VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

As the conversation continues, Ryoma keeps circling back to the idea of attempted murder while repeatedly inserting Ramirez into the narrative.

Gradually, Mark stops resisting that part of the framing. His energy shifts, no longer denying Ramirez’s involvement, only insisting on his own limited intent.

The more Ryoma presses the attempted murder angle, the more Mark eventually reaches his limit.

Eventually, at one point, he slams both hands onto the table.

BANG!

”How many times do I have to say it! He only told me to injure you! Yes, I had a debt with Ramirez, but it wasn’t even that much… less than a hundred thousand dollars. To kill someone overseas just to clear that kind of debt doesn’t make sense. If you don’t believe me, then why don’t you…”

”Ah, yes… why don’t we ask Ramirez directly?” Ryoma cuts in. ”That’s what you meant, right? But we can only proceed based on your testimony.”

Tachibana, fully aware of Ryoma’s intent, adds calmly, ”If Ramirez only instructed you to injure Ryoma Takeda, your sentence may not be severe. Around fifteen years. If you cooperate, it could go down to five, possibly with probation after two or three.”

A flicker of relief breaks through Mark’s expression. Not hope exactly, just the realization that life imprisonment is no longer inevitable. And of course, Ryoma always catches that shift, and presses further.

”But that only works if Ramirez confirms it,” he says. ”He has to tell the court he only instructed you to injure me. That’s the only way your sentence can be reduced. But first, we need you to bring Ramirez to court, isn’t it?”

”And your family,” Tachibana adds, ”you don’t need to worry about them. They will be placed under protection. We’ll coordinate with the FBI during the investigation and trial.”

Mark falls silent. The resistance collapses. His shoulders drop, his expression loosens.

”You promise?” he asks quietly.

”This is standard procedure,” Tachibana replies. ”You’ll remain a suspect, but also a witness. And witnesses are entitled to protection for their families.”

Ryoma stands, stretching his arms casually. ”You know… I don’t hold any grudge against you. I understand Ramirez very well. And I understand you were just used. That’s all I came to say. No hatred. No grudge. I forgive you.”

Then he turns toward the door. ”That’s it, Detective. Thanks for the opportunity.”

Tachibana exhales softly and follows him out. Once the door closes, Ryoma is gesturing at a room near the end of the corridor.

”Well,” he says, ”you can tell the other one, his partner already confessed. There’s no reason to lie anymore.”

Ryoma exhales lightly after that, the tension finally easing out of his shoulders. Fatigue becomes visible in him again.

”I should head back home,” he says.

Tachibana gives a small nod. ”I’ll escort you. Keita and Shozo are waiting downstairs.”

Ryoma shakes his head almost immediately. ”No, it’s fine. I can find my own way.”

Before Tachibana can insist further, Ryoma is already moving. He walks down the corridor alone, hands loosely in his pockets, posture relaxed in a way that contrasts the intensity of what just happened inside the room.

Halfway down the hall, his phone rings. He glances at the screen and picks up without slowing his steps.

”Hi, mom. What is it?”

…

”Me? I’m at the police station right now.”

…. …

”No, no, I’m fine. After what happened this morning, the police are going to keep an eye on my safety, and I…”

His voice continues to fade as he walks farther away, disappearing toward the end of the corridor.

Tachibana watches him for a moment until he is completely out of sight. Only then does he turn back and step toward the adjacent observation room.

Inside the observation room, Shibata is already there with two officers, engaged in a low, focused briefing over the earlier interrogation.

The moment Tachibana steps into the room, the conversation cuts off immediately. The officers straighten slightly, while Shibata remains leaning casually against the table, not bothering to fix his posture. He looks up at Tachibana with a faint, satisfied smirk.

”Well,” Shibata says, ”congratulations. You pulled it off… with the kid doing most of the work.”

Tachibana exhales, then raises both hands slightly in surrender. ”Alright, alright. I admit it. The kid wasn’t just talking big.”

Shibata immediately points at him, almost amused. ”See? What did I tell you? That kid’s special. If he weren’t already a boxer, he’d probably make a better detective than you.”

Tachibana doesn’t respond to the jab. Instead, he lets it slide and turns his attention toward the one-way glass.

Behind it, Mark sits slumped in his chair. The tension has drained out of him, leaving only fatigue. His shoulders hang low, and after a moment, he tilts his head back, staring upward in silence.

It’s less like defiance now, more like exhaustion or resignation, as if silently hoping something outside the room might still save him.

One of the officers finally breaks the brief silence, clearly reacting to Shibata’s praise of Ryoma.

”Sure, the kid is good,” he says. ”But I didn’t see anything special in what he did. It’s all standard stuff we already use here. Rambling aimlessly to observe reactions, provoking, baiting emotional responses, probing for weak points before applying pressure. And in the end, it only worked because Detective Tachibana gave the suspect a reduced sentencing path. That’s what made him talk.”

The second officer nods slightly, adding his own assessment. ”And let’s be honest. The only reason it worked this time is because we already had the audio recording of Hugo Ramirez. That was the key piece we didn’t have before. The kid just used what was already on the table.”

”Oh, you think so?” Shibata says. His tone shifts slightly, less amused, more pointed. ”So you’re saying a kid like that… not a police officer, not a detective, not an investigator… just a boxer, somehow knows all the standard techniques of professional interrogators, and there’s nothing special about it?”

One of the officers shrugs lightly, unwilling to escalate it. ”Yeah, yeah… we know you like him that much.”

The other concedes a little more reluctantly. ”I’ll give you this much… he has potential.”

”What he just did,” Tachibana says, voice calm but firm, ”isn’t just potential. That’s already professional-level interrogation work.”

He turns around, leaning slightly toward the glass wall, arms crossing over his chest.

”Knowing the techniques is one thing,” Tachibana continues. ”Using them in real time, reading micro-behavior as it happens, and adjusting pressure without losing your own composure… that’s something else entirely. And don’t forget, inside that room, it’s not just us applying pressure to the suspect’s mind. The suspect is trying to do the same thing back to us.”

The room falls silent for a brief moment, the weight of Tachibana’s words still hanging in the air.

Then Shibata breaks it with a light exhale. ”Alright, let’s move on to the other one.”

He glances toward the two officers, a faint challenge forming in his tone.

”Now then… how about you two try it yourselves? I should be easier now?”

In theory, this should be much easier now. They no longer start from zero. They already have the recorded call linked to Hugo Ramirez, and they already have Mark’s confession establishing the chain of involvement.

They now have leverage, enough pressure to push Daniel Reed into becoming a cooperating witness against Ramirez. On paper, the situation is already under control. But inside the room, it doesn’t always work out that easily.

The two officers enter with confidence, but Daniel Reed refuses to engage the way they expect, responding with short, dismissive answers that slowly wear down their patience.

Gradually, a structured questioning turns personal. Their tone hardens. Their control slips. Frustration builds as Reed continues to refuse cooperation.

For a moment, it looks like the situation is about to escalate beyond procedure. One of the officer slams the table hard, while the other actually climbs on it and grabs Reed by the neck.

”Just answer the damn question.”

”You think we’re joking around here?”

That is when Tachibana steps in, and finally takes over the interrogation himself.

”Hayashi. Your mother just called. Come out. Let me take it from here.”

Hayashi hesitates for a split second, still breathing hard. Then he turns back toward Reed and points a finger right at him.

”You’re lucky my mom called,” he says through clenched teeth. ”Otherwise this wouldn’t end here.”

”Enough…” Tachibana says calmly, gently patting on his shoulder. ”Get out now.”

Hayashi clicks his tongue, but finally backs away and exits the room.

***

The next morning, the Tokyo Metropolitan Police headquarters is flooded with reporters. Boxing journalists, crime reporters, and general media all gather, pressing for answers about what happened to Ryoma Takeda the day before.

Superintendent Shibata takes control of the situation, giving formal statement confirming an incident, the detention of suspects, and an ongoing investigation.

”The suspects connected to the case have been taken into custody, and an investigation is currently ongoing. At this stage, we are unable to disclose further details, including identities or operational information, as it may interfere with active procedures.”

A boxing journalist raises his hand. ”Many analysts are suggesting this was intended to derail Ryoma Takeda’s path toward his first WBO title fight. What are your thoughts on that?”

Shibata pauses briefly. ”The individuals involved have stated that this incident began as an unintended situation that escalated beyond their original intent.”

”And you just believe that?” the journalist immediately follows up.

”Of course we cannot simply accept that,” Shibata replies. ”But at this stage, we cannot confirm it either. The investigation is still in its early phase, given that the incident occurred only yesterday. We are not in a position to make any definitive statements, and we ask for your understanding as we continue to verify the facts.”

Despite having sufficient evidence and cooperating suspects ready to testify to bring Ramirez to court, Shibata does not mention Hugo Ramirez or any deeper developments in the case, keeping the true scope of the investigation firmly out of public view.

After the statement, speculation spreads quickly, growing increasingly uncontrolled. Still, Hugo Ramirez’s name never enters the public narrative. The authorities deliberately hold back Mark’s confession, prioritizing the safety of his family before any wider disclosure is made.

The result? Most of the attention shifts toward Liam O’Connell’s camp, seen as the likely beneficiary of the incident.