VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

For all the time Hayakawa has known him, Ryoma has always been remarkably difficult to convince that his own perception might be misleading him. Yet hearing him acknowledge the possibility now is, at least, somewhat reassuring.

”Don’t you have any plans to see that psychiatrist again?” Hayakawa asks.

”What for?” Ryoma asks flatly.

”Well, considering how fragile you looked back then, crying over your fallen opponent like that. And the guy’s condition is still unclear even now. I figured you might need to see her again before your next tite fight.”

Ryoma stays silent for a moment, his eyes still fixed on the television as he seriously considers the suggestion. After a brief pause, he gives a small nod.

”I’ll think about it,” he says. ”But I really don’t have much time. I’ve only got about ten months before I have to fight this guy at Tokyo Dome. And unfortunately, I need a longer recovery period this time, which means I don’t have much time left for my training camp.”

At that moment, Aramaki walks into the living room and casually greets Ryoma before glancing at the television.

”Watching that fight again?” he asks. ”I remember you used to brag that you only needed to watch a recording once, and your brain would remember everything.”

Ryoma gives him a disinterested look and lets out a tired sigh, as though he already feels exhausted at the thought of having to repeat the same explanation he just gave Hayakawa.

Aramaki takes a seat beside Hayakawa and watches the fight for a few moments before giving Ryoma a teasing grin.

”Don’t tell me he’s tough enough that you actually need to pay extra attention to him.”

”Why don’t you watch it yourself and give me your assessment?”

The invitation comes without any change in Ryoma’s expression, but there is enough challenge in his voice to make Aramaki’s grin widen.

On the screen, Derrick Allen and Sherwin Parry are already deep into their exchange, the footage capturing the heavy atmosphere of a high-level professional bout. The crowd remains restless throughout the arena, reacting to every shift in momentum as both fighters move with the speed and precision expected from men competing near the top of the division.

Allen, fighting out of Jamaica, carries himself with a composed intensity that immediately distinguishes him from the ordinary pressure fighters seen at this level. There is nothing wild about his movements, yet Parry is rarely given enough room to fight comfortably, with Allen constantly occupying the space around him and forcing the contest to unfold on his terms.

After watching the exchange for a while, Hayakawa finally gives his assessment with a mildly dismissive tone.

”Honestly, I don’t see what you’re so interested in. He’s good, sure, but he doesn’t look like anything special.”

This is not because Hayakawa genuinely underestimates Derrick Allen or believes he could handle the Jamaican fighter with his own hands.

As a professional bodyguard, he is quite perceptive when it comes to judging someone’s fighting ability. And from Hayakawa’s perspective, Derrick Allen simply cannot be compared to Umemoto.

”From what I can see, Umemoto was clearly on another level compared to this guy when it came to speed, power, and the intensity of his attacks.”

”Well, at least he’s not as stupid as Umemoto,” Ryoma replies.

Hayakawa falls silent, watching the screen for a moment before letting out another quiet scoff as he realizes Ryoma has a point.

Allen’s movements may look aggressive, but throughout the fight, he rarely forces himself into prolonged, brutal exchanges the way Umemoto did.

Meanwhile, Aramaki still has not said a word. He has actually watched this recording twice before, right here with Ryoma, but never made it past the fourth round before deciding to leave.

Now, watching it for the third time, he begins to notice something else. And the further the fight progresses, the more Aramaki feels that he needs to keep watching, not for Ryoma, but for himself.

By the time the fight reaches the seventh round, Ryoma knows Allen has already taken complete control of the bout, and there is little left for him to study. Parry is barely able to offer anything meaningful at this point.

”How about it, Aramaki?” Ryoma asks, deliberately drawing him out. ”I don’t usually see you this serious when you’re watching a fighter who isn’t even someone you’ll ever have to fight.”

”I’m not sure,” Aramaki says after a moment. ”Something about the way he applies pressure just doesn’t sit right with me.”

He keeps watching the screen as Parry repeatedly tries to disengage, only for Allen to keep closing the space before he can properly settle.

”He’s not just chasing him around the ring. Somehow, every time his opponent tries to get away, Allen seems to know where he’s going next.”

Ryoma gives a small smile, as if Aramaki has finally noticed the same thing he did.

”You already understand the philosophy behind Cuban Defensive Geometry, right?” he asks.

”Yeah,” Aramaki replies. ”You don’t let your opponent build combinations by constantly stepping out of the line of attack. But you don’t create too much distance either. You keep drawing them forward, letting them build their combinations while staying within punching range. Yet your movement gradually disrupts their form whenever they become too aggressive or reckless.”

”This guy,” Ryoma says, gesturing toward the television, ”what he’s doing could almost be called the antithesis of that philosophy.”

Aramaki blinks. ”How so?”

”Why don’t you watch a little longer?” Ryoma says. ”At least this round still has something worth learning for you.”

On the television, Sherwin Parry is still trying to avoid direct confrontation, using the round to give his body time to recover after being knocked down in the previous one.

At the highest level of professional boxing, everyone understands the basic principle Aramaki mentioned, even fighters who do not specifically adopt the Cuban system.

Move out of your opponent’s line of attack, but keep your movements as minimal as possible so you do not waste too much space trying to escape.

And Parry does all of that reasonably well in this fight, which is enough to show just how good his ring IQ and footwork really are.

Allen, on the other hand, remains relentlessly aggressive, appearing almost desperate to keep pursuing his opponent.

His hands rarely stop, constantly throwing attacks, feints, and hesitation movements as he tries to force Sherwin Parry into another exchange.

”At first glance, it looks as though Allen is simply forcing his combinations,” Aramaki finally says. ”Yet whenever Parry manages to escape and Allen continues pursuing him, Allen’s form never falls apart.”

”How can he maintain his form while applying this much pressure when everything looks so chaotic on the surface?”

”Because fundamentally, what he’s doing isn’t chaotic at all,” Ryoma replies.