VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Kansai’s sports media wastes very little time turning Umemoto’s victory over Liam O’Connell into something considerably larger than a WBO ranking bout.

Within days, his seventh-round stoppage is being treated as if he has not merely defeated the WBO number-one contender, but kicked down the front door of the lightweight division and announced that he owns the place now.

The headlines are suitably modest, considering the fact that Umemoto has just beaten the WBO’s number-one contender.

UMEMOTO DESTROYS WBO NUMBER-ONE CONTENDER!

THE RAMPAGING BEAST HAS ARRIVED!

UMEMOTO IS READY FOR THE WORLD TITLE!

But the rest of the coverage is considerably less modest. The columns are filled with competitive hostility, wounded pride, and the kind of territorial language that makes the lightweight division sound like disputed ground.

”Umemoto Kimitada has just dismantled the WBO’s number-one contender, and there is no longer any convincing argument for keeping him behind anyone else.”

”If Ryoma Takeda truly believes himself to be the king of Japanese boxing, then perhaps he should stop watching challengers from a safe distance and finally fight one.”

”Ryoma’s scandals, his deliberately filthy public persona, and his increasingly shameless behavior have already made him an embarrassment. A man like that has no place representing Japanese boxing.”

”Japan deserves a champion who represents its boxing tradition with pride, not a vulgar celebrity hiding behind a championship belt whenever a legitimate challenger comes knocking.”

And no matter how hard Ryoma tries to ignore the media’s relentless coverage, it eventually follows him everywhere, even into places where he expects to be left alone.

Following Dr. Mizuno’s advice, he finally agrees to see the psychiatrist he recommended, Dr. Miyahara Saki. He hopes that, at the very least, talking to her might give him some peace of mind.

And it does not take long for him to discover that even here, he has not escaped the narrative surrounding him.

”So, Ryoma-kun... about this alcoholic and sex addict business. How much of that statement is actually true?” Miyahara asks.

Ryoma lets out a tired breath and leans back in his chair, his expression flattening. ”Please, Miyahara-san. Can we not talk about this? I honestly just want to get away from all this pressure for a while, and you’re already bringing it up again.”

Miyahara tilts her head. ”But isn’t that the whole reason you’re here? You came because you want to deal with whatever is causing all this pressure, didn’t you?”

Her tone remains light, almost teasing. ”Or did you just come here looking for a girl who’ll listen to you like one of those rental girlfriends? Because if that’s all you’re after, Ryoma-kun, my consultation fee is going to be far too expensive for that kind of service.”

Ryoma rubs his forehead. He knows Miyahara is only trying to lighten the mood, but he is far too exhausted to appreciate the joke.

Miyahara gives him a moment before shifting the subject. ”Can I ask you something a little more personal?” she says, waiting until he gives her a reluctant nod. ”When was the last time you went on a date with a girl?”

”If you mean going out for a meal, I still do that,” Ryoma answers.

”I’m not talking about the activity itself.” Miyahara smiles gently. ”I mean someone you have genuine feelings for. Someone who can make something as ordinary as sitting together at a bus stop feel special.”

For a moment, Miyahara’s first question brought Reika to his mind. But when she changes the question and asks about someone he genuinely has feelings for, Ryoma finds himself thinking of Kaede instead.

After a moment, he looks back at Miyahara. ”What’s the urgency of talking about this?”

Miyahara simply rests her hands over the notebook and gives him a small smile. ”Because I’m not really asking whether you’re dating, Ryoma-kun. I’m asking whether there is still someone in your life who makes you forget that you’re a boxer for a little while.”

Ryoma shifts slightly in his chair, his expression tightening as he looks away from her. ”There was someone like that. But I pushed her out of my life.”

”Why? Did something happen?”

”Not really. I just felt that having her around would interfere with my career. At the time, I thought I couldn’t have everything that I wanted. Like I had to choose between the two.”

”Was this the girl who made you choose?”

Ryoma remains silent for a long moment. The bored, exhausted look that has been sitting on his face gradually fades as his expression changes, his gaze drifting somewhere beyond Miyahara.

Dr. Miyahara watches him without interrupting, recognizing that her patient has slipped into a private contemplation of his own. Whatever he has chosen to leave behind, the way he has fallen silent suggests that this girl may still mean more to him than he is willing to admit.

And somehow, Ryoma, who has spent the previous sessions keeping himself guarded, suddenly opens up about what he considers the greatest mistake of his life.

”You know, Miyahara-san,” he begins, ”as a boxer, I’m pretty good at playing with my opponent’s psychology. I know how to push certain buttons and make people do what I want them to do. With this girl, I did the same thing. I pushed her out of my life and made it look as though leaving was her choice.”

”And you regret it?” Miyahara asks.

Ryoma nods. ”I’m still thinking about it every night. I believed it was the best thing for both of us. But now I think maybe I was just being paranoid.”

”Ah, that’s right,” Miyahara says, picking up on the word. ”You mentioned your over-anxiety before. You thought you might have inherited it from your mother, that the two of you share this tendency. Did you also spend a lot of time imagining all the things that could go wrong if you stayed with this girl?”

”Yes,” Ryoma says.

From there, he lays out the chain of consequences that had consumed his thoughts at the time, one possibility leading inevitably to another in his mind.

If Kaede stayed with him, he would eventually have to make greater commitments to her, and those commitments would interfere with his career.

If they continued long enough, he imagined the two of them living together while leaving his mother to manage on her own, until one day she would take too many antidepressants and die from an overdose.

In the version of the future he had constructed, everything collapsed in sequence: his career, Kaede, and finally his mother, leaving him with nothing but the knowledge that he had brought all of it upon himself.

Throughout his explanation, Miyahara remains quiet, occasionally writing down a few key words in her notebook and comparing them with notes from their previous sessions. Every so often, she moves between pages, as though checking his latest account against something she has already noticed.

For a moment, her expression grows more serious, as if she is beginning to recognize a pattern repeating itself in the things he tells her.

”At that point, I felt like I couldn’t have everything,” Ryoma says, seeming to reach the end of his story, ”I had to think about my priorities. I had to sacrifice one thing for the sake of another. So I sacrificed her. I made Kaede leave my life.”

Miyahara finally stops writing for a few more seconds. She seems to wait, giving Ryoma enough time to continue if there is anything else he wants to say.

When he remains silent, Miyahara folds her hands over the notebook and studies him for a moment before speaking.

”I think I can say with some confidence that you do have a problem with over-anxiety. Despite that, you’ve managed to get this far. You’ve built an extraordinary career at an age when most people are still trying to figure out what they want to do with their lives. That’s genuinely impressive, Ryoma-kun.”

She pauses, letting that settle before continuing. ”So despite all the problems that come with it, I want you to look at this from the positive side as well. First, you have an unusually sharp awareness of your surroundings. You notice things that most people overlook. Second, your ability to analyze and connect those observations is exceptionally strong. Tracing all those possible scenarios in your head and finding a course of action from them isn’t easy. That’s something you often see in very perceptive, visionary people, and your achievements so far are proof that this ability has served you extremely well.”

Her expression becomes more thoughtful. ”The problem comes when you reach a certain threshold. They stop being useful tools and start becoming distractions. You can begin having trouble separating what is actually happening today from everything that might happen tomorrow.”

Miyahara glances down at her notes before looking back at him. ”And I think that may be at the heart of your anxiety about this global pandemic.”

Inside Ryoma’s head, an amused chuckle surfaces as the System speaks to him in its usual insidious tone.

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Ryoma is quiet for a moment, his eyes drifting toward the floor as he turns Miyahara’s explanation over in his mind.

”Then what about the visions I have?” he asks. ”This Vision Grid System, and all the details it gives me. And the voices I hear. How do you explain those?”

Miyahara studies him for a moment, seemingly unsure how seriously she should take the question.

”On a scale of one to ten, how strongly do you believe this is real?” she asks.

”Ten,” Ryoma answers without hesitation.

Somehow, Miyahara struggles to give any response, her expression tightening as she considers the possibilities.