VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Ryoma finds Aki still packing up her equipment after interviewing the others. Then she looks up when Ryoma approaches, blinking once at the serious look on his face.

“Ryoma? What’s wrong?”

“Can you spare a minute?” he asks. “I need your help.”

Aki straightens, sensing the weight behind his words. “Sure. What happened?”

Ryoma gives a quick glance toward Nakahara and Sera inside the office, then speaks low enough that only she can hear.

“We challenged Paulo Ramos. Their camp accepted immediately, but now they suddenly want to renegotiate the purse.” His jaw tightens. “We think they only learned who I am after answering. Now they want to pull back unless we pay more.”

Aki’s brows lift in disbelief. “Seriously? That’s unprofessional.”

“That’s why I need you,” Ryoma says. His voice is steady, confident, the first time in days that he sounds like himself. “Can you make a public statement? Frame it as me calling out my fans, the Cruel King Army. Say I’m not done yet, and I’m stepping into the OPBF. And that a fight with Paulo Ramos, Philippine Champion, OPBF No. 4, is already on the table.”

Aki inhales sharply. “You… you want me to leak it?”

“Not leak,” Ryoma says. “Publish. Make it official. The moment it’s out, they can’t pretend they didn’t accept. They’ll look cowardly if they backpedal.”

Aki’s eyes brighten, the reporter instinct sparking. “Oh, that’s clever. And yes, I can do it. Not in the newspaper; that’ll take time. But our website? I can put it up within an hour. This is going to explode online. My editor will jump at it.”

Ryoma nods once, grateful but keeping his composure. “Good. The faster the better.”

“I’ll go write it now,” Aki says, already grabbing her bag with renewed urgency. “Give me thirty minutes to draft and confirm with the editor. Then we hit publish.”

She gives him a sharp grin, equal parts excitement and disbelief.

“You’re really going after them, huh?”

Ryoma’s eyes burn with quiet resolve. “…They picked the wrong gym to look down on.”

Ryoma steps back into the office. Nakahara and Sera look up at once.

“It’s done,” Ryoma says. His breathing is steady, his eyes sharp. “Aki’s already writing the article. It’ll be up within the hour. Now it’s our turn.”

Nakahara nods once, firm and decisive, like someone who has drawn the line and will not retreat.

“Good,” he says. “Let’s call them back. We listen first, hear their demands. If they push for more money, tell them we don’t have the budget. If they threaten to cancel, that’s when we press.”

Sera exchanges a glance with Ryoma, then picks up the desk phone. Before dialing, Ryoma steps forward.

“Put it on speaker,” he says. “All of us need to hear everything so we can adjust together.”

Sera hesitates only a second before pressing the speaker button and entering the international number.

The phone rings once, twice, and then clicks. A deeper, older voice answers, measured and polite, but undeniably authoritative.

[This is Virgil Santos speaking.]

Sera straightens immediately. “Mr. Santos, thank you for taking our call. This is Sera from Nakahara Boxing Gym.”

[Yes, I was expecting you.]

His tone is cordial. But underneath, there’s a firmness that says he’s already made up his mind about something.

Sera chooses his words with care. “We’d like to discuss the matter you raised earlier.”

A soft exhale filters through the speaker, almost a sigh of professionalism.

[Right. I believe fifty thousand US dollars is too small for a ranking bout involving my fighter. Paulo is OPBF No. 4. The purse does not reflect that status.]

Sera keeps his voice calm. “We respect Paulo’s rank. But the offer we made is already generous. Frankly, we’ve committed everything we have. We’re a small management. We want this fight because we believe it will be meaningful for both sides. And we believe that we’ve offered quite high, to be honest.”

Virgil’s voice returns through the speaker, polite on the surface but strained underneath, like someone trying to hold a mask over something everyone in the room already sees.

[Perhaps generous from your side. But for us, it’s not enough. Paulo is the Philippine champion. Accepting a bout with a rookie… it will draw questions from our community. I need something I can say in response.”

Sera remains steady. “And if we can’t increase it…?”

[Then we will have to consider canceling the fight.]

Sera, Nakahara, and Ryoma exchange looks. They all hear what he really means. But they now it’s not about backlash, not about reputation. It’s about risk. They want insurance in case they lose, but too arrogant to admit their fear.

Sera tries to keep the diplomacy alive. “Coach Santos, we respect Paulo, but this isn’t about…”

But Ryoma suddenly steps forward, his voice slices clean through Sera’s sentence.

“Let me speak.”

Sera shoots him a warning glance, but Ryoma doesn’t wait. He leans toward the speaker and speaks directly, his voice low but clear.

“This is Ryoma Takeda.”

A small silence follows.

[Ah. Mr. Takeda. I didn’t expect…]

“You accepted the fight,” Ryoma cuts in. “And we’ve already made it public.”

A brief pause. Then a faint, amused exhale.

[…Public?]

“You can check online,” Ryoma says. “Give it an hour. I’ve announced I’m moving into the OPBF. And I’ve told my fans a fight with Paulo Ramos is on the table.”

[That’s impossible. You can’t have…]

“We also submitted the request to the OPBF commission,” Ryoma continues. “With your written acceptance attached. So don’t tell me you’re still considering.”

Sera flinches. Nakahara’s eyes widen with alarm.

“Kid…”

But Ryoma raises a hand, silencing them without even looking back.

Virgil exhales slowly through the line, and when he speaks, the politeness is strained thin.

[Mr. Takeda… fifty thousand dollars is too small for this fight.]

Ryoma doesn’t miss a beat. “Then why did you accept it? What was it? Did you think I was an easy target? A Japanese rookie you could beat up for a quick payday?”

[No, no. I had no such thought. I respect all professionals in this sport. Around the world.]

“Good,” Ryoma says softly. “Then show me that respect now.”

Nakahara mouths something silently, maybe telling to stop, but Ryoma’s eyes are fixed on the phone, unblinking.

“You already accepted the fight. You don’t get to pull it back now just because you looked me up and changed your mind.”

His voice sharpens.

“Or maybe… you’re scared.”

The room jolts around him. Sera’s eyes are widen, Nakahara actually reaches for Ryoma’s arm.

“Hey, that’s enough…”

But Ryoma doesn’t stop. “You saw the risk. You saw that I can drop your champion’s OPBF ranking. And now you want more money to cushion the fall. That’s it, isn’t it?”

Virgil’s voice turns cold, offended.

[Young man. You’d better watch your mouth.]

Ryoma doesn’t lower his tone. “You won’t have to explain anything to your community. Because once I beat your champion, they won’t have anything to question.”

He leans in even closer to the speaker, every word sharp as a knife.

“So make your decision, Mr. Santos. If you cancel this fight, I’ll blow everything up in the media. Because we already have your official acceptance.”