VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

From the red corner, Kirizume’s expression gradually darkens. What bothers him isn’t the fact that Serrano is getting hit. A fighter can lose exchanges, those things happen. What bothers him is how Serrano is reacting to the pressure.

With every bodyshot Aramaki lands, Serrano leans farther backward. His gloves keep working to create space, but his head continues drifting behind his hips while his feet struggle to keep up underneath him.

The movement reminds Kirizume less of a controlled retreat and more of a drunkard stumbling away from a problem he doesn’t want to face.

The structure is gone. The same fighter who spent the previous rounds moving with rhythm and freedom is now abandoning all of it the moment Aramaki forces him into uncomfortable territory.

”Enough, Leo!” Kirizume calls out, his voice cuts sharply through the noise of the arena. ”Stop leaning away and hold your ground.”

Serrano hears it, but Aramaki is still attached to him, still walking him down, still digging at the body whenever an opening appears.

Thud! Thud! BUGH!

Kirizume’s irritation finally breaks through. ”Isn’t this the fight you wanted? Then stop giving ground. Plant your feet and fight back!”

Before Serrano can respond, the bell rings first…

Ding!

The sound cuts through the exchange, and perhaps saves Serrano from a few more seconds of Aramaki’s pressure.

Aramaki immediately stops and lowers his gloves, respecting the bell. Serrano, however, still plants both hands against Aramaki’s chest and shoves him away before turning toward his corner.

The irritation is obvious. So is the discomfort. His expression tightens as he walks away, and the slight hunch in his posture tells its own story after the sustained body attack.

***

The arena remains loud even after the action has stopped. The sudden momentum shift has sent a wave of excitement through Korakuen Hall.

”What a turnaround from Aramaki,” one commentator says over the noise. ”Serrano was controlling so much of the fight, and then a single adjustment completely changed the complexion of that round.”

”The Cobra Shot opened the door,” his partner replies. ”But what impressed me even more was what came afterward. Aramaki didn’t get overeager. He closed the distance, stayed disciplined, and forced Serrano into a type of fight he clearly wasn’t comfortable with.”

”And that’s probably the most significant thing we’ve seen tonight.”

”Yeah… For the first time in this fight, Serrano wasn’t moving because he wanted to. He was moving because he had to.”

The crowd continues roaring as both fighters return to their corners, fully aware that the fight now feels very different from the one they were watching only a minute ago.

In the blue corner, Ryoma waits for Aramaki’s return with a quiet sense of satisfaction. It isn’t only because Aramaki managed to turn the round around. What interests him even more is the atmosphere across the ring.

Kirizume no longer looks composed. The crack is small, almost invisible to anyone not specifically looking for it, but Ryoma sees it.

And the moment Serrano sits down, the red corner explodes into activity. The urgency is impossible to miss as the team immediately crowd around him.

One works quickly with a towel, wiping away sweat while another presses an ice pack against one side of Serrano’s body. A second ice pack appears on the opposite side almost immediately, forcing another cornerman to work around it.

Near his legs, the physio has already dropped to one knee, both hands moving across Serrano’s thighs in a quick massage, trying to keep the muscles loose before the next round begins.

Ironically, the damage has very little to do with the punch that changed the round. Aramaki’s Cobra Shot certainly got everyone’s attention, but it was the repeated body attacks that left the deeper impression.

The concern in the red corner is obvious. Nobody seems particularly worried about Serrano’s face. They are worried about his legs.

Because Serrano’s entire style tonight has revolved around movement. The constant shuffling, pivots, angle changes, and resets all depend on fresh legs.

Ryoma observes the scene across the ring for only a moment, but it is enough. The pieces are already moving into place inside his head, and the outline of the next phase begins forming almost immediately.

He turns his attention back to Aramaki, waiting until the fighter finishes rinsing his mouth before speaking.

”You lost another round,” Ryoma says calmly. ”But that’s fine. Because from this point on, it’s going to become a long nightmare he won’t be able to wake up from.”

Aramaki responds with a small nod while steadying his breathing. His expression remains focused, but there is also a growing sense of conviction behind it now, finally understands what Ryoma has been building toward.

The first half of the fight was never about immediate success. It was about laying the groundwork, feeding something into Serrano’s mind and instinct while quietly guiding the fight toward a specific shape.

Now that shape is beginning to emerge. And seeing it with his own eyes does more than any explanation ever could.

It strengthens Aramaki’s trust in the strategy, and more importantly, in the man standing in front of him.

”I’ve seen it,” Aramaki says. ”One of his bad habits has already started to surface.”

”Exactly,” Ryoma says. ”Soon, this will become a fight you’re very familiar with.”

***

Meanwhile, the atmosphere in the red corner is moving in the opposite direction. What started as urgency is gradually turning into something closer to a crisis of trust between Serrano and Kirizume.

”I didn’t teach you those fundamentals so you could become a coward in the ring,” Kirizume says. ”I taught you how to make better use of your advantages without taking unnecessary risks. And you’ve benefited from those advantages for five rounds. But the moment the fight turned ugly, you started running.”

”And what exactly did you want me to do?” Serrano shoots back. ”You’re the one who kept telling me to fight safe.”

”Yes,” Kirizume replies. ”And you ruined that the moment you abandoned my instructions. Which is why I’m asking you now: isn’t this what you wanted? To fight him openly? Then why are you backing away like a drunkard the moment it happens?”

Serrano’s expression hardens. His first instinct is to argue, but the words never come, because beneath the irritation, there is confusion.

He keeps telling himself that he isn’t afraid of Aramaki’s punches. Yet he can’t deny what happened in there.

When the pressure came, when the distance disappeared, when the body shots started piling up, his body was indeed reacting that way.

For a brief moment, his attention drifts away from Kirizume and toward Aramaki on the opposite corner. The frustration still burns inside his chest. But Kirizume immediately pulls his attention back.

”Now listen to me carefully,” Kirizume says, his voice lower this time, but carrying far more weight. ”I’ve never tried to suppress your natural talent. We settled that issue years ago, after Ryoma humiliated you at that rookie tournament. What I gave you was structure to minimize your flaws so you could control fights comfortably.”

His eyes narrow. ”But if the fight can no longer be controlled, that’s when the wild side in you is meant to be unleashed.”

For the first time, Serrano doesn’t immediately reject the idea. A flicker of understanding crosses his face.

Even so, he turns away almost immediately afterward. The respect still isn’t there. Somewhere along the way, the recent situation inside the gym has already convinced him that Kirizume is a failure unworthy of his respect.

Seeing the tension building again, Noritada finally steps in. ”Kirizume-san is right, Serrano. This isn’t really difficult to understand. You use the structure while it gives you an advantage. You fight comfortably while comfort is available. But the moment that comfort disappears, that’s when everyone finds out what kind of fighter you really are. It’s as simple as that.”

Serrano looks back toward him, then to Kirizume. ”So you’re saying... that once the structure stops helping me, I can fight however I want? Do whatever I think is right?”

For a brief moment, Kirizume’s expression sharpens. That isn’t exactly the lesson he wants Serrano to take away, not the ideal form of Serrano he has in mind.

But considering the situation, arguing over the nuance is pointless. So for now, he lets it go just as how Serrano takes it.

”Yes,” he says with a reluctant nod. ”Use your reach while the advantage is still yours. But if you can’t hold the structure to control the fight... then do it your way. Trust your instincts.”

Serrano simply stares at Kirizume. The tension in his face gradually fades, replaced by something far more familiar. It isn’t obedience, nor is it agreement. If anything, Serrano still dislikes being told what to do.

But this time, he is willing to follow Kirizume only because Kirizume giving the freedom back to him.

”Fine,” Serrano says, steadying his breath. ”Now that’s something I can work with.”

He stops arguing, his attention settling completely back on the fight. For the first time since the previous round ended, Serrano looks focused again.