VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

The paranoia does not fade even after Ryoma reaches his mother’s barbershop. Even inside the familiar space, his attention keeps drifting toward the glass wall.

And the same feeling follows him into the next morning. During dawn roadwork with Aramaki, Ryoma finds himself constantly scanning his surroundings.

His gaze shifts between the road ahead, the empty intersections, and the distant edges of the street as if expecting something to appear from outside the ordinary rhythm of their run.

His thoughts are not staying in one place long enough to form clarity, and every so often, that uncertainty pulls his head back over his shoulder mid-run, as if confirming that nothing is following them.

It breaks his pacing repeatedly, forcing him to fall behind. And each time, Aramaki has to slow down and wait for him to catch up.

“Hey,” Aramaki calls out. “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been so off lately.”

Ryoma slows his pace and stops, using the pause as an excuse to steady his breathing, pretending to recover from exertion rather than acknowledge the question directly.

Aramaki shrugs, turns around, and begins shadowboxing lightly, letting his body stay warm. That is when he notices something in the distance.

Beneath a bridge, several figures appear clustered together. At first glance, it looks like a group exchanging movements too rough to be casual.

“What? A fight?” Aramaki mutters. Then his expression sharpens. “No, that’s bullying. Ryoma, quick. We need to do something.”

Ryoma immediately follows, slightly startled by Aramaki’s sudden decision to move. “Hey, idiot, what do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you mean what am I doing? We’re stopping them.”

“Those aren’t students. They are grown men. And there are more of them than us.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

“That’s not the point. You’ve got a title fight coming up. What if you get injured?”

“Then why don’t you handle it?”

“I have my own fight too, damn it.”

That exchange slows Aramaki for only a moment, hesitation flickering across his expression.

But before either of them can say anything else, the group beneath the bridge becomes clearer. One of the men is kicked hard in the stomach while already on the ground, and the others stand over him and continue the assault without hesitation.

Aramaki clicks his tongue and immediately breaks into a sprint again, unable to ignore it any longer.

“Hey, you! Stop it!”

The group of four notices them. The moment awareness sets in, the men scatter quickly, disappearing in different directions without hesitation.

Aramaki slows down, but he does not stop immediately. He approaches the man on the ground, concern still visible in his expression.

But strangely, the man pushes himself up almost immediately and stumbles away as well, refusing assistance or even eye contact.

“What the…?” Aramaki mutters under his breath. “Hey! Are you okay?!”

Ryoma exhales. “Forget it. Let’s just go.”

Aramaki turns and follows Ryoma back onto their route. Their pace returns gradually, settling into a steady jog again as they move away from the bridge.

“What’s wrong with you lately, Ryoma?” Aramaki asks.

Ryoma keeps his eyes forward. “What do you mean?”

“Normally you’d be the first one to step in. You wouldn’t even hesitate before jumping into something like that.”

“That’s just your impression.”

“No, I know you more than anyone else. But lately… I don’t know. You’re starting to feel more like Nakahara.”

Ryoma lets out a short breath through his nose. “Well, he is our teacher. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Aramaki says. “Just don’t end up thinking too much like him. I’m saying, you are a boxer more than you are a trainer. Just don’t lose your instincts.”

Suddenly, the system’s insidious voice seeps into Ryoma’s mind.

>

>

After that, Ryoma does not respond, because he simply cannot deny it.

Lately, everything feels slower inside his mind. Every decision stretches longer than it should. Every action comes with too much calculation that did not exist before.

It is not the Ryoma who thought and acted fast on pure instinct, the version of him known for sharp rapid judgment that often bordered on recklessness.

And he does not know whether this change is a form of development, or whether he is simply becoming a coward, more cautious and pragmatic like Nakahara.

***

Despite the pressure weighing on Ryoma from every direction, the gym does not pause for him. There’s still Ryohei as an additional source of irritation, a presence that always seems to arrive at the worst possible timing.

As he steps into the gym with Okabe following behind, Ryohei immediately makes his entrance as if he has been waiting for an audience.

“Good morning, commoners…”

He greets everyone with exaggerated enthusiasm, shaking out his hair in a deliberately theatrical motion, as though he were stepping onto a television set rather than a training facility.

Satoru and Kenta, already present earlier, respond instantly with playful clapping and exaggerated reactions.

“Oh, look who finally arrived. The gym’s resident beauty icon.”

“Truly, we are blessed today. The presence of the most radiant princess in the entire world graces us once again with her beautiful hair.”

Ryohei laughs, clearly enjoying the attention. “Well, I won’t deny it. I do look good. But don’t call me a princess. I am the Japanese champion, after all. Though… I won’t complain if you say my hair is exceptional.”

He raises his voice slightly at the last part, clearly aiming it toward Ryoma. With his first sponsor deal secured, Ryohei has begun carrying himself as though he has finally stepped into a different tier, one that places him above others in the gym.

But Ryoma does not react. He keeps stretching his arms, his attention buried under a weight of unresolved thoughts that leave no space for petty provocation.

The lack of response, however, irritates Ryohei more than any verbal comeback ever could. After a moment of lingering dissatisfaction, Ryohei turns away and heads toward the shower room.

When he returns, his hair is slightly damp, water still clinging to the strands. He walks back into the main area with renewed theatrics, approaching Ryoma directly this time.

With a sharp motion, he shakes his head, scattering droplets of water outward. Some of it lands on Ryoma.

“Hey, watch it!” Ryoma snaps immediately.

Ryohei leans in closer, repeating the motion again with exaggerated confidence.

“What’s wrong, kid? Don’t you like my beautiful hair?”

“You’re being annoying!”

“No, you’re being jealous because I finally got sponsors.”

Aramaki interjects from nearby, clearly amused. “Hey, Ryoma. You already had sponsors before him. And I’m pretty sure yours are worth a lot more. Are you really going to accept that accusation?”

“Tch. Tch. Tch.” Ryohei shakes his finger dramatically, refusing to let it go. “One sponsor is nothing compared to two. I didn’t just get shampoo deals, I also got a skincare product endorsement. Do you know what that means? It means they acknowledge my face even as a boxer. That’s recognition this guy here will never understand.”

Ryoma is about to respond, but before he can, Kurogane appears from the stairs, holding a folder in his hand. His expression is neutral, but there is a quiet seriousness in his timing.

“Ryoma! The contract for Satoru versus Kazuya Tojo has arrived. Kirizume has also confirmed the match. Korakuen Hall, April 7th.”

The atmosphere around Ryoma shifts immediately. It is not Ryohei’s noise that captures his attention anymore. It is the implication behind the timing.

Kirizume should know Nakahara had publicly stated that Ryoma’s fight with Liam O’Connell was scheduled for mid-April.

By moving Aramaki’s bout against Serrano forward to early April, Kirizume is tightening the entire timeline. It is not a drastic change on paper, but in preparation terms, it creates pressure across everything Ryoma is responsible for.

A few paces to Ryoma’s left, Satoru pauses for a moment, blinking as he points at himself as if trying to confirm what he just heard.

“Eh? Me? Against Kazuya Tojo?”

Ryoma exhales lightly, quickly masking the tension in his expression with something more neutral.

“Yes. You’re fighting on the same night as Aramaki. Come. Let’s study the contract.”

Satoru follows without hesitation, receives the documents carefully and begins to read through them.

Meanwhile, Ryoma watches him with mixed feelings, because it is not only Aramaki anymore; now he also has to prepare Satoru as well, since Satoru is still under his guidance.

Ryoma begins forcing his mind to search for an excuse to hand Satoru’s preparation over to Sera for this time, an explanation that would not damage Satoru’s confidence or dull his optimism toward the upcoming match.

He needs it to sound natural, something that feels like structure rather than rejection.

But before he can speak to Satoru…

“Good morning, everyone.”

Ryoma turns, and sees Reika standing near the entrance, with Maria just behind her holding a document he already understands without needing to see it.

Kurogane, realizing the situation, approaches Ryoma quietly and leans in close to his ear.

“To be honest, we still haven’t found a better alternative to refuse their offer. And we’re running out of time.”