the truth. You want Ryoma to be the hero and me to be the villain.”

Rivera says something quietly beside him, trying to make him quiet. But Cabello barely acknowledges it as he reaches the waiting vehicle.

”This whole damn country is the same,” he says, his anger spilling over into another accusation before he reaches the door. ”Everyone smiles, everyone bows, everyone pretends everything is honorable while they screw you the moment you turn your back.”

The car finally pulls away from the curb, leaving the reporters standing outside the WBO office with more questions than answers.

A few reporters exchange uncertain looks, while others shake their heads with quiet, almost disbelieving chuckles.

”What was that?”

”Well, it seems like he didn’t get what he wanted.”

”Does that mean Ronin is still refusing to pay his purse?”

***

Meanwhile, Ryoma has only just left the hearing room, walking alongside Kanemura as Kurogane and Yoshida follow a few steps behind them.

”I want to make one thing clear,” Kanemura says. ”Cabello’s testimony today only gives us grounds to investigate Vaughan and Bowman under a separate disciplinary proceeding. Even if everything he alleged is eventually proven, the WBO can only impose sanctions within matters that fall under its own authority. Don’t expect this to put either of them in prison the way it did to Ramirez.”

Ryoma gives a relaxed nod. ”I understand that. It doesn’t feel like enough, but if you can make sure they can’t operate within the WBO circuit anymore, that’s enough for me.”

Kanemura studies him briefly before looking ahead again.

”I’m the legitimate world champion now,” Ryoma continues. ”And I’m also a promoter. I’ll do my best to make the competition within the WBO can stand against the other organizations. But it has to be built on transparency, fairness, and a competition free from the kind of dirty games that happen behind the scenes.”

When they reach the lobby, Kanemura’s pace slows. He had only intended to escort Ryoma back to his waiting car, but the sight of cameras and reporters gathered beyond the doors catches him completely off guard.

”What the hell is this?” he mutters before turning toward Yoshida. ”How did this reach the media? I told you to keep this matter confidential until the decision was made.”

Yoshida immediately raises both hands and shakes his head. ”I didn’t leak anything about Cabello’s medical findings.”

”I don’t think they’re here because of the drug issue,” Kurogane says. ”Cabello already made the dispute over his withheld purse public through his social media. The reporters have been after us for days. How they ended up here today, only Cabello’s side knows.”

Kanemura turns his attention back toward the entrance. Several reporters have already noticed the movement inside the lobby and begun turning their cameras toward the glass doors.

Ryoma, however, remains completely unbothered. He continues walking toward the entrance as though the growing attention outside is of little consequence.

”Why don’t you announce the decision, Kanemura-san?” he says calmly. ”Then I’ll have a valid argument when I respond to Cabello’s complaint.”

Looking resigned, Kanemura follows Ryoma, continuing to escort him toward the entrance while already beginning to formulate the statement he will need once they step outside.

The moment they step through the doors, the reporters surge toward them, cameras lifting above the crowd as microphones and recorders are thrust toward Ryoma from every direction.

”Ryoma! Is it true that you are refusing to pay Cabello’s ten-million-dollar purse?”

”Why are you withholding his money?”

”Mr. Takeda, Cabello has accused Ronin of treating him unfairly after the fight. How do you respond to that?”

”Are you using your position as the promoter to punish a fighter who lost to you?”

”Do you believe it is acceptable to withhold a fighter’s purse after he has already completed the bout?”

With an easy confidence, Ryoma reaches over and places a hand on Kanemura’s shoulder, gently turning him toward the reporters as though handing him over to the crowd.

”I’ll answer all of your questions,” Ryoma says. ”But before that, why don’t you hear from Kanemura-san first? I have a feeling what he’s about to tell you will give you enough material for the next few days.”

The reporters settle almost immediately, shifting their cameras, microphones, and recorders toward Kanemura with renewed anticipation. Their earlier questions about the purse are forgotten for the moment as they wait for whatever announcement Ryoma has just promised them.

Kanemura gives Ryoma a faintly pleading look, then straightens his jacket and adjusts his tie before clearing his throat.

”The post-fight medical test conducted on Mr. Miguel Cabello detected a combination of opioid and amphetamine compounds in his system,” Kanemura says. ”As a result, Mr. Cabello has been suspended from WBO-sanctioned competition for twenty-four months and is subject to the applicable financial penalty and testing requirements before returning to competition.”

A wave of surprise passes through the reporters, several of them exchanging stunned looks as cameras continue recording.

Ryoma turns toward Kurogane and holds out one hand.

”The file.”

Kurogane hands him the contract folder. Ryoma opens it, removes the bout agreement, and turns the marked page toward the waiting cameras.

”For the same reason,” Ryoma says calmly, ”we withheld Cabello’s purse. He didn’t only violate the rules established by the WBO. He also breached an important clause in the contract he signed with Ronin.”

A reporter steps forward. ”What clause are you referring to?”

”A clause designed to ensure fairness and honesty.” Ryoma’s expression remains composed. ”After everything I’ve been through since the incident in Manila, and after what Ramirez did that nearly cost me my life, I wasn’t going to handle a title fight on trust alone. As a promoter, I included that clause as a precaution, to protect the sport from exactly this kind of misconduct.”

He lowers the document slightly. ”Cabello breached it. So he’s not entitled to the purse. It’s that simple.”

The reporters erupt into a burst of overlapping reactions, cameras clicking rapidly as several journalists exchange startled looks.

One reporter raises his microphone. ”Does that mean you knew from the beginning that Cabello was going to cheat?”

Ryoma shakes his head. ”I only knew they were afraid of me. Ramirez being in prison is proof enough. And Cabello has only made that proof stronger by using prohibited substances just to compete with me on equal terms in the ring.”