VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

And the crowd feels it too. The cheers die into a murmur, then into silence. A few voices break out, pleading.

“Stop the fight…”

“Someone, stop this…”

In the stands, Kaede clutches the edge of the chair, her chest tight. She remembers Ryoma’s words before this night, how he didn’t want her to come, how he didn’t want her to see this side of him.

But now she sees it. And it terrifies her.

Her voice breaks free, weak in fear.

“Enough…”

Beside her, Aemi goes still. The fear on Kaede’s face cuts into her. She feels a pang of sympathy as she realizes Kaede isn’t just afraid of Ryoma hurting Kanzaki. She’s afraid of losing the boy she loves to something darker, something she may not be able to accept.

Kaede’s throat burns, trembling with desperation.

“Ryoma! That’s enough!”

Her plea cuts through the roar, but it drowns almost instantly in the crowd’s frenzy. Unlike her, there are people relishing the moment, leaning forward, voices sharp with delight as Ryoma humiliates his opponent.

Among them is Reika. Her face twitches at every landed punch, the mask of composure straining. She tries to bury the small flicker of excitement, but the two journalists beside her don’t miss it.

Tanaka leans closer to Aki, speaking low but urgent, his eyes never leaving the ring.

“Tell me you’ve ever seen him like this.”

Aki shakes her head slowly. “Never. Not in any of his fights. Not even sparring. He’s… different tonight.”

Tanaka exhales through his teeth. “The weigh-in… that little flare-up between them. It wasn’t just hype, was it?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Aki mutters, arms folded tight. “Feels like something old. Something that didn’t get buried.”

Tanaka’s eyes narrow as another jab lands. “Unfinished business. That’s the only way this makes sense.”

Aki doesn’t answer at first. She watches the ring, the ugly persistence of Ryoma’s assault, his opponent barely holding on. Finally, she mutters, almost to himself.

“I get it. But still…” She grimaces. “This is too much. Unnecessary. He should’ve ended it already.”

Reika snorts softly, her eyes bright, voice laced with a thrill she doesn’t bother to hide anymore.

“Unnecessary? Please. This is boxing. People don’t come here for polite bows and clean finishes. They come to see a man humiliate another man. That’s what sells tickets.”

Aki turns to her, frowning. “There’s a difference between winning and dragging it out.”

Reika shrugs, the corner of her mouth curling. “Not in the crowd’s eyes. Right now, Ryoma’s giving them exactly what they paid for.”

She isn’t entirely wrong. There are people who laugh at the pathetic looks in Kanzaki. But there are still a few of them expressing a chorus of begging.

But Ryoma doesn’t hear them. His focus is locked on Kanzaki.

Dsh! Dsh! Dsh!

“Who’s soft now?!”

Dsh!

“Say it! Say it!!”

Dsh, dsh, thud, dsh!!!

“Tell me, Kanzaki! Who’s the boy you called soft?”

Kanzaki has no words left. His face is swollen, nearly unrecognizable, yet he keeps pressing forward, walking straight into Ryoma’s jabs, each one snapping his head but never halting his steps.

Then suddenly…

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Gasps ripple through the arena. The bell shouldn’t have rung yet.

Confusion flashes until the referee snatches Kanzaki’s wrist and waves his arm high. Tsuchida’s towel lies sprawled across the canvas.

Ryoma finally stops the torment. He steps right into Kanzaki’s face, throws his arms up high, chest heaving, sweat dripping.

“Who’s soft now, Kanzaki?!” he roars, spit flying. “Say it! You called me weak… look at you now! Who’s soft?”

Kanzaki still can’t say a word. The man who once sneered down at Ryoma stands hollow. He looks so broken, his arms sag to his sides. His body is battered, his pride shattered.

Nakahara climbs through the ropes, seizing Ryoma’s arm, dragging him back. But Ryoma twists, shouting over his shoulder, words like daggers.

“Tell me, Kanzaki! Do you still have the nerve to step into a ring after this?!”

Kanzaki doesn’t respond. He just stands there, wasted, broken, and silent. Tsuchida drapes an arm around his boxer and guides him back. And Kanzaki just follows without resistance, like a broken doll.

***

Most fighters would rage at their corner for throwing in the towel while they were still on their feet. But Kanzaki doesn’t rage. He doesn’t even sigh. He just sits slumped on the stool, staring at the canvas.

Tsuchida studies him with a hollow ache in his chest. There’s no fire left, no hatred, no pride. Kanzaki’s eyes are flat, his spirit stripped clean. For the first time, Tsuchida doubts if his fighter will ever set foot in the ring again.

Across the ring, Ryoma stands with dignity, his chest heaves with breath, but there’s no relief in his expression, only satisfaction. He didn’t just win. He made Kanzaki break. The boy once called soft had shattered the man who mocked him.

Nakahara watches from the corner of his eye, and unease settles in his gut. Victory tonight isn’t the kind to celebrate. Ryoma fought not only to win, but to humiliate fellow professional. That thrill in his smirk, it’s what worries him most.

The commentators fumble over their words, voices uneasy.

“That wasn’t just boxing we saw.”

“No, that was something else. Something personal. And I don’t think the crowd knows how to feel about it.”

The announcer’s voice slices through the chaos, declaring the result over the roar of the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the winner by technical knockout, at one minute, twenty six seconds of the fourth round… Ryoooma Takedaaa!”

The arena cheers, and Ryoma raises his hand high, answering the eruption with a smirk carved deep into his face.

It follows him as Ryoma finally makes his way down the aisle, the sound swelling like thunder.

“That’s the rookie king! That’s domination!”

“He broke him! He broke him!!”

“Unreal! That was pure destruction!”

The eruption refuses to die down, the Korakuen shaking with thunder. And above it, the broadcast voices rise, cutting sharp through the storm.

“What a night at Korakuen Hall! This crowd has been on its feet since the opening bell.”

“We came for the Rookie King, but what we witnessed tonight was something else entirely.”

“The cheers say it all… the birth of a new hero. Not the smiling, gentle kind, but the kind who breaks his enemies and leaves nothing standing.”

“Korakuen has seen legends rise and fall, but tonight it witnessed something raw, something terrifying. A star is born, and he’s not here to be loved. He’s here to rule.”

The spotlight follows Ryoma, the roar mirrors his own satisfaction. The glory, the power, the vindication of years of contempt boiled away.

Kanzaki is broken, and Ryoma stands above him. This is what he wanted. This is what he earned.

But then, his steps falter. Among the blur of cheering faces, one catches him, and the hard-earned satisfaction slips from his expression like sand through fingers.

“Kaede…?”

Ryoma freezes, his breath catching. He told her not to come, but here she is, staring at him with icy gaze.

She isn’t smiling. Her face is pale, her eyes shadowed with something between sorrow and fear.

And from her face, Ryoma understands. She saw a side of him she didn’t like to see.