VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Three weeks away from serious training have left Ryoma’s body noticeably different from the one that stepped into the ring against Umemoto.

He is back in the gym now, but even the simplest conditioning work feels heavier than it should. Hiroshi starts him with a light warm-up, followed by several rounds of jump rope, bodyweight exercises, short sprints, and controlled bag work, carefully keeping the intensity below anything resembling fight preparation.

Ryoma manages each drill without complaint, yet his breathing becomes increasingly labored as the session continues. His legs feel heavy, his shoulders burn, and sweat quickly soaks through his shirt. Even his footwork, normally effortless, begins losing its sharpness as fatigue accumulates.

Hiroshi watches closely before moving him into a final conditioning drill.

”Thirty seconds. Fast feet. Keep the rhythm clean.”

Ryoma plants himself in front of the marker and begins moving. For the first few seconds, his feet respond normally.

Then the fatigue catches up with him. His steps become heavier, his breathing turns ragged, and the rhythm he usually maintains without thought starts breaking apart.

”Keep it going,” Hiroshi calls. ”Don’t let the fatigue change your mechanics.”

Ryoma pushes harder. And his calves begin tightening. His chest rises and falls rapidly.

By the time Hiroshi calls the end of the interval, Ryoma immediately stops and bends forward, placing both hands against his thighs while trying to recover his breathing.

Hiroshi waits a few seconds before approaching. ”That’s enough for today. We’ll bring the workload up gradually.”

Ryoma glances at him. ”That’s it?”

Hiroshi blinks, then studies him for a moment. ”Well, you know your own body better than anyone. If you honestly feel like you’ve got more in the tank, we can keep going.”

He pauses briefly before adding, ”I just don’t want to push you too hard this early. Your body’s been through enough this year.”

Ryoma gives him a small, innocent smile before standing upright.

”Man, I’m really lucky to have a friend who worries this much.”

Without offering any argument, he simply walks away.

”Alright. I’ll cool down first.”

Hiroshi watches him for a moment, quietly considering the response Ryoma has just given him.

Lately, he has noticed that Ryoma’s mood seems to be getting lighter with each passing day. Even now, Ryoma is joking around with Aramaki and Okabe, laughing and casually joining in with their banter.

Ryoma being close with Aramaki is nothing unusual. But normally, he is calmer around him, often delivering his jokes with the same deadpan expression.

This time, however, Ryoma seems much brighter and more jovial, completely unguarded. He even joins Okabe’s crude and occasionally dirty humor.

”Aramaki, why do you always look so serious when you train?” Okabe whines.

Aramaki stares at him with an exaggeratedly stern face. Ryoma immediately points at Aramaki’s face, like he just got a ”gotcha” moment.

”Oh, Okabe. You’ve got your answer already.”

Okabe bursts into laughter, and Ryoma follows along with him, while Aramaki simply blinks in confusion, clearly having no idea what the joke was.

Still laughing, Okabe wipes the corner of his eye. ”Jesus Christ, Aramaki. You look like you’re about to fuck someone up even when you’re just standing there. No wonder nobody wants to ask you for directions.”

”Exactly,” Ryoma says, still laughing. ”I remember this middle school kid from the neighborhood once asked him where our new gym was, and he somehow ended up taking him all the way to the Tama River.”

Aramaki’s face scrunches as he remembers the incident, looking mildly annoyed for a moment before he finally gives in and lets out a small laugh with a silly grin.

And then, not wanting to become the subject of another joke between the two of them, Aramaki tries to steer the conversation toward something else.

”Please, enough goofing around already. Hey, Ryoma, when can you spar with me?”

”Hiroshi said I’m not allowed to push myself yet,” Ryoma says with exaggerated seriousness.

Then his expression gradually turns stupid again. ”So please, Aramaki, be gentle with me. I just got back, and I’d rather not leave this gym wearing my own shit.”

The self-deprecating punchline is so unexpected coming from Ryoma that even Okabe is caught completely off guard. He bursts into another fit of unhinged laughter and doubling over as he slaps the floor repeatedly.

”Gyahahaha! The Cruel King... ugh... walking down the street with shit in his pants?! BraHAHAHA!”

The commotion draws the attention of everyone else in the gym. Okabe is known for his crude jokes and loud laughter, but it has been quite a while since anyone has seen him completely lose himself like this. The last time he laughed this hard was back when Ryohei was still training with them.

Satoru and the other younger athletes simply exchange uncertain smiles, having no idea what the joke is about but unable to ignore Okabe’s uncontrollable laughter.

Hiroshi, however, is more interested in Ryoma, who has somehow become the center of the entire commotion.

A moment later, Kenta approaches him from behind. ”So, the soft and jovial Ryoma has made a comeback, huh?”

Hiroshi turns toward him. ”Huh?”

Kenta gestures subtly toward Ryoma with his chin. ”Three weeks ago, Nakahara and I had a visit from Dr. Miyahara, Ryoma’s psychiatrist.”

He shifts his posture, turning fully toward Hiroshi. ”She said Ryoma might have not just two personalities, but three. And each one seems to be quite complex.”

Hiroshi’s expression immediately becomes serious. ”For real?”

Kenta nods. ”And I think you can recognize all three. The Cruel King who sent Umemoto into retirement. The Chameleon who gave those journalists that carefully calculated, controversial statement. And then this one…”

Kenta tilts his head slightly toward Ryoma, who is still laughing with Aramaki and Okabe.

”The cheerful, naive Ryoma we used to know back in the day.”

Hiroshi’s attention slowly shifts back toward Ryoma, and an uncomfortable feeling begins settling inside him.

On one hand, he prefers seeing Ryoma like this. The lighter mood, the easy laughter, and the way he seems willing to joke around with everyone make him look more like the Ryoma they used to know.

But at the same time, Hiroshi cannot help remembering the other version of him. The fragile Ryoma who once broke down in tears inside the ring, the kind-hearted boy whom Nakahara had once judged as someone who might never truly belong in professional boxing.

”So, I caught some of your exchange earlier,” Kenta says, quietly pulling Hiroshi’s attention back toward him. ”And I noticed how easily Ryoma accepted your decision without arguing. He even thanked you for worrying about him. And that’s not something he normally does during training.”

Hiroshi swallows hard as Kenta’s words sink in. He felt it himself, there is simply less hunger in Ryoma, less of that relentless drive that once pushed himself to break his limit.

”My advice?” Kenta continues. ”Don’t spoil him too much. I’m worried he might start accepting everything without question, and without meaning to, you could end up making him weaker.”

Hiroshi can’t argue with Kenta’s advice. He has noticed the same change in Ryoma over the past few days, and somehow, it has begun to show in the way he approaches training as well.

None of them knows exactly when that transition took place, or what caused it. Yet there is something else that has been happening around Ryoma, something none of them could have noticed.