VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

For a brief moment, Ishimaru looks genuinely cornered. The imposing boss persona he had carried into the room seems to disappear entirely.

Kurogane may be acting arrogant, but everything he has said is backed by numbers and events the entire boxing industry already knows to be real.

Ishimaru’s eyes shift toward Ryoma for a moment, still seated behind his desk and seemingly untouched by the tension around him.

Somehow, the room suddenly feels much larger than it had when Ishimaru walked in, and he finds himself looking a little smaller inside it.

Perhaps he had spent too long believing that being a major promoter in Osaka meant he was automatically a major figure wherever he went.

After a moment, Ishimaru clears his throat once and forces his composure back into place. If the numbers have failed, perhaps the pressure waiting outside can still be useful.

”Have you forgotten?” he says. ”The world champion himself was the one running his mouth about accepting Umemoto’s challenge. And now you’re going to crawl back like a fucking coward?”

”Well,” Kurogane replies casually, ”Ryoma has already gone out of his way to make the media hate him. Whatever you do from here isn’t going to make our situation any worse.”

Ishimaru’s face tightens again. Before he can say anything, however, Umemoto suddenly rises from the sofa and points toward Ryoma.

”Hey, Champ!” he shouts. ”You gonna sit over there all fucking day watching porn, or are you actually gonna face me?”

Kurogane looks over his shoulder and finds Ryoma merely shifting slightly in his chair, rubbing the tip of his nose with one hand while his attention remains fixed on his smartphone.

The sight only makes Umemoto’s blood boil further. ”You fucking said it yourself!” he shouts. ”You were the one running your mouth, challenging me. Whenever. Wherever. So come on, kid. Quit fucking hiding from me like a coward!”

Still no reaction from Ryoma, Kurogane takes control of the situation again, casually gesturing for Umemoto to calm down.

”Hey, hey… don’t get carried away with his public statement. He did say wherever, and whenever. But that doesn’t mean you can drag our asset to Osaka, squeeze everything you can out of him, and treat him like some cheap convenience-store lunch.”

Kurogane then glances toward Ishimaru, his expression remaining perfectly calm.

”We’re here to discuss business, Ishimaru-san, not hold some meeting between street punks getting ready to start a brawl.”

Ishimaru immediately raises a hand. ”Calm down, Umemoto. Let me handle this.”

But Umemoto only scoffs, still visibly furious. ”Fuck this. I’m done listening to this bullshit.”

He heads for the door, still muttering curses under his breath. ”Fucking hell… what a bunch of arrogant bastards…”

Kamiya looks momentarily panicked and quickly rises from the sofa and hurries after him. Now only Ishimaru remains in the room, sitting in silence as the negotiation takes an increasingly unpleasant turn.

Kurogane looks at him for a moment. Realizing there is little room left for maneuvering in this negotiation, he simply decides to put Ronin’s own terms on the table.

”If you still want to take Ryoma to Osaka,” he begins, ”I’ll give you unnegotiable terms. USD 7.5 million, 30 percent share of broadcasting revenue, both domestic and international, and 50 percent of the gate revenue.”

Ishimaru’s expression immediately hardens, but Kurogane simply continues without giving him time to respond.

”And we already have an event scheduled at Tokyo Dome in less than five months,” he says. ”So if you want Ryoma to fight Umemoto, the bout can only take place at least a month and a half from now. Make it next week if you want. I don’t give a damn. Just keep it within a month and a half.”

By opening with ”unnegotiable terms,” Kurogane makes it clear that there is no room left for Ishimaru to pressure him. After all, they are not convenient excuses to walk away from the fight. They are simply the reality of Ryoma’s market value and Ronin’s increasingly tight schedule.

Ishimaru just stays still for a moment, staring directly into Kurogane’s eyes with an unreadable expression. Then he abruptly rises, buttons his suit, and walks out of the office without saying another word.

Kurogane only watches him leave, his gaze cold. Inside, however, he feels quietly satisfied. At last, he has shown Ishimaru how completely the balance has shifted between them.

***

The satisfaction soon fades. Kurogane exhales, lets his usual expression return, then gets up and walks over to Ryoma.

”You really are something,” he says. ”Of all the things you could be doing right now, you decide to watch porn. And you even leave the sound on. Were you trying to piss the guy off, or what?”

Ryoma winces at the absurd misunderstanding. ”That wasn’t porn. Some stupid game ad just popped up while I was reading an article.”

Kurogane stares at him for a long moment, his eyebrows slowly climbing as a thoroughly stupid expression spreads across his face.

Then he simply shakes his head, looking exhausted by the explanation itself, then walks over to the glass window and glances down at the street outside.

”Let’s just hope they don’t turn that little incident into a media story.”

”Let them,” Ryoma says casually. ”Like you said, I’ve already done a pretty good job of making myself look vulgar. The media hates me anyway.”

Ryoma keeps reading the article on his smartphone, casually absorbed without paying much attention to anything else around him.

Lately, he has been reading more about mental health, particularly anything that might help him understand his own tendency to overthink every possible consequence.

One idea has begun to appeal to him precisely because it feels so unlike the way he normally operates.

Stop worrying about every implication.

Stop trying to calculate where every decision might lead.

Just do what feels necessary and let the universe deal with whatever comes afterward.

For someone whose mind insists on turning every possibility into another problem, the idea feels strangely liberating.

***

For Umemoto, however, liberation remains a distant luxury; his ego is still very much holding the steering wheel.

The moment he reaches outside, he simply unloads the whole ridiculous encounter on the waiting reporters.

”That fucking Ryoma sat there the entire time staring at his phone like I wasn’t even in the room.”

At this point, the reporters barely have to do anything. Umemoto is practically writing the headline for them.

”I even could hear some damn porn playing from his side while we were trying to talk business.”

Several reporters immediately perk up, their cameras still rolling as a few exchange quick, startled glances.

”What the fuck is wrong with that guy? You’re the world champion, you’ve got someone standing right there challenging you, and you’re sitting there watching porn like this is some fucking joke.”

The remark immediately sets off a fresh wave of noise among the reporters. Questions overlap, cameras push forward, and several journalists begin shouting after Umemoto as he continues toward the waiting cars.

What had already been an ugly negotiation inside Ronin now threatens to become an even uglier media circus outside, with Umemoto apparently more than happy to keep feeding it.