VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

As Aramaki makes his way to the neutral corner and the referee begins the count, Callahan already pushes himself back to his feet.

But his legs are trembling. His head still feels heavy and dizzy, and the pain around his diaphragm has yet to subside.

With the referee continuing the count, Callahan focuses on little more than steadying his breathing.

”Five.”

”Six.”

”Seven.”

When the referee reaches eight, he pauses and approaches Callahan, raising both gloves in front of him.

”Are you good to go?”

Still struggling with the dizziness, Callahan nods.

Satisfied with the response, the referee steps back and signals for the fight to resume.

”Box!”

Korakuen Hall erupts once more, Aramaki’s supporters roaring for their champion to finish the job.

”Come on, Aramaki! Finish him!”

”He’s hurt! Put him away!”

”End it here! Show him the power of a Japanese champion!”

But there isn’t much time left in the round. Callahan retreats into his Philly Shell once more, deliberately staying near the ropes so he can use them to help keep his balance.

Aramaki unleashes an unrelenting assault, making no particular effort to pick his target exclusively. He simply hammers away at whatever opening presents itself, though most of his attention remains on Callahan’s midsection and left ribs.

Dug. DUGH. BUGH!

Dug. BUGH! THUD! Dug.

Yet even with several hooks slip through, thudding against Callahan’s chest and abdomen, he still manages to endure the barrage until the bell rings.

Ding!

”And there goes the bell! Callahan survives the round, but what a disastrous finish for the American!”

”Absolutely! Aramaki dropped him with that devastating combination, and even after Callahan got back to his feet, he barely had time to recover before the Japanese champion went straight back to work!”

At last, the Continental Americas Champion makes it back to his stool, where his team immediately gets to work, doing everything they can to prepare him for the next round.

But physical recovery is only part of the job. Collins is just as busy trying to put Callahan’s head back in the right place, addressing everything that has gone wrong with his approach to the fight.

”I did tell you not to be a coward,” Collins scolds him. ”And what did you do? You get reckless the second you think you’ve got him figured out. Use your fucking head, Marcus! You had him right where you wanted him, and instead of sticking to your game, you stood toe-to-toe with the one guy in this fight you absolutely do not want to trade with!”

”I was setting him up,” Callahan mutters, looking irritated but too exhausted to put up much of an argument.

”Setting him up? By standing right in front of him and trading shots? What the hell kind of setup is that?” Collins shoots back. ”Don’t pull that shit again. Keep moving. Use your feet, get off the line, and make him work to catch you. You wanna set a trap? Then bait him into overcommitting and make him pay for it. Don’t walk into his fucking wheelhouse and expect things to go your way.”

Collins’s instructions leave little room for misunderstanding. And during the break, Callahan’s team manages to get his legs working again, enough for Callahan to keep relying on his nimble footwork.

In the sixth round, Callahan follows Collins’s instructions to the letter. He makes full use of his reach while keeps moving in the perimeter, always angling away from Aramaki’s line of attack.

Yet there is one thing his team has failed to fix: the fear Aramaki has already planted deep inside him.

While Aramaki calmly follows him behind his high guard, Callahan looks comfortable controlling the fight.

But the moment Aramaki lowers his gloves and makes his advance more dynamic with subtle pendulum steps, upper-body sways, and changes in level, Callahan’s reactions become obvious.

Even before Aramaki throws a punch, Callahan is already responding to the threat.

Aramaki’s eyes sharpen as he notices that reaction.

”I can do this...”

And so, Aramaki begins varying his movements even more.

He throws a few probing jabs despite still being outside his ideal range.

Then he slides his lead foot forward and launches an overhand right, only to halt mid-motion and dip his stance.

Callahan immediately moves to the side. But Aramaki has already cut off the space, taking a wide step forward as he drops his lead glove.

He resumes his feints, advancing with staggered steps behind a few compact punches.

When Callahan angles out with a much wider side step, Aramaki surges forward with two straight punches toward the body before the American can complete his transition.

Thud! Dug.

Still staggering, Callahan angles out, but Aramaki follows with two more hooks.

Dug. Dug.

Callahan angles out once more. And Aramaki cuts the space again before sending three punches combination.

Dug. Dug. Thud!

Throughout the round, Callahan desperately tries to stay away, but never gets a chance to catch his breath.

Whenever he forces himself to counter and disrupt Aramaki’s pressure, the Japanese champion simply turns it into an exchange.

Dsh!

BUGH!

”Oh! Callahan sets up a beautiful counter!

”But Aramaki meets him head-on! What an exchange!”

Callahan angles out again with another wide step. But before he can settle back into his stance, another hook crashes into his body.

THUD!

”Callahan just can’t get away! Every time he tries to escape, Aramaki is right there on his heels!”

”And he’s not giving him a second to breathe! Look at that relentless pursuit! Callahan is running out of room, running out of time, and Aramaki just keeps coming!”

Regardless of the difference in ring IQ between two fighters, once fear and panic take over, even the sharpest mind can turn stupid.

That is exactly what is happening to Marcus Callahan. He desperately needs a break, some room to regain his composure and a moment to clear his head and think.

But Aramaki gives him no such luxury. Keeping his head cool, he continues the hunt, his hands constantly moving as he mixes unpredictable short punches with feints and exaggerated hesitation movements.

Around the arena, several local journalists who have followed Aramaki’s career for years exchange uneasy glances.

They have thought they know where his limits lie. Yet the fight unfolding before them is beginning to challenge everything they think they know about him.

”Man...” Sato exhales, his face clouded with exhaustion. ”Just watching this is wearing me out.”

Then he chuckles before glancing at Tanaka sitting beside him. ”And here I thought it was too soon for him to challenge the world.”

Tanaka nods. ”I always believed he was the kind of fighter who relied on nothing but grit and determination. Not that I’m belittling him. In fact, I’ve always admired that fighting spirit. But I never imagined he could go toe-to-toe with an elite fighter as tactically sharp as Marcus Callahan.”

Sitting beside Tanaka, Aki struggles to make sense of what she is seeing in the ring.

”What exactly is different about Aramaki now?” she asks. ”From what I can see, his fighting style hasn’t changed at all. Could it be that his opponent just isn’t at his best tonight?”

”Nope,” Sato replies. ”Callahan clearly looked great in the early rounds. The real issue is what Aramaki has done to him. To you, Aramaki might still look like the same old Aramaki. And indeed, they never really changed who he is as a person and as a fighter.”

”Then what has changed?” Aki asks.

Tanaka blinks in mild confusion. ”Well, I was expecting you to give us the inside scoop.”

”Why me?” Aki shoots back.

”Because you’re the only journalist who can waltz into the Ronin’s building whenever you feel like it,” Sato replies.

Aki simply shakes her head, looking thoughtful.

”It’s been months since I’ve visited that gym.”