VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Those final words are enough to change Logan’s expression.

He can understand calling Ryoma a psychopath. In fact, Logan knows that people like them are often seen that way by ordinary people who have no understanding of their circumstances. He has no particular objection to such a judgment.

But the accusation that Ryoma is a murderer is far too serious to dismiss.

”A murderer...?” Logan mutters, struggling to accept the words.

His gaze briefly shifts aside before returning to his daughter.

”Is this about what he did to Umemoto?” he asks. ”You should know that wasn’t his fault. Ryoma is a world champion. You can’t expect him to show mercy to his opponent on a stage that big.”

”It’s not just about Umemoto,” Reika replies. ”His madness goes beyond that. It’s not confined to the ring.”

Logan’s eyes narrow. ”What else, then? His controversial image? Everything the media has been reporting? Is that what makes you afraid of him? Reika… if all the pressure and madness he goes through to succeed are enough to frighten you, perhaps you should be afraid of being around your own father, too.”

”Yes, I am!” Reika snaps. ”My legs are trembling with fear right now. And you’re right. You and him are both just as insane.”

She abruptly pushes away from her desk, scraping her chair across the floor so violently that it crashes into the wall behind her.

”You don’t even care about my safety!” she continues, heading for the door. ”All you care about is your precious asset. You’re afraid of losing a business opportunity, not because you care what happens to me!”

”And who do you think I’m doing all this for?” Logan shouts.

Reika doesn’t turn around or slow her steps.

She could tell him about Hayashida Muneyaki’s death. But she has no real evidence that Ryoma is the one who killed him. All she has is fear.

And Logan mistakes her silence for an insult to everything he has sacrificed for his family.

”I’m a father and a husband!” he continues, hurrying after her. ”I’m a man. And a man will do whatever it takes for his family. We’re not criminals. But a man can become a devil himself to protect the people he loves!”

Reika says nothing. She opens the door and continues down the corridor toward the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor.

”You should be able to see it for yourself!” Logan calls after her from the doorway, no longer following. ”You should look at what Ryoma Takeda has done for the people closest to him. The risks he’s willing to take to fight for their futures!”

Reika wants none of his arguments. But with the elevator refusing to arrive, she has no choice but to stand there and listen to her father’s lecture.

”That’s what I see in him, Reika!” Logan continues. ”Not just an asset. I see a man who will protect my daughter when I can no longer do it myself.”

The elevator doors finally open. Reika steps inside and immediately presses the button to close them, still refusing to acknowledge him.

But once the doors shut and she is left alone, Logan’s words continue to echo in her mind.

And Reika cannot entirely deny them. For all the madness she has witnessed in Ryoma, she knows how deeply he cares about the people around him.

Part of her wants to be one of those people. Yet she cannot fully shake her fear.

Because if Ryoma never comes to see her as someone worth protecting, then to her, he may become nothing more than a monster.

***

In boxing, not every story the media tells is meant to report the truth.

Sometimes, it is a ploy to lure a reluctant opponent into accepting a fight. Sometimes, it is a way to pile pressure on a champion until he has no choice but to respond. And sometimes, it is about getting inside an opponent’s head long before the opening bell.

The most effective mind games are the ones the opponent never realizes he has fallen for. And Ryoma understands this better than most.

His proposal for a third Tokyo Dome World Championship Carnival may appear to be nothing more than an ambitious business move. But the idea serves another purpose.

Without anyone realizing it, Ryoma has begun his own mind game. And the target is none other than Kenta’s upcoming opponent, Declan ”The Wolf” Byrne.

”They haven’t even beaten me yet,” Declan mutters, his face sour as he reads the news on the phone. ”And they’re already lining up a fight with Vargas as if I’m not even in the fucking picture.”

By now, Declan and his team have arrived in Tokyo for the upcoming Final Title Eliminator.

With the news spreading throughout the boxing world, it doesn’t take long for the report to reach them.

”Now you see why I’m so bloody wound up about this?” the assistant coach says. ”You’re a two-time world champion, for Christ’s sake! Everyone knows what you’ve achieved, and those bastards can’t even show you the slightest bit of respect.”

Head coach Evan Redmond walks over and takes the phone, handing it back to the assistant coach.

”That’s enough,” he says.

His expression is cold. He remains composed, but the anger beneath that calm is far greater. He walks over to the heavy bag, then turns toward Declan, gripping it with one hand.

”Just a bit of success, and they start thinking they own the bloody world. That’s quite enough of that. Now it’s our job to remind them what the real world looks like.”

He slaps the heavy bag once. ”Put your gloves on and get back to work. Words alone won’t teach those bastards a thing.”

Declan says nothing as he pulls on his boxing gloves, his expression hardening into a cold, furious scowl.

His wounded pride burns behind his eyes, but he keeps it buried beneath an intense, unwavering focus as he approaches the heavy bag.

The moment Evan Redmond braces himself behind it, Declan unleashes a vicious right hand.

THUD!

The impact snaps the bag backward against Redmond’s grip.

Declan follows with a left hook that twists the bag sideways, then a straight right that lands with a heavy, meaty crack.

”He’s nothing but meat waiting to be pounded!” Redmond shouts, hauling the bag back into position.

Declan fires a brutal one-two, then buries a hook into the bag’s midsection. The force nearly wrenches it from Redmond’s hands.

”Keep hitting him like that, and he’ll have no idea what the hell hit him!”

BAM!

BAM! BAM! BAM!!

”Good technique, but he’s slow, and he doesn’t move enough!” Redmond continues. ”Kenta likes to plant his feet in the middle of the ring. He’ll stand there thinking he can trade with you, and that’s when you make him pay!”

Thud-thud!

BAM!!

Declan’s right hook slams into the bag, sending it swinging hard enough to force Redmond to readjust his footing.

”Don’t you dare play games with him! You’re a former champion, Declan, and he needs to feel that from the first bloody round! Don’t give him time to settle in, don’t let him find his rhythm, and don’t let him turn this into the kind of fight he wants!”

Declan answers with another savage combination, his gloves pounding the leather in rapid succession.

His face remains twisted with silent fury, every punch carrying the weight of an insult he intends to repay in the ring.

They have studied every one of Kenta Moriyama’s fights, paying particular attention to the rapid progress he has made over the past two years.

His lazy pendulum footwork. His step-back counters. His habit of absorbing punches to lure opponents into trading with him in the pocket. They have dissected every aspect of Kenta’s game.

And for a former champion who has spent years competing at the highest level, none of Kenta’s techniques are particularly complicated to deal with.

To Declan, Kenta Moriyama is nothing more than an irritating obligation imposed by the WBO under the guise of a Final Title Eliminator. His real target has always been Rafael Vargas, the man who took his championship belt from him a year and a half ago.

A rematch against Vargas is what Declan wants, and nothing else matters.

But Ronin’s treatment of him has struck a nerve, wounding his pride in a way that no amount of fight analysis can explain away.