VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

The moment the bell fades, Korakuen Hall swells with noise, a hundred different murmurs breaking loose at once.

The crowd stirs, excited but unsure. Some think Ryoma’s in control, others whisper that Sekino’s experience just showed.

At ringside, the commentators fill the space, voices threading through the buzz:

“Ryoma looks sharp tonight, great composure, great movement.”

“But Sekino’s patience is something else. You can feel it. He’s dictate the game in his term.”

Ryoma returns to his corner under the bright lights, the sound of applause rolling like surf. Hiroshi and Sera greet him with easy smiles, already reaching to lift the stool and wipe him down.

“You looked great tonight, Ryoma,” Hiroshi says. “You had him chasing ghosts.”

But Ryoma doesn’t answer. He just sits, leaning forward, eyes still narrowed, his breathing steady.

Inside his head, the confusion hasn’t left him. The sting on his cheek feels sharper than the punch itself.

Coach Nakahara crouches beside him, towel in hand. “What’s wrong?”

Ryoma looks up. “Coach… did you see what Sekino did when he slapped my cheek? Twice. Those were the only two clean hits that round.”

Hiroshi blinks. “Only two? You sure? You were the one pushing him, landing the jabs, keeping him pinned.”

Ryoma shakes his head. “I didn’t land anything clean. And Sekino barely threw, but he touched me twice. That means he won that round.”

Hiroshi glances at Nakahara, frowning, but Nakahara’s already nodding. “He’s right. None of Ryoma’s punches broke through. All contact had no points.”

Ryoma leans forward slightly. “So… did you catch what Sekino did?”

Nakahara squints, thinking. “You didn’t see it?”

“Not clearly,” Ryoma admits. “I knew he changed the punch line somehow, but the timing…”

“You felt it came out too fast? Like it skipped a beat?” Nakahara cuts in.

Ryoma nods once.

“Of course it did,” Nakahara says, lips tightening. “He didn’t pull his left all the way back for that one. Right after his textbook jab hit your guard, he snapped another one, half-flicker, half-slap, without resetting his arm.”

Ryoma’s brows lift slightly, realization dawning. “So… that’s why it felt like it appeared out of nowhere. My own guard was in the way… I couldn’t clearly see it. And it didn’t give me enough time to react.”

“Exactly,” Nakahara says. “He’s shortening the motion to steal time, a veteran’s trick. What? It bothered you that much?”

Ryoma shakes his head. “The punch itself didn’t hurt. He traded power for speed.”

“Then ignore it,” Hiroshi says, waving a hand dismissively.

“It’s not that simple,” Sera cuts in. “Even light punches add up. If one clips your eyelid, it’ll swell. And every clean touch means points. Give him the lead, and he’ll dictate the fight on his terms.”

Ryoma nods. “He’s fighting frugal but effective, conserving stamina while forcing me to spend mine. If he keeps the lead, I’ll be the one chasing, and that’s exactly what he wants.”

“Right,” Sera agrees. “His record tells the story. Most of his wins are by decision. He’s an expert at controlling pace.”

“Then finish it early,” Hiroshi blurts. “Don’t let it drag.”

“That’s part of their setup,” Nakahara says flatly, flicking his eyes toward Sekino’s corner. “They want Ryoma to burn out chasing a knockout. If Ryoma can’t finish him, the late rounds become a nightmare.”

***

The referee’s voice cuts through the air.

“Seconds out!”

Nakahara’s team hasn’t found a countermeasure yet, but no one looks concerned. It’s still early to get worked up.

“Use the next round to study him,” Nakahara says as he slips through the ropes, pausing a moment on the apron. “He’ll probably keep the same rhythm. Force him to show the rest of his tricks. Just don’t burn your legs yet.”

Ryoma nods over his shoulder, then turns toward the ring. He rolls his neck, loosens his arms, eyes sharp.

Across the canvas, Sekino’s still getting quiet instructions from his corner. And through the faint shimmer of his Vision Grid, Ryoma reads the lip movements.

>

Sekino nods once to Yuichi, then turns, gaze locking on Ryoma.

Now both men loosen their shoulders, silent, observant, waiting for the bell.

And then…

Ding!

Round two begins.

Ryoma steps out of his corner, light-footed, drifting along the ropes, not pressing, not chasing, just watching.

Nakahara studies him from ringside, arms crossed, expression hard to read. His thoughts already work ahead, searching for Sekino’s next layer.

“I trust the kid’s ability,” he says quietly. “Technique, speed, ring IQ… he’s got all of it. But this is the first time he’s facing someone who can make ten rounds feel like twenty. He’s never had to endure that kind of pace.”

“I bet that’s the only way they’ve found so far to beat Ryoma,” Sera says flatly.

Nakahara exhales, shaking his head. “I’d bet they’ve been studying him since the Kanzaki fight. And they could have found something even we didn’t.”

***

Sekino holds his ground at center ring, calm and unmoving. The Philly Shell stays firm, left arm tucked over his ribs, breathing steady. He knows he’s taken the lead, so he waits, and let Ryoma come to him.

Finally, Ryoma stops his light circling. He raises his guard and steps closer, slow and measure, eyes locked on every twitch in Sekino’s body.

Then it comes. Sekino flicks his left the instant Ryoma enters his range.

Whsst!

Ryoma slides a step back, the glove missing by a breath. Still, he knows it now: Sekino has already grasped his own range, found the exact distance his fist can reach.

>

“Yeah…” Ryoma weaves his body lightly, his left twitching, feinting. “And he could just extend even farther if he leaned into it like most flicker users. But he didn’t take the risk yet.”

>

Ryoma steps in again.

Another flicker from Sekino snaps out, and Ryoma pulls back.

But…

Dsh!

It clips his guard this time.

“Heh…” Ryoma exhales. “We just talked about it, and he’s showing it already.”

>

Ryoma nods slightly, and starts bouncing, loosening up, and then drives in.

Another flicker flies.

Dsh!

Blocked.

Dsh!

Blocked again.

Dsh!

And again.

By the fourth, Ryoma’s found the rhythm. He swats the glove aside with his right, and then fires a sharp one-two.

Sekino parries the jab with his right…

Dp!

…while his left arm is back covering his side. And Ryoma’s cross only slams into the lead shoulder.

Dug!!!

Now that Sekino’s fully shelled up, Ryoma presses in deeper, picking his spots. Three more punches fly; a left to the body, a straight right, and a left hook upstairs.

Sekino rolls with them. The body shot still digs in at an angle, the cross smothers on his shoulder, but the hook whistles over as he ducks and takes a half-step away.

Then he fires back, not flickers this time, but crisp textbook jabs.

Dsh!

Dsh! Dsh! Dsh!

All meet Ryoma’s guard.

And this time, Ryoma keeps his head tilted a bit away from his own gloves, preventing the guard from blocking his vision.

Another two jabs hit the glove. And without pulling his left on the last one, Sekino changes the line, snapping a slapping jab.

But this time, Ryoma clearly sees everything.

“You can’t fool me now.”