VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Talk about heavily guarded. The two sentries stationed at the main gate are merely the beginning. Beyond them, security personnel move through the estate in disciplined rotations, keeping watch over the grounds with the quiet vigilance of men who have long since learned that nothing is ever truly beyond their notice.

Even the mansion itself is fortified. Sensors and scanners are woven into the house’s architecture, making the possession of a key seem almost old-fashioned. Here, entry is not granted merely because one possesses the right piece of metal.

Fumiko is the first to step out of the Alphard. She adjusts her coat and walks toward the front door, only to slow when a small digital panel beside the entrance suddenly illuminates.

She stops, and a faint beam sweeps across her face and eyes. A beat later, her identity appears on the screen, followed by her body temperature.

Then comes a pleasant electronic voice.

[Identity confirmed. Welcome home, Takeda-san. You appear to be in good health today.]

The lock clicks open. Fumiko stares at the door for a moment before slowly turning toward Ryoma, her expression utterly unimpressed.

”Do we really need this?”

Kaori, standing beside her, smiles as she pushes the door open.

”Isn’t this cool, Takeda-san? More practical, too. No need to carry keys around, and you don’t have to worry about losing them.”

Fumiko steps inside with a sigh, rubbing the back of her neck.

”But does it really need to check our temperature?”

”Come on, Mom,” Ryoma says. ”That feature happens to come with the installation package. Besides, what’s wrong with it?”

”There’s nothing wrong with you paying attention to the health of everyone in this house. I’m just confused by your strange obsession with viruses, the flu, and stuff like that.”

Ryoma falls silent. For once, his mind offers no suitable defense. Before he can say anything, Aramaki passes him with Nanako in his arms, giving Ryoma a sympathetic shrug.

”She has a point, Ryoma. I’m starting to think your concern about all this is becoming a little concerning.”

Hayakawa follows behind him. He stops for a moment, gives Ryoma a brief look, then nods once.

”He has a point.”

Ryoma can only shake his head with a tired long sigh.

After Tsuneo enters, Ryoma pulls the door shut behind him. The instant it settles into its frame, the lock engages with a quiet mechanical click.

Ryoma purchases this large, secluded property on a hillside in the Tama Hills around six months ago. Rather than acquiring an existing mansion, he has the entire house built from the ground up according to his own plans, leaving nothing to chance and nothing to the whims of a previous owner.

The property covers several hectares, with more than enough space for the mansion, gardens, and a wide running track that Ryoma specifically has built for his morning roadwork.

The mansion sits higher up on the hillside, overlooking the Tama River, its broad modern design rising above the surrounding grounds. Large windows stretch across its walls, opening the interior to expansive views of the estate.

Ryoma divides the house into two private wings. One belongs to him and Fumiko, while the other is reserved for Aramaki, Kaori, and Nanako, with a spacious shared area connecting the two.

There may be no blood relation between them, but the way Ryoma designs the house makes his intentions unmistakable: as far as he is concerned, the Aramakis are family.

For Aramaki and Kaori, who were once cast out by their own families, having a place where they are wanted and treated as equals is worth far more than the sprawling mansion itself.

***

Even the servants who work within the mansion are treated as professionals, no differently from Hayakawa and his team of bodyguards. Their duties may differ, their responsibilities may carry different weights, but within these walls, neither position grants one person greater worth than another.

For the same reason, when dinner arrives, they all sit together at the same large dining table, without distinction of status. The only difference between them is functional—the role each person fulfills within the household.

And that alone is enough to reveal how humble Ryoma remains, despite his wealth, stature, and reputation. For all that the world attributes to his name, none of it seems to have altered the way he regards the people around him.

Yet, when he turns on the television during his leisure time, Ryoma finds himself confronted by an altogether different version of reality.

There, beneath the harsh glow of the screen, his name is being dissected and displayed with a narrative sharpened by hostility, every word carrying a deliberate edge of contempt.

”World Champion Ryoma Takeda is facing growing criticism tonight after an ugly confrontation with members of the press outside Ronin Fight Management earlier this afternoon.”

”Takeda, who has enjoyed an enormous rise in popularity since winning the world championship, reportedly lost his temper when reporters approached him after training.”

”Several journalists had been waiting outside the building for hours, hoping to ask the champion about Bulgarian challenger Nikolai Dragunov and the increasingly heated atmosphere surrounding their upcoming fight.”

”Instead, they were met with hostility.”

”According to multiple witnesses, Takeda shouted at one reporter and demanded that he stay away from him, accusing the journalist of putting his health at risk simply by standing too close without a mask.”

”Perhaps more striking than the incident itself is how different Takeda appears today compared to the boxer Japanese fans first came to know.”

”Before becoming World Champion, Takeda was known for his humility. He trained in a modest gym, lived a relatively ordinary life, and was often seen walking home after training.”

”Today, things look rather different.”

The report cuts to footage taken from across the street, showing Ryoma standing beside Hayakawa and Aramaki as the reporters crowd around him. Then his own voice comes through the television.

”Back off!!!”

”Look at your nose! It’s fucking red from the cold, and you’re standing this close to me without a mask on!”

”You trying to fucking kill me?”

Ryoma’s eyebrow twitches. Seeing himself like this, even he has to admit that he looks terrible.

At the same time, Aramaki comes running into the room with Nanako, laughing as he carries her around.

Ryoma quickly reaches for the remote, and switches channels. Unfortunately, the next program is talking about the exact same thing.

”Takeda now travels in a luxury vehicle, lives behind the gates of a heavily guarded private estate, and appears increasingly unwilling to speak to the same reporters who helped turn his career into a national story.”

He changes it again. Another channel is showing the footage, and another is already discussing whether fame and money have changed the World Champion.

”Has success changed Ryoma Takeda?”

”Or has the World Champion simply decided that he no longer needs the people who were there before he reached the top?”

Ryoma keeps switching until Aramaki finally settles onto the sofa with Nanako in his lap, completely unaware of what has been happening.

”Look, Nanako. Your old man can still run faster than you.”

”I wasn’t even running!”

”You were running.”

”I was walking fast!”

”That is what people say when they lose a race.”

Nanako laughs as Ryoma changes the channel one last time.

This time, a Japanese comedy program appears, with several guest celebrities sitting around a studio and reacting to funny video clips. Ryoma lowers the remote and finally leaves it there.

Unfortunately, the comedy program turns out to be no escape either. The next video shows Ryoma from an entirely different interview, sitting behind a microphone and speaking with the same dead-serious expression he always wears whenever the subject turns to health.

”Cold and flu viruses spread very easily when people gather in crowded places. You should avoid unnecessary crowds whenever possible.”

The studio audience bursts into laughter. One of the comedians shakes his head in disbelief.

”He’s talking about avoiding crowds like he’s already planning to live on a mountain.”

Another guest points at the screen. ”He’s not a boxer. He’s a germaphobe with boxing gloves.”

The audience laughs again before a third comedian leans toward the screen. ”Imagine inviting Ryoma to your birthday party.” He puts on a serious voice. ”Sorry, I can’t come. There are seventeen people in the room.”

More laughter erupts across the studio, with several guests doubling over and slapping their thighs as they struggle to catch their breath.

Nanako even points at the television now, her eyes lighting up when she recognizes the familiar face.

”Ah, Papa, that’s Ryoma! Uncle Ryoma is in TV!”

Aramaki glances at the screen, then at Ryoma’s increasingly serious expression. Seeming to understanding the sour mood, he immediately pats Nanako gently on the back.

”Alright, Nanako-chan. That’s enough television for now. Go to your mother. It’s time for you to rest.”

”But they’re still talking about Ryoma.”

”I know. You can tell your mother all about it.”

Nanako climbs down from the sofa and starts walking toward the other room.

”Okay. See you tomorrow, Ryoma.”

Ryoma doesn’t answer. His eyes remain fixed on the television, his expression cold and unreadable.

Aramaki watches him for a moment. The fact that Ryoma doesn’t even respond to Nanako is enough to tell him that this is more serious than he initially thought.

”Now that I’m thinking about it,” Aramaki says, his voice becoming quieter. ”Back then, when you were in such a hurry to achieve everything within two years, you talked about this with me too. A global pandemic.”

He pauses, studying Ryoma’s face. ”So, Ryoma... is this what you meant back then? Were you really serious about it?”

Ryoma doesn’t takes his attention from the TV. He doesn’t answer at all, because he knows there is no point anymore.

As far as he remembers, the disaster begins this month in his previous life, starting in London before spreading to the entire Europe and America, then eventually reaching every corner of the world.

He is aware that things have already changed since his return to the past. Events no longer follow the exact path he remembers, and some things have shifted so much that even he cannot predict what will happen next.

But he also knows how far his influence can reach. He can change the things around him, things within his control. But a global disaster is different. That is far beyond him.

And the fact that none of his warnings have made any real difference is proof enough. No matter how much he tries to prepare the people, it simply cannot be stopped.