VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Rivera’s final warning lingers heavily inside the living room long after the words leave his mouth. For the first time since storming into the house, Miguel Cabello no longer responds immediately.

The anger inside him still burns, but now another feeling begins surfacing beneath it, one far less comfortable than rage, because part of him understands what Hugo Ramirez truly represents.

Miguel understands enough to know that antagonizing Ryoma Takeda and antagonizing Hugo Ramirez are two different things.

Even now, with humiliation still crawling beneath his skin after days of media accusations, some quieter instinct continues warning him not to push this situation too far.

Unfortunately, the memory of those articles resurfaces again before the hesitation can settle inside him. Every headline sounded like another public insult thrown at his face, repeating the same accusation until even he could no longer ignore how the boxing world was beginning to see him.

“I don’t care if he gets angry,” Miguel says, although the answer comes out too fast. “One more win is enough. After one more big fight, I’ll have enough money to build my own promotional company. Once that happens, I’ll separate myself from Ramirez.”

The stubborn pride slowly returns to his expression as he speaks, but Rivera only watches him quietly from across the room.

At this point, whether Miguel fights Ryoma or not no longer matters very much to him. But Rivera has absolutely no interest in becoming collateral damage inside a conflict involving Hugo Ramirez.

The thought alone deepens the exhaustion visible across his face. He rubs his forehead slowly before speaking again.

“You’re forgetting something important,” Rivera says. “You’re still under contract with Ramirez. If you force this situation before that contract ends, if you sign anything involving Ryoma Takeda while you’re still tied to him, Ramirez can terminate the agreement and drag you into court for breach of contract.”

Miguel stares at him for several moments after hearing that. Then a faint smile slowly appears across his face. There is nothing warm about the expression. If anything, it looks almost arrogant.

“You forgot something too,” Miguel says. “I signed with Ramirez in March 2013. That contract ends this March. We can hold the fight afterward. April, June, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Rivera leans back after hearing that. Technically, Miguel is correct, and somehow that realization irritates him more than he expected because it means the situation is becoming far more dangerous than he originally hoped.

“Fine,” Rivera says. “But listen carefully. If you insist on doing this, then don’t drag me into becoming Ramirez’s enemy too. Before you start acting so arrogant like this, go meet him. Talk to him with respect and give him the opportunity to profit from this fight instead of cornering him.”

Miguel’s expression straightens, but he just listens while Rivera continues laying out the situation more carefully.

“And if he still refuses,” Rivera says, “then remind him your contract is ending soon. Make him understand there’s a real possibility he loses a massive future business opportunity if he keeps blocking this.”

Miguel falls into thought after hearing that because, honestly, Rivera’s logic is difficult to deny. If approached carefully enough, the situation could still become negotiation instead of outright rebellion.

Hugo Ramirez may despise Ryoma Takeda, but men like Ramirez have always valued business opportunities above personal dislike.

“…You might be right,” Miguel admits eventually.

Rivera exhales quietly through his nose, relieved that Miguel’s temper is finally cooling instead of escalating further.

Miguel straightens again before speaking. “Fine. Then I’ll go meet him right now.”

Rivera shakes his head. “Go tomorrow. I’ll come with you. I’ll help open the conversation. If you go alone in your current mood, you’ll sound like you’re threatening him. Let me bring up the contract issue myself because that topic sounds much cleaner coming from me instead of from you.”

For several seconds, Miguel simply stares at the floor while considering the suggestion carefully. But in the end, he nods once in agreement.

“…Fine.”

The tension inside the room finally lowers for the first time since Miguel arrived.

Rivera rises from his chair before gesturing toward the backyard, where laughter from the family gathering still drifts softly through the night air alongside the smell of grilled meat and smoke.

“You already came all the way here,” Rivera says. “If you suddenly leave now, everyone outside is going to think we just declared war on each other.”

***

The following afternoon, Miguel Cabello and Jorge Rivera arrive at the headquarters of Vanguard Crown Promotions under a gray Miami sky heavy with approaching rain.

Miguel removes his sunglasses as they enter the lobby, his expression carrying the same confidence he has maintained since leaving Rivera’s house last night. The frustration from yesterday still exists somewhere beneath the surface, but now it mixes with something much closer to certainty.

Because as far as he understands it, the situation has already shifted in his favor. His contract ends in March, and after that, Ramirez loses his leverage.

Rivera notices the confidence while they ride the elevator upward, but chooses not to comment on it. Personally, he still dislikes this entire situation. Even now, he has no intention of positioning himself as Miguel’s ally against Ramirez.

His goal here is simply to prevent a manageable disagreement from turning into open war between a world champion and one of the most influential promoters in boxing.

Unfortunately, Miguel clearly seems to believe they are walking into this meeting from a position of strength.

The elevator doors slide open onto the executive floor. Several employees greet them politely as the two men walk through the office corridor toward the main executive suite.

Rivera knocks once before opening the office door. Hugo Ramirez sits behind a massive walnut desk near the far side of the room, reading paperwork through thin silver glasses while Miami’s skyline stretches behind him through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He does not stand when they enter.

“Sit,” Ramirez says simply.

Miguel and Rivera take the chairs across from the desk while Ramirez calmly finishes the page in front of him first. Only after placing the document aside does he finally lift his eyes toward them.

“I appreciate you making time for this,” Rivera says carefully. “We mainly came because Miguel wanted to discuss the Takeda situation directly instead of letting media pressure complicate things further.”

Ramirez leans back in his chair without answering immediately.

“The situation is becoming louder internationally now,” Rivera continues. “Japanese media keeps escalating it, American channels already started picking it up, and honestly, it would probably benefit everyone if this gets resolved before it turns uglier.”

Ramirez leans back slightly in his chair after hearing that. “I don’t care about public perception. People in this industry always panic whenever media noise becomes slightly inconvenient. If I want the narrative to change, I can make a few calls today and the entire conversation will look different within forty-eight hours.”

Miguel’s eyes narrow slightly after hearing that, but Ramirez continues before either man can interrupt him.

“So no, Jorge. Let’s not pretend Japanese headlines are forcing my hand here.”

Rivera studies Ramirez carefully before speaking again. “Then let’s stop talking about headlines. The fight itself still makes business sense.”

Miguel leans forward in his chair. “Exactly. The fight is already big enough internationally. The media pressure only made it bigger.”

Ramirez says nothing yet. And Miguel continues speaking, his confidence becoming more visible the longer the conversation goes without direct resistance.

“So honestly, I don’t understand why you keep treating this like a problem. If the issue is the event itself, then host it yourself. Everybody profits. And you won’t lose anything.”

Ramirez finally looks directly at him. “You think this is about being afraid of him?”

Miguel immediately answers. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll beat him before round ten.”

Ramirez slowly shakes his head. “You still don’t understand what bothers me about that kid. Whether you beat him or lose to him changes nothing for me. The moment that fight happens, he gets the stage anyway. The attention. The legitimacy. And I have absolutely no interest in giving that boy a bigger platform than he already has.”

Miguel exhales sharply through his nose after hearing that. “So this really is personal.”

“No,” Ramirez replies immediately. “This is business.”

Miguel lets out a dry laugh before leaning back again. “Then your business judgment is terrible.”

Rivera immediately glances toward him, already sensing the conversation beginning to tilt in the wrong direction, but Miguel keeps going anyway.

“You’re acting like Ryoma Takeda is some kind of future threat to the entire industry just because he can host his own events. Meanwhile, all you’re doing now is making me look like I’m hiding from him. Making both of us look like cowards.”

Ramirez’s expression hardens slightly. Miguel notices it, but instead of slowing down, he presses harder.

“I’m telling you directly right now. The fight is happening sooner or later. With you or without you.”