VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Aki glances at Reika, who’s watching Hiroyuki again through the open door. Her expression stays calm, but her thoughts are already running far ahead. Seeing Hiroyuki now reminds Reika of Tōru Kanzaki, the same finesse, the same rhythm. And the thing is, Ryoma had beaten Kanzaki using only his left hand.

Aki sees the similarity too, but Hiroyuki isn’t Kanzaki. And she is not as amateur as Reika in judging a boxer’s chance in a fight. Hiroyuki’s build is different from Ryoma, though only slightly. He’s a bit shorter, and that’s where the real issue lies.

She doubts he’ll struggle with the weight limit. Ryoma, on the other hand, always pushes the edge. His stamina dips after every brutal weight cut. So far, he’s only fought four-rounders, and by the fourth, he’s always near empty. But the All-Japan Rookie King Final is six rounds.

“Six long rounds…?” Aki murmurs.

Against a fighter with similar footwork, it’ll be exactly what Sugimoto said, a drawn-out, exhausting war. And Aki knows he said it with intent.

“So, you noticed your opponent always slows in the later rounds?” she asks.

Sugimoto exhales through his nose, weary but sharp. “I’ve studied that kid. Even went back to his amateur fights. He’s grown too much, too fast. But he’s not built for Super Featherweight. Whoever’s managing him is torturing the boy keeping him there.”

Aki tilts her head. “Then you think your fighter has a chance?”

Sugimoto gives a small shrug. “The weight limit does favor us. But we’re not chasing victory. For us, it’s growth. Win or lose, nothing changes. Still… I can’t wait to see how that kid fights once he moves up class. That’ll be something.”

As Aki watches Hiroyuki through the office window again, now she knows what matters lies underneath; the fighter’s personality, his mental strength, his mindset. And maybe the only way to see it is to talk to him directly.

So she glances at Sugimoto. “Mind if I have a word with him? Just a short chat.”

Sugimoto looks up from his mug, thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “Sure. He’s almost done with his rounds anyway.”

He steps out of the office, calls Hiroyuki’s name, and gestures toward them. The young fighter looks surprised at first, wiping sweat from his forehead with a towel, then nods and jogs over.

When he enters the office, he bows politely. “Good day. Sorry for the sweat.”

Aki smiles, standing to greet him. “Don’t worry about that. You look like you were in the zone.”

Hiroyuki gives a shy laugh as he takes a seat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Trying to be. Coach says I need to make every move count.”

“Looks like it’s working,” Aki says. “You’ve got a calm rhythm. Watching you train, it almost feels quiet, even when it’s not.”

Hiroyuki blinks, unsure how to respond at first. “Ah… maybe because I don’t like rushing. When I get tense, my timing falls apart. So I just focus on staying steady.”

Reika, who’s been watching quietly, smiles. “You sound very composed for someone your age.”

He chuckles softly. “Not really. I still get nervous before every session. But once I start moving, it feels like… the thoughts disappear. And I like that feeling.”

Aki tilts her head. “So you never think about the win?”

Hiroyuki shakes his head. “I mean, I want to win. Everyone does. But more than that, I just want to see how far I can go before I hit my limit. That’s enough for me.”

Sugimoto folds his arms, nodding with quiet pride. “Told you he’s not the type to talk big.”

Aki grins. “That’s rare these days. Most rookies already think about titles or fame.”

Hiroyuki shrugs, smiling faintly. “Those things sound nice, but they’re too far ahead. Right now, I’m just trying to get through the next round without wasting motion.”

Then there’s a pause in him, comfortable and light, the kind of silence that says enough has been shared.

Aki thanks him, jotting a small note in her pad before slipping it away. “You’re an interesting one, Hiroyuki-kun. I’ll be watching your next fight closely.”

He nods, smiling shyly. “Then I’ll try not to disappoint. Sorry. If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”

“Yes, sure! Thank you for your time.”

As he leaves, Aki watches his back for a moment longer, thoughtful. “So calm,” she murmurs. “It’s like he already made peace with the outcome before stepping into the ring.”

Sugimoto nods. “That’s what I like from him.”

***

The sun has shifted by the time Aki and Reika leave the gym. The shadows stretch long across the parking lot, and the air has that lazy warmth that comes around three in the afternoon.

Somewhere beyond the road, waves break against the shore, their rhythm faint but clear, blending with the muffled thud of gloves inside the gym.

Aki and Reika walk side by side toward the car, their footsteps quiet against the asphalt. Then Reika stops, exhales, glancing back once at the gym’s sign.

“Honestly, I don’t see what’s so special about him,” she says. “He’s just like Kanzaki. Same rhythm, same clean form. Ryoma’s going to beat him easy.”

Aki slips her hands into her coat pockets, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You think so?”

“Of course,” Reika says, matter-of-fact. “You saw him yourself. He’s good, but not that good.”

Aki tilts her head, the faintest hint of amusement in her eyes. “You really think Hiroyuki’s like Kanzaki?”

Reika shrugs. “Aren’t they?”

Aki stops walking, turning slightly toward her. “Do you know what actually made Kanzaki lose to Ryoma?”

Reika gives her a look, almost offended by the simplicity of the question. “Isn’t it obvious? Ryoma was stronger. Faster. Better.”

Aki lets out a small “tsk” and shakes her head slowly. “No.”

Reika frowns. “Then what?”

Aki turns her gaze toward the sea, her tone soft but steady. “Sometimes in boxing, it’s not just skill or strength that decides the fight. Most of the time, it’s the mind. Doesn’t matter how sharp your technique is, how hard you trained, once your thoughts spiral, everything falls apart. Pressure, disappointment, even realizing your opponent is better than you thought… it scrambles your rhythm. And when your rhythm’s gone, you’re done.”

Reika opens the door, but hesitates, her hand still on the handle. “You think that’s what happened to Kanzaki?” she asks, frowning.

Aki nods. “Everyone saw it. Kanzaki lost his will mid-fight. His body kept moving, but his mind was gone. He even disappeared after the match. And no one’s heard from him since. If he weren’t so broken inside, I bet the fight would be so much different.”

Reika glances at her, seems uneasy. “You think that’ll happen to Hiroyuki?”

Aki looks up at the pale afternoon sky, the light catching faintly in her eyes.

“No,” she says. “He’s built different. Kanzaki was too full of himself. When things didn’t go his way, he fell apart. But Hiroyuki… he’s chasing progress, not validation. Guys like that don’t break easily.”

She shoots Reika a grin, her tone light again. “That’s just my theory, though. I’m still a young journalist, not a mind reader.”