VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

The following afternoon, a black Toyota Alphard leaves Tokyo, heading northeast along the Joban Expressway toward Ibaraki Prefecture.

Inside, Ryoma sits in the passenger seat while Hayakawa, his personal driver and bodyguard, keeps his eyes on the road.

”NSN’s headquarters is in Tokyo, isn’t it?” Hayakawa asks.

”Yes,” Ryoma replies briefly.

”Then I assume Mr. Rhodes and his daughter have residences somewhere around Tokyo as well.”

Ryoma simply nods.

”Then why are we going all the way to Mito for this meeting?”

Ryoma lets out a quiet sigh before answering. ”Logan has just learned that we’re unhappy with how they’ve handled our proposal. He knows we have every reason to walk away, but he also knows that both sides stand to gain something from this deal. By choosing a location outside Tokyo, he can make us demonstrate how seriously we’re taking the meeting.”

Hayakawa glances at him briefly. ”You mean he wants to see whether you’re willing to travel all this way just to talk to him?”

”Something like that. If I agree to come, he can take it as a sign that I still want to do business with them. That would give him some reassurance that we’re not ready to abandon the deal just yet.”

Hayakawa shakes his head, still looking somewhat dissatisfied. ”Businessmen really do make things unnecessarily complicated.”

Ryoma shrugs slightly but offers no response.

”Still, aren’t we leaving a little too early?” Hayakawa adds. ”It only takes about an hour and a half to reach Mito. The meeting isn’t until evening, is it?”

Ryoma nods. ”I want you to take me to Isohara first.”

”Isohara?” Hayakawa asks, puzzled. ”What do you need to do there?”

”I want to visit my father.”

Hayakawa blinks. For a moment, he says nothing, his attention fixed on the road ahead.

He has known Ryoma and his mother for quite a while, and he considers himself familiar with their family circumstances. Yet this is the first time he has ever heard Ryoma mention his father.

His first thought is that the father must still be alive somewhere, perhaps having separated from the family long ago.

The truth is that Ryoma is simply making time to visit the Great East Japan Earthquake Memorial Monument on the northern coast of Ibaraki, Isohara.

His father was one of the victims of the March 2011 earthquake and tsunami. His body was never recovered, leaving Ryoma with no grave to visit.

He has never visited the memorial with his mother, who developed serious psychological problems after losing her husband.

But when Kaede was still by his side, they used to visit the memorial together every year, since her parents had also died in the same disaster.

Since Kaede left his life, Ryoma had stopped visiting the memorial.

”It’s been more than two years since I last came here,” Ryoma says.

Standing beside the car, he surveys the park with a bouquet of flowers in one hand. The layout remains familiar, but his sharp eyes pick out countless small changes: the trees have grown taller, the pathways show signs of wear, and parts of the memorial have weathered with time.

Hayakawa stands on the opposite side of the car, now understanding what Ryoma meant by visiting his father without needing to ask.

Even from where he stands, he can clearly see the change in Ryoma’s expression as Ryoma gazes toward the memorial in the distance.

There is a heaviness in the air, as though Ryoma needs time to prepare himself just to approach the memorial. Eventually, he begins to walk, but with every step, the emotional weight grows harder to bear.

If there is anyone whose recognition Ryoma has always wanted, it is his father’s. He wants to show him how much he has changed, that he is no longer a crybaby or a weakling. That he has taken care of his mother and given her a far better life.

He has everything to boast about now. Yet that only makes the ache in his chest harder to bear. For all his achievements, his father is no longer here to witness any of them.

As the memorial draws closer, Ryoma notices a man standing before it, his head bowed. Ryoma’s steps falter, and his eyes narrow slightly.

For some reason, the man’s build and clothing strike him as strangely familiar, even though all he can see is his back.

Ryoma glances around before continuing toward the memorial, keeping the man under observation.

When he finally arrives, he stops a short distance behind him and waits. The man remains motionless for quite some time, his hands still pressed together.

Eventually, Ryoma sets aside his curiosity and steps forward. As he bends down to place the flowers before the monument, the man suddenly speaks.

”So you finally came, huh?” His voice carries a faint note of scorn.

Ryoma freezes. He knows that voice. The realization even sends a chill down his spine.

”I thought that after becoming a world champion,” the man continues, ”you’d consider yourself too important to come visit me anymore.”

Ryoma slowly straightens and turns toward him. To his astonishment, his father stands before him, casting him a cold sidelong glance.

”D-dad…”

Ryoma can only stare at him.

For a fleeting moment, he wonders if he has finally lost his mind.

The man before him cannot possibly be real. He knows that. He has known it for years.

And yet, there is his father, looking at him as though nothing has happened, as though Ryoma has simply kept him waiting for a little too long.

”Why…” His voice falters.

He tries to speak again, but the word dies in his throat. His father’s cold gaze leaves him unable to look away.

Ryoma wants to move, to demand an explanation, to reach out and prove that this is real. Instead, he stands there, caught between the desperate hope that he is seeing his father again and the terror of what that could mean.

The man finally turns to face him, his eyes lingering on Ryoma with an expression of cold disappointment.

”Look at you. You can barely stand to look at me.” His lips curl faintly. ”Tell me, Ryoma. What are you so afraid of?”

Ryoma tries to speak, but his throat refuses to cooperate. He can only stare, his breath coming in shallow, uneven pulls.

”Tell me, do you still hide in the corner of your room and cry?” his father asks, his tone laced with contempt. ”Like you did every time those boys at school made you feel small? Or when you couldn’t bring yourself to decide whether to forgive them or make them pay?”

Ryoma wants to refute every accusation. If there has ever been a moment to tell his father everything he has achieved, this is it.

Yet when he opens his mouth, his lips only tremble. Cold sweat runs down his face, and tears begin to gather in his eyes, blurring the figure before him.

His father shakes his head, dismissing Ryoma with a look of disappointment.

”Some things never change, do they?”

He then glances toward the Alphard parked farther away, where Hayakawa remains patiently by the car.

”You even brought a bodyguard just to see me. Have you grown so much of a coward that you can’t face your own father alone?”