VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

In any serious conflict, good intelligence can be worth more than another hundred men, assuming those men are not particularly good at keeping secrets. Boxing is hardly a war, but the principle still applies: knowing what your opponent can do before you have to deal with it is generally considered useful.

By now, the footage of Elliot and Ryoma’s sparring has made its way to Celeb Mercer’s hotel room, where it is playing again on a flat-screen television. Celeb watches alongside head trainer Marcus Vane and three assistant coaches, including Travis, the man who secretly recorded the entire session.

”Anybody recognize you in there, Travis?” Marcus asks without taking his eyes off the screen.

”I don’t think so,” Travis replies. ”Once I got inside, everybody was watching the ring. Nobody really paid attention to me.”

Marcus gives a small nod and says nothing more. Neither does anyone else, including Celeb, whose attention remains fixed on the footage without giving much away.

For the opening seconds, their focus naturally stays on Elliot. They study his physical condition, his movement, his approach to Ryoma, and any small changes that might have appeared since his previous fights.

After all, Elliot is the man they are actually preparing for. At least, that remains true until somewhere around the second minute of the first round, when Marcus’s attention begins drifting toward the other fighter.

”He’s... damn good,” Marcus mutters.

The assistant coach beside him blinks and briefly looks at Marcus before returning his attention to the screen. His eyebrows draw together as he studies Elliot’s performance more carefully.

”But he looks like he’s having a little trouble.”

”Yeah,” says another assistant. ”We’re almost two minutes in, and he hasn’t landed a clean shot yet.”

”I’m talking about that kid,” Marcus says.

The room goes quiet for a moment. That clarification changes the way everyone watches the footage. None of them can really argue with Marcus, because now they spent the last several exchanges paying more attention to Ryoma than the man they came here to study.

Then the footage reaches the exchange that catches Marcus’s attention, beginning with Elliot setting a trap. He subtly steps in, leaving just enough of an opening to tempt Ryoma into throwing his right cross.

And indeed, Ryoma takes the bait; his right hand starts toward Elliot’s head, and for a fraction of a second, the counter seems perfectly set up.

But suddenly, a short left hook appears from beneath Elliot’s right guard. It is so small that the camera barely captures the movement.

Elliot’s timing breaks instantly, and his right hand continues forward at an increasingly terrible angle.

”What the hell was that?” one of the assistants mutters.

”Stop, and back it up,” Marcus says.

Travis rewinds the video, and now they watch the sequence again before stopping it at the exact moment Ryoma’s left hand begins to move.

”Slow it down.”

The footage plays again, this time frame by frame. And the answer becomes obvious.

Ryoma never fully retracts his left hand after the earlier flicking jabs. He leaves it hanging just beneath Elliot’s right guard until the moment he sends his right, keeping it almost invisible from the camera’s angle.

When Elliot commits his right cross, Ryoma’s left suddenly snaps upward from that blind spot and catches him on the jaw.

”Jesus,” one of the assistants mutters.

It is only a short hook, barely enough to look impressive on its own, but it completely ruins Elliot’s counter and creates a second opening. From that opening, four clean punches follow.

”Damn. That was nasty.”

”He didn’t just read the trap,” another assistant says. ”He left the hand there on purpose, hiding it well beneath Elliot’s guard.”

By the time the first round finally ends, Elliot has almost ceased to be the subject of their analysis. He is still the opponent they came to study. For the moment, however, he acts like a demonstration model for this people to see Ryoma’s boxing.

As the two champions walk back toward their respective corners for the break, Marcus slowly exhales and shakes his head, still looking at the screen in disbelief.

”Forget about that failed counter from Elliot,” he says. ”Did any of you actually realize what this kid is doing here?”

”Controlling a WBC champion who’s more experienced than him?” Celeb asks.

”No.” Marcus slowly turns toward him. ”It’s the fact that he’s deliberately copying your style to help Elliot prepare to beat you.”

Celeb’s eyes remain fixed on the screen for a moment. He says nothing, but his expression tightens slightly as Marcus’s words sink in.

He then snatches the remote from Travis, rewinding the footage back to the very beginning. He watches Ryoma again, this time paying closer attention to the way he circles Elliot, moves his head, and works those familiar lead-hand feints.

The longer he watches, the more familiar it becomes. Ryoma is not merely using the same boxing system; he is reproducing the small habits of Celeb’s own style.

The ridiculous part, Celeb had been watching the whole thing without realizing just how much of himself Ryoma was putting on display.

”Don’t tell me you’re only noticing it now,” Marcus says, his tone flat and openly critical.

Celeb only gives him a sideways look, unable to come up with a reply. The embarrassment is immediate. For a world-class boxer, recognizing a fighter’s habits is basic work. Failing to recognize your own habit is about as close to a cardinal sin as boxing gets.

***

They continue watching the sparring at normal speed, but their attention remains fixed on Ryoma, curious to see just how far he can reproduce Celeb’s style.

By the second round, the sparring becomes more intense as both fighters raise the pace without letting their egos take over.

”Sorry, but honestly,” Travis says, ”I don’t see anything that looks like Celeb in there.”

”Not in this round,” Marcus replies. ”But let me put it this way, Celeb. I’ve got an ideal version of your style in my head, and the easiest way to explain it is this.”

He turns toward Celeb. ”Your Philly style, but with a more aggressive mindset. Always looking for a way to do real damage, not just score points. Willing to take a risk if it means you can hurt your opponent more than he hurts you.”

Marcus turns his attention back to the screen. ”And this kid has already found that version before I could even build it into you.”

After this, they keep studying the three-round sparring session more carefully, replaying certain sequences and watching the footage over and over without any apparent loss of interest.

But the longer they watch, the more Elliot becomes irrelevant to their analysis, despite still being the man trading punches with Ryoma on the screen. Their attention remains fixed on Ryoma, watching him demonstrate a version of Celeb that has not even been fully realized yet.

At least, they can learn something: Ryoma is not merely preparing Elliot to fight Celeb. He is preparing him for the best version of Celeb that might eventually emerge, which is a rather unpleasant favor to do for someone else’s opponent.

Usually, fight footage is meant to make life easier, so you can walk into the fight with slightly fewer surprises waiting for you. For Celeb, however, this footage offers a rather less convenient result.

Instead of reducing the pressure around his upcoming fight, it gives him one more thing to worry about, which is probably not what anyone had in mind when they pressed play.