VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Kaede doesn’t stare for long. Her eyes flinch away, and Ryoma’s view of her disappears behind the wall of fans stretching their arms toward him, cheering with wild glee.

He lowers his head and keeps walking down the aisle, but the look of triumph is gone. His steps are heavy, his shoulders stiff, not a victor’s stride, but a man haunted.

High above, in the upper stands, Aramaki leans against the railing. A small, tired smile rests on his lips. Relief washes through him, relief that Ryoma pulled through, that even with one hand, he still found a way to win.

But beside him, Noguchi’s face twists with something else. He grins, but it’s not joy. It’s raw, predatory, like a beast catching the scent of prey.

“Humiliating, wasn’t it?” Noguchi mutters under his breath, eyes locked on the other isle as Kanzaki stride with fallen shoulders. “Dragging him through the mud like that… I can feel it in my bones.”

He bares his teeth, the grin widening.

“That’s the kind of victory I want. And when it’s you in there, Ryomaaa…” His voice is low, almost trembling with excitement. “…I’ll do you worse. Much worse.”

Aramaki hears the words. He glances sideways at Noguchi, expression flat, no reaction beyond a blink. Then he exhales, turns, and walks away without saying anything more. Noguchi’s grin lingers, wild and unbroken.

***

The locker room for the red corner is quiet. Only Ryoma, Hiroshi, and Nakahara remain. Rikuya Senda and his team have left the building much earlier.

Ryoma sits on the bench, slouched, his gaze empty. Hiroshi kneels in front of him, carefully unwinding the tape from his right hand.

“I still can’t believe it,” Hiroshi says, smiling from ear to ear. “You beat him with just your left. Do you realize what this means? Your potential, your future… the name you’ll bring to our gym!”

His hands tremble with excitement as he peels away the last strip. He glances at Ryoma’s knuckles, relieved.

“And the injury… it doesn’t look worse. Maybe a week, and you’ll be able to use your right again.”

But his words trail off, because Ryoma suddenly rises to his feet, slipping into his jacket.

“H-hey…?” Hiroshi blinks, startled.

Nakahara looks up from the corner, eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong?”

Ryoma doesn’t answer. He rummages through his bag, pulls out a black mask, and slips it over his face. Then, without a word, he heads for the door.

“Ryoma!” Hiroshi shouts, scrambling after him. “Where are you going?!”

The door bangs shut, leaving Nakahara staring, silent, arms folded.

Outside, the corridor hums with reporters and staff. Ryoma pushes through, walks past Aki and Reika, both are on their way to his locker room.

They don’t recognize him, because the mask hides his face, at least until Hiroshi barrels past, shouting his name.

“Ryoma! Wait!”

Reika’s eyes widen. She spins around, watching Ryoma vanish into the crowd.

“Wait… that was him?”

Aki frowns, lips pressed tight. “Yeah. He left, and didn’t want to be seen.”

***

Outside Korakuen Hall, the air is thick with smoke, food stalls, and the chatter of fans pouring out of the venue. Hiroshi lingers near the entrance, scanning every direction, frustration tightening his face.

But Ryoma is already moving elsewhere. His steps are fast, almost frantic. His eyes dart through the crowd, his Vision Grid flickering faintly, locking onto every face he sees, one after another, searching.

Until…

There, even from behind, he recognizes her. Kaede, walking beside Aemi, leaving the hall.

“Kaede!” Ryoma calls out, voice sharp, urgent.

Both girls turn.

Ryoma yanks off his mask, his face laid bare. Sweat-streaked, tired, but more than that, it’s etched with regret.

Kaede’s eyes soften as she sees him. He doesn’t speak; he doesn’t need to. The guilt is written all over him, the silent plea trembling in his gaze.

And Kaede answers with a gentle smile. A smile calm, forgiving, soft enough to cut through the storm in his chest. A smile that feels like home.

Kaede steps closer, her voice gentle, no trace of anger in it.

“Congratulations. You finally proved yourself… to Kanzaki.”

Her words carry no edge, only warmth.

Beside her, Aemi beams at Ryoma, her tone brighter, full of cheer.

“And only one more win before the final! You’re almost there, Ryoma!”

But Ryoma doesn’t mirror her excitement. His shoulders remain heavy, his eyes dimmed with guilt. He looks straight at Kaede, his voice low.

“I told you not to come.”

Kaede doesn’t flinch. Instead, she answers softly. “And yet I came. Because I wanted to see with my own eyes… The boy I once found crying has grown into a man strong enough to stand tall.”

Her words hit deep, pulling Ryoma back across years of struggle, back to the memory of who he once was.

Even so, he shakes his head, guilt heavy in his chest.

“I’m sorry… for letting you see that side of me.”

Kaede pauses, her gaze drifting away as though weighing her own heart. When she speaks again, her voice is steady, though touched with quiet regret.

“I understand. I know what’s been between you and Kanzaki. And maybe… maybe I even had a hand in it.”

She looks back at him, her eyes clear and resolute.

“I know why he hated you. I know what started it. But Ryoma…” Her voice softens, yet her words cut deep. “Don’t forget the first reason you wanted to become strong.”

The silence that follows seems to stretch, Ryoma’s breath catching as Kaede’s words echo through him, dragging him back to the very root of his journey.

Just then, Hiroshi comes rushing up, worry etched on his face. Kaede sees him, and with quiet understanding, she bows lightly toward him.

“Please, Hiroshi-san… take care of him.”

Then she turns back to Ryoma, her voice soft but final.

“Jaa ne, Ryoma.”

Aemi dips her head politely. “See you.”

The two girls step away, swallowed by the sea of people outside the hall. Ryoma watches until they vanish into the crowd, his hand limp at his side, his chest tight.

At last, he pulls his mask back on and turns toward Hiroshi. The guilt still weighs on him, but Kaede’s words linger stronger than the noise of the night.

Farther back in the crowd, Reika has been watching, her face dark. Her lips press tight, eyes narrowing as if this was the chance she’d been waiting for.

Finally, she starts forward. But Aki’s hand grips her arm, stopping her.

“Not now,” Aki says firmly. “He doesn’t want interviews tonight. Respect his privacy.”

Reika shoots her a sharp glare, but Aki doesn’t let go. Her hand clamps tighter on Reika’s arm, forcing her back through the crowd.