VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

The next morning, Ryoma finally returns to the gym with Aramaki. Hayakawa comes with them as usual, still serving as both Ryoma’s bodyguard and driver. The moment they enter the building, Hayakawa heads straight for the bench nearest to the exit and sits down without a word, as though the bench has long since become his usual seat.

Hiroshi looks up first. The moment he realizes who has just walked through the entrance, his expression changes slightly, his eyes lingering on Ryoma for a second longer than usual.

Sera reacts almost the same way. He pauses what he is doing and looks toward Ryoma, his expression showing a brief flicker of surprise at the unexpected sight of him.

Even Nakahara takes a moment before saying anything. Then he walks over, his expression softens for a moment, relief and something close to emotion passing through his eyes at the sight of his fighter standing in front of him again.

Then his eyes settling on the bruising still visible around Ryoma’s eyes, the split on the bottom of his lip has yet to heal completely.

Nakahara quickly covers his relief with his usual tone. ”What, isn’t this a little too soon for you to be back?”

Ryoma gives him a dry smile. ”Here I thought you’d already missed me.”

Nakahara lets out a short chuckle as he continues studying the bruises on Ryoma’s face. ”Don’t force it. After a fight that brutal, one week of recovery isn’t going to be enough. Go home and rest. It’s not time for you to start training again.”

”I didn’t come here to train,” Ryoma replies.

He has already started walking toward the stairs leading to the upper floor. Nakahara turns to watch him for a moment before speaking again.

”Even if you’re here to act as the CEO of Ronin, I’m sorry, kid, but I’m still not letting you do that.”

Ryoma doesn’t respond. He simply keeps walking toward the stairs. Before he can reach the stairs, Kurogane appears from the upper floor, coming down the stairs with slightly hurried steps.

He stops when he sees Ryoma standing there.

”Ryoma… you are back.”

Ryoma grins, then briefly turns his head toward Nakahara. ”At least there’s still someone here who missed me.”

Then he turns back toward Kurogane. ”Speaking of which, why haven’t I received my purse yet?”

Kurogane looks slightly caught off guard. ”Ah, about that... they haven’t sent it yet.”

”Haven’t sent it yet?” Ryoma repeats in disbelief. ”It’s already been eight days since the fight. Forget about all the revenue shares I’m supposed to receive. They haven’t even sent my purse yet?”

He then turns toward Nakahara before shifting his gaze to Hiroshi and Sera, studying each of them in turn with a cold expression that makes his displeasure unmistakable.

”What the hell is going on? Haven’t they sent the money yet, or do they simply have no intention of paying me?”

Kurogane clears his throat slightly before answering. ”Yeah. Ishimaru doesn’t want to pay you after what you did to Umemoto.”

Ryoma looks slightly taken aback, his face twisting into an almost ridiculous expression at the argument.

”What? What exactly did I do? They almost took my title from me. Just because I won doesn’t mean they can suddenly ignore the contract. Is there a clause saying all those deals become void if I win? No, right?”

For a moment, nobody says anything. Kurogane, Nakahara, Sera, and Hiroshi exchange glances from where they stand, each of them seeming to register the same strange feeling. The Ryoma standing in front of them now seems almost nothing like the fragile young man they had seen after the fight.

They had expected him to remain weighed down by what happened to Umemoto, still struggling with the shock of seeing his opponent collapse in front of him. Instead, he suddenly seems like the Ryoma they knew before all of this happened.

”Kid,” Nakahara says, ”do you know what Umemoto’s condition is right now?”

Ryoma turns toward him. ”No. I haven’t really been following the news anymore. Why? Don’t tell me I actually killed him.”

”Umemoto is still in a coma,” Kurogane says. ”And Ishimaru blames you for it, or rather, he blames what he calls your excessive brutality.”

”What kind of joke is this?” Ryoma scoffs. ”If there’s anyone he should blame, he should blame himself for being too obsessed and greedy about taking my title that he forgot to protect his own fighter.”

He turns toward Nakahara.

”Am I right, old man?”

Nakahara blinks a few times before clearing his throat.

”Yeah, you got it right. Whatever happened to Umemoto, it’s not your fault. It’s the referee’s job to stop the fight when he sees that it’s gone too far. And the fighter’s second can always throw in the towel to protect his fighter. It’s not your responsibility.”

Nakahara’s argument is sound. In fact, there was never any logical reason for Ryoma to blame himself for what happened to Umemoto.

Nakahara understands that, as do Kurogane and the rest of the coaching staff. Whatever emotions surrounded the fight, the responsibility for protecting a fighter ultimately belonged to the officials and his corner. Ryoma had done what he was there to do: fight within the rules and win the bout.

What none of them can explain is why Ryoma had been so devastated that night. They had seen how broken and fragile he looked after the fight, crying over Umemoto’s unconscious body as though he had personally caused the tragedy.

He had even shut himself away afterward, refusing to speak to almost anyone and even avoiding Nakahara when he came to see him. Yet now, standing in front of them, Ryoma suddenly seems like a completely different person.

Compared with the naive and gentle Ryoma they had once seen, the man standing here now might even appear apathetic, almost cold enough to seem heartless.

But if they set aside their emotions and examine everything that happened with a clear head, the conclusion is simple. As a boxer, Ryoma cannot logically be blamed for what happened to Umemoto.

”We believe you’re not at fault,” Nakahara says. ”We’ve already made that clear in our public statements, too. The Umemoto camp has no legitimate reason to withhold your purse.”

”For now,” Kurogane adds, ”we’re giving them until the end of the week to settle everything. If they still refuse, we’ll take the matter to court. But honestly, I’d rather Ishimaru simply pay what he owes us so we don’t have to waste time dealing with a legal dispute.”

Ryoma looks slightly more satisfied after hearing that, though not entirely convinced.

”Good,” he says with a nod. ”Let’s hope he sends the money without forcing us to deal with any unnecessary trouble.”

Ryoma then continues up the stairs, leaving the others behind.

Nakahara watches him for several moments before shifting his gaze toward Kenta, who is standing near the ring.

For a moment, Kenta looks back at him. Neither of them says anything, but they seem to be thinking about the same thing, their conversation with Dr. Miyahara from the previous night still fresh in their minds.

After seeing Ryoma return to the gym like this, those three distinctive personalities of his seem even easier to recognize.

There is the naive boy, whose thoughts and reactions are almost childishly innocent.

There is the sadistic fighter, whose presence is equally easy to recognize once it emerges.

And then there is the Ryoma standing before them now: the one with adaptive intelligence, always capable of adjusting himself to whatever the circumstances demand, making him far more difficult to read.

It is the same quality that once earned him the nickname ”The Chameleon.” And it is this Chameleon that makes him seem as though he has countless different faces.

For Nakahara, he can only hope that Ryoma remains in this state. He may be difficult to read, but this version of Ryoma is the one he can rely on the most.