VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Success is difficult to achieve. But maintaining it can be even harder.

Because comfort has a way of dulling hunger. Once that hunger fades, discipline begins to loosen, focus starts to slip, and the desire to push beyond your limits gradually disappears.

This becomes even more unforgiving in boxing, where consistency is not something you can afford to abandon.

Break that consistency, you will pay for it inside the ring. And sometimes, all it takes is one mistake in a matter of seconds to destroy everything.

And for Ryoma, whether he realizes it or not, the latent danger of success has already begun casting its shadow over him.

”Come on, Aramaki! Don’t just follow me… make me run out of space!”

For once, Ryoma becomes Aramaki’s sparring partner, while Nakahara focuses entirely on working his corner and Ryoma is left without a second.

”Don’t let him run his mouth, Aramaki!” Nakahara shouts from outside the ropes, his voice carrying a rare edge of irritation. ”Cut him off and make him pay for every word he just said!”

Aramaki responds immediately, but not with the same one-dimensional pressure that had defined his old style.

He constantly threatens Ryoma with feints, hesitation movements, and subtle changes in rhythm, making it increasingly difficult to predict when he will actually commit.

Even when he is not quite within the ideal range, Aramaki still lets his compact punches fly, throwing them at slightly awkward moments and from unexpected angles.

There is something deliberately irregular about his offense now, as though he is trying to create uncertainty rather than simply force his way forward.

He is putting every idea Ryoma has given him into practice. And Ryoma of course, understands exactly what Aramaki is trying to do.

”Come on, Aramaki.”

Rather than immediately getting out of the line, Ryoma searches for a tiny gap in Aramaki’s offense.

When he sees it…

Dsh!

His Phantom Jab clips Aramaki’s headgear squarely on the forehead.

Only then does Ryoma calmly slip away from the angle.

”You forgot who gave you those ideas,” Ryoma says calmly. ”And you thought they were going to work on me?”

”Then what am I supposed to do?” Aramaki asks.

Ryoma’s brow creases, as though he can hardly believe Aramaki is seriously asking him for the answer.

”And now you’re begging me for a clue? If this is how you’re going to fight, you’ll never put any mental pressure on me, Aramaki. Mental pressure, Aramaki. Mental pressure!”

Aramaki understands what Ryoma is demanding from him.

Since mind games have never been his natural strength, he decides to approach the sparring session differently.

Instead of thinking of it as practice, he starts treating Ryoma as though they are in an actual sanctioned fight, bringing the same seriousness and intent he would carry into a real bout.

Aramaki settles into his peak-a-boo stance and begins hunting Ryoma with genuine intent to hurt him.

Ryoma tries to keep the distance with compact jabs, but Aramaki slips and rolls around them with increasing efficiency, keeping his posture low as he steadily works his way forward.

For once, Ryoma times another Phantom Jab perfectly.

Dsh!

The punch catches Aramaki and halts his advance for a beat.

But Aramaki forces his way forward anyway, and another Phantom Jab clips the top of his headgear.

Dsh!

This time, Aramaki keeps coming, tightening his neck and rolls his shoulders as he moves, refusing to give the punch enough room to disrupt his advance.

This is not his first time dealing with the Phantom Jab. Aramaki may not be a natural genius at mind games, but his body has already found its own answers.

His rolling movements become faster, constantly trying to move away from the center line.

Whenever he briefly returns to it, his gloves immediately rise to cover his face, ready to protect him whether he knows another Phantom Jab is coming or not.

Finally, his right glove absorbs the Phantom Jab cleanly.

Dug.

Aramaki steps in sharply, dropping his left hand as he prepares a dangerous hook.

Ryoma reacts early, pulling his left hand quickly while taking a wide step to angle himself away from the line.

But Aramaki does not release the hook.

He looks for that moment Ryoma begins escaping, then suddenly launches himself forward with a long Gazelle Punch, following Ryoma’s route.

Ryoma manages to adjust his right guard, but…

BAM!!

Even though the punch is blocked, the impact sends Ryoma’s entire body staggering sideways.

His legs are not completely stable yet, still caught in the transition as he tries to escape.

Aramaki immediately closes the distance, bringing them chest to chest before unleashing a rapid series of heavy short hooks without choosing a specific target.

Dugh. Dugh. THUD! Dugh. BUGH! Dugh.

Even when Ryoma can see the gap where a counter should be possible, his arms are in no condition to turn that intention into anything meaningful.

Eventually, he is forced to step back, trying to blur the distance and angles with his pendulum rhythm.

But it does not work nearly as well as it should.

Aramaki simply tightens his neck and keeps cutting down the space between them, maintaining such a tight distance that even Ryoma’s pendulum steps don’t matter anymore.

At last, Aramaki drives him back toward the ropes.

”Keep him there, Aramaki!” Nakahara shouts, his voice filled with unmistakable satisfaction. ”Don’t give him anywhere to go!”

Ryoma has no choice but to settle behind his Philly Shell, blocking, deflecting, rolling his shoulder, and absorbing the punishment as Aramaki continues throwing until the bell finally rings.

Ding!

The sparring session finally comes to an end, and Ryoma makes no attempt to hide the effects of Aramaki’s punishment.

Despite the relatively small number of clean punches that get through his defense, Ryoma is still left breathing heavily, with both his arms and legs trembling slightly from the intensity of the exchange.

Nakahara’s lips curl into a satisfied smile as he watches Ryoma struggle to catch his breath. For a moment, he expects the younger man to become irritated, perhaps even angry at being pushed around by his own sparring partner.

Instead, Ryoma suddenly breaks into a wide, goofy grin and lets out a laugh.

”Damn, Aramaki! You really didn’t give me a chance to breathe!”

He drapes one arm over Aramaki’s shoulder, making no attempt to hide how exhausted he is as he leans against him.

”Finally, you managed to apply the ideas we’ve been building together.”

Aramaki blinks, caught a little off guard by Ryoma’s reaction to the sparring session.

”You think so?”

”Yes,” Ryoma says with an easy grin. ”You’ve reached a whole new level in your game now.”

Nakahara watches the exchange intently from outside the ring, his expression carrying a faint trace of dissatisfaction as he takes in Ryoma’s response.

It is hardly unusual for Ryoma to praise the development of the fighters around him. He has always been willing to acknowledge improvement when he sees it, especially when someone has genuinely earned his approval.

But when that improvement turns against Ryoma himself in a sparring session, the reaction used to be very different. The old Ryoma would have been irritated by it, his competitive instincts immediately demanding an answer.

Even when praise eventually came from his mouth, there had always been a cold edge to it, with a trace of bitterness driven by his fierce competitiveness and the hunger that had pushed him relentlessly beyond his limits.

But today, Nakahara sees none of that. There is no irritation in Ryoma’s expression, no bitterness hidden behind his smile, and no trace of the competitive fire that would normally flare up after someone pushed him into a corner.

Today, Ryoma simply looks genuinely happy for Aramaki.

”It’s concerning, isn’t it?”

Nakahara glances over his shoulder and finds Sera standing only a few steps behind him.

”Sure, Aramaki’s fighting style has improved considerably,” Sera says. ”But the Ryoma I know wouldn’t find that a problem.”

”Yeah,” Nakahara says with a slow nod. ”And more than his performance, I’m worried about his attitude lately.”

He turns away and begins walking toward the office, with Sera still following close behind.

”He’s getting complacent,” Nakahara says.

”Well, only sixteen fights, and he’s already the reigning world champion,” Sera replies. ”He’s never lost, fourteen of those fights ended by knockout, and two of those victories sent strong fighters into retirement. Honestly, I can’t even see anyone who looks like a real threat to him.”

”That’s exactly the problem,” Nakahara nods. ”He still trains hard. He still follows the schedule and gives everything he has when we put him through difficult sessions. But there’s nothing around him forcing him to stay hungry anymore.”

”A unification fight,” Sera says. ”Maybe that’s the only thing that can make him feel challenged again.”

Nakahara takes a seat and looks up at Sera, his expression turning serious.

”Forget about a unification fight. If he stays like this, I’m worried he won’t even be able to defend his title in his next fight.”