VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

A moment later, Aki’s gaze drifts toward Ryoma, who is still engrossed chatting with the sponsors at ringside.

Ever since Ryoma’s fight against Nikolai, Aki has been reluctant to approach him. She has even stubbornly refused her boss’s repeated demands to cover Ryoma and the Ronin gym, to the point that the company has even scrapped its plans for her promotion.

Aki also notices Reika sitting four seats away from Ryoma at ringside. Even with that distance between them, Reika’s discomfort is obvious, evident in the occasional glances she casts toward him.

”Hey, Aki,” Tanaka says, suddenly pulling her out of her thoughts. ”Don’t tell me you’re actually scared to approach Ryoma now because of that whole porn addiction thing?”

”What?” Aki turns to him, caught off guard.

”Come on, Aki,” Sato chimes in. ”You know Ryoma isn’t really like that. He was just making up a story to get his point across to the press. Nothing more. And you know him better than any of us. The guy’s always been good at stirring up controversy whenever he wants to sway public opinion.”

Aki forces a goofy expression onto her face. ”Of course I know that! But why the hell are you bringing up his porn addiction now? I don’t care if it was all made up. That kind of joke still makes me uncomfortable, you know?”

Still looking awkward, Aki turns her attention back to the fight, doing her best to put that stupid press conference out of her mind.

Back in the ring, the fight has reached the halfway point of Round Eight.

Ever since that knocked down, Callahan has desperately tried to escape Aramaki’s pursuit, buying time for his body to recover. But now, he has nothing left.

His footwork is gone, both arms feel unbearably heavy, and his eyelids droop from fatigue. Even his ring IQ has been worn down by the relentless pressure and constant threats Aramaki has thrown at him.

”Callahan’s legs are practically gone! He’s not circling anymore, he’s just trying to keep Aramaki from walking straight through him!”

”And that’s the problem! He’s being forced to fight at Aramaki’s pace, and every exchange is costing him more than it costs his opponent!”

”Wait, Callahan’s trying to turn him around… OH! THEY’RE TRADING AGAIN! Neither man wants to give an inch!”

”This is a terrible gamble for Callahan! He needs to slow this fight down, but Aramaki’s giving him absolutely no room to breathe!”

The only reason Callahan is still fighting is pride. His ego is too big to let him accept defeat at the hands of a mere national champion.

”Stay away, you bastard!”

He throws a few flicking jabs, but his movements are so sluggish that Aramaki easily dodges them and closes the distance before Callahan can even fully retract his arm.

And a lead hook buries deep into his stomach.

BUGH!

Unable to get away, Callahan lifts his lead elbow toward Aramaki’s chest to create some distance.

”Stay the fuck away from me!”

He follows up with a sharp right hook to the head.

Dsh!

”Woo... he’s still got something left!”

”He’s not done yet!”

The punch lands flush on Aramaki’s face.

But Aramaki keeps advancing, unleashing a series of short hooks with rapid rotation.

Dug. THUD!

Dug. Dug. BUGH! Dug. THUD!

The entire arena erupts, thousands of voices rising together in a deafening roar.

Even Ryoma has risen from his seat, cupping his hands around his mouth as he joins the crowd in cheering.

”Don’t let him breathe, Aramaki! Keep hitting him!”

Ryoma’s excited expression looks almost childlike, but from behind the red corner, Collins sees something cruel in it. It isn’t hard for him to remember how Ryoma beat Umemoto in their previous fight, nearly beating him to death.

Somehow, that same horror begins to haunt Collins, making him see Aramaki as just as vicious and merciless as Ryoma.

And just as dread spreads wildly along Collins’ backbone, Callahan desperately throws another coiling counter at Aramaki.

Aramaki sees it coming, but he doesn’t care, and simply forces himself swinging a heavy right hook upstairs.

Callahan’s glove reaches Aramaki’s face first, but…

BAM!!!

Aramaki’s hook slams into the side of Callahan’s head with far greater force.

”WOOO! THAT WAS NASTY!”

”HE CAUGHT HIM WITH THAT RIGHT! WHAT A SHOT!”

Still on his feet, Callahan leans against the ropes, still maintaining his Philly Shell.

But the referee immediately steps in, waving his arms to stop the fight.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

”That’s it! The fight is over!”

”Callahan’s still on his feet, but the referee is stopping the fight!”

Aramaki pauses for a moment, looking slightly bewildered by the sudden stoppage.

”What a performance from Aramaki! Callahan came into this fight with the reach, the technical skills, and the experience to make this a difficult night for the Japanese contender, but Aramaki dismantled him piece by piece!”

”An incredible statement from Aramaki tonight! This victory could change everything for him in the WBC rankings!”

At the mention of the WBC rankings, Aramaki quickly shakes off his confusion and rushes to a corner, climbing onto the ropes to celebrate his victory.

Callahan, already looking exhausted and completely spent, still refuses to accept the stoppage.

”Why? Why did you stop it? I can still fight!”

But the referee only shakes his head and steps away.

Callahan still follows him with his trembling legs, until his eyes finally land on the canvas, and Collins already walking toward him with unreadable face.

”Why did you throw in the towel?” Callahan demands, his voice trembling with disbelief and betrayal. ”Why...? I could still fight!”

Collins approaches without a word, his expression grave as he shakes his head.

”Why the hell did you throw in the towel?” Callahan demands.

”You’ve done, Marcus.” Collins stops in front of him. ”You had nothing left to turn this fight around. And for what? A ranking bout? There’s no point risking your life here just to prove you could stay on your feet.”

He pauses, letting his gaze travel over Callahan’s battered body.

”Look at yourself.”

Then Collins tilts his head toward the opposite corner.

”And look at him.”

Callahan follows his gaze toward one of the neutral corners, where Aramaki is still standing on the ropes.

Aramaki soon hops down and runs to the opposite corner, climbing onto the ropes again to celebrate with the crowd and thank his supporters as though he has barely broken a sweat.

His supporters beam with joy, showering him with cheers as they chant his name.

”Who can stop you now, champ?!”

”That’s what a real champion looks like!”

”Aramaki! You’re a monster!”

”Nobody can stand against you!”

With Aramaki still looking energetic like that, Callahan finally falls silent, unable to protest Collins’s decision any further.

***

At ringside, Ryoma is caught up in the celebration alongside the sponsors seated around him, sharing their excitement as they cheer Aramaki’s victory. He can barely contain his own joy.

Once he is done celebrating with them, Ryoma rushes into the ring, practically bursting with excitement.

Aramaki spots him and immediately hops down from the ropes, landing lightly before sprinting toward him.

”Did you see how he reacted to all my feints? He was practically biting on every single one!”

Ryoma laughs, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder. ”And that’s exactly why we spent so much time working on them!”

A moment later, the Ronin boxers also come running down the aisle and climb into the ring, joining the two in their jubilant celebration as if Aramaki had just won a world title.

”What a night for Ronin!” one commentator exclaims. ”Another victory in front of a packed house! Just look at how happy they are!”

”Sure, this was only a WBC ranking bout,” the other adds, ”but anyone who knows what this team has been through will understand why they have every reason to celebrate every victory, no matter how small!”

Amid the celebration, however, Nakahara finds himself watching Ryoma rather than the fighters jumping around him.

There is nothing wrong with seeing Ryoma this happy. Yet Nakahara can’t quite shake the strange feeling stirring in his chest.

This was the same man who had remained remarkably composed when he took the WBO title from Miguel Cabello.

Nakahara still remembers how calmly Ryoma had carried himself back then, as if becoming a world champion were simply another task he had set out to accomplish.

But now, it’s Aramaki who won the fight. And it’s just a WBO ranking bout. But Ryoma looks as though he is experiencing the greatest moment of his life.

Nakahara keeps watching him, unsure whether to feel relieved by Ryoma’s unrestrained joy or unsettled by what it might mean.

Then a few people shout from the spectator stand, snapping Nakahara out of his reveries.

”Now go after that world title, Aramaki!”

”You can do it!”

”Yeah! Ronin’s going to have two world champions!”

The Ronin fighters and staff turn toward the stands as more supporters call out to them.

”Ryoma! Don’t leave Aramaki behind!”

”Don’t hog all the glory for yourself, Ryoma!”

”Yeah! Help him get that belt, too!”

Ryoma throws a fist into the air, grinning at the crowd. ”I’ll take everyone here to the summit! So make sure you’re all there when we reach it!”

The crowd erupts in even louder cheers, and the two champions jump along with them, swept up in the celebration.