VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Despite the electric atmosphere inside Yoyogi Gymnasium, Kurogane finds little comfort in it. Too many empty seats remain scattered across the stands. The venue appears less full than it should, especially under the television cameras broadcasting the event around the world.

Unable to sit still any longer, Kurogane leaves and heads toward the main concourse. Along the way, he spots one of the event staff hurrying in the opposite direction.

”Hey,” Kurogane calls out. ”Are people still buying tickets?”

”A lot of them,” the staff member answers. ”The queue’s getting ridiculously long. I’m looking for more people to help with ticketing.”

”Then hurry,” Kurogane says before he continues heading outside.

By the time he reaches the main entrance, the situation becomes immediately clear. Long lines snake across the plaza, barely moving as people wait to purchase discounted seats.

The 70% price reduction has worked almost too well. Thousands people now choose to buy on fight day, creating a bottleneck at the entrances.

Kurogane watches the queues in silence. The number of tickets sold no longer worries him. The image does.

Millions of global viewers are watching the broadcast. They’ll only see empty seats and judge the event from there alone.

”Man… what should I do now?”

After considering it for a few moments, he then walks over to one of the ticketing staff.

”Hey… How many tickets are left?”

The staff member checks the handheld device. ”A little over four thousand.”

Kurogane glances toward the entrance. ”That means we haven’t even reached nine thousand inside...”

The staff checks the screen again. ”I think we already have. And there are still so many of them in queue.”

Kurogane steps closer and lowers his voice. ”After the Della Cruz versus Moriyama fight... stop selling tickets.”

”...Sir?”

”Just let everyone else in.”

The staff member looks completely bewildered, but Kurogane is already walking away.

Just before re-entering the arena, however, something catches his eye. A blond man has just stepped out of a black sedan, surrounded by several members of his entourage.

Kurogane freezes. ”The Blizzard... Roy?”

And almost instantly, the orderly ticket queue falls apart. Dozens of people abandon their places and rush toward the newcomer, phones already raised in the air.

The thing is, Miguel Cabello had already arrived at the arena several minutes earlier. Yet his entrance hadn’t caused anything close to this kind of commotion.

Without another thought, Kurogane spins around and hurries back inside, almost breaking into a run toward the locker rooms.

”Hey, Ryoma. Guess what? Jean-Pascal Roy is here.”

The atmosphere inside the locker room changes instantly.

Several heads snap toward him. Even Ryoma’s expression stiffens for the briefest moment before he casually reaches for a towel, masking the reaction almost as quickly as it appears.

”Of course he’d come,” Ryoma says. ”He’s close to Liam O’Connel.”

He shrugs as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

”He wants Liam to win tonight. If Liam takes the WBO title from Cabello, Roy gets the fight he’s wanted for years. He’ll finally have a chance to settle the score.”

A faint smile appears on Ryoma’s face. ”But I’m not going to let that happen.”

Before anyone can respond, another staff member appears at the door.

”Kenta Moriyama. It’s time.”

Nakahara immediately looks toward Kenta and the rest of the corner team.

”Alright. Let’s move.”

Kenta is the first to step forward. But as he passes, Ryoma reaches out and gently catches his left shoulder.

”Remember our sessions,” Ryoma says. ”And remember, even a textbook style can be just as unpredictable as an unorthodox one... if you make your opponent fight the battle he never prepared for.”

Kenta pauses for a brief moment, turning the words over in his mind. He traces them back through the countless drills, sparring sessions, and tactical discussions they shared throughout the camp.

Then he gives a quiet nod and walks out of the locker room.

***

As Kenta Moriyama emerges from the tunnel, a wave of cheers immediately rolls through Yoyogi Gymnasium.

”Here comes Kenta Moriyama!” the lead commentator announces. ”Many people believe he came within minutes of becoming the new WBO Asia Pacific welterweight champion in Manila.”

”Instead,” his partner adds, ”the fight ended with what is still widely debated as one of the most controversial stoppages in WBO history. Tonight, he finally gets his rematch.”

The roar only grows louder as Kenta begins his walk toward the ring.

”Kenta! Bring that belt home today!”

”Just focus on beating him!”

”This is our house! Nobody’s going to ruin your fight here!”

Then another voice cuts through the noise.

”Hey! You officials better do your job properly tonight!”

The surrounding crowd immediately joins in.

”That’s right!”

”And especially the ring doctor!”

”Don’t try to become a celebrity by stealing the spotlight again!”

The commentators can’t help laughing as some of the chants reach their headsets.

”Well...” the lead commentator says with a grin. ”I’d say the fans haven’t forgotten what happened in Manila.”

His partner chuckles. ”No, they certainly haven’t. And if you’re the officials working this fight tonight... that’s probably not the warmest welcome you could ask for.”

***

Moments later, it is Alvin Della Cruz’s turn to emerge. With Hermosa walking just behind him, carrying the WBO Asia Pacific championship belt on his shoulder, the atmosphere changes almost instantly.

A chorus of boos pours down from every corner of Yoyogi Gymnasium.

”You don’t deserve that belt!”

”You only won because the officials protected you!”

”Don’t expect the same thing to happen tonight!”

Della Cruz keeps walking without reacting, his eyes fixed on the ring. After all, they mostly speak in Japanese, something he don’t really understand.

The commentators wait for the noise to settle before speaking.

”The reception couldn’t be more different! Many fans are still upset over what happened in Manila.”

”But it’s also worth remembering, this rematch wasn’t ordered by the WBO. It was Alvin Della Cruz himself who asked for it.”

”Exactly. Whatever anyone thinks about the stoppage, the champion clearly believes that rivalry wasn’t settled. He wanted to come to Tokyo and settle it once and for all.”

That reminder softens the mood, if only slightly. Scattered applause begins to emerge among the boos.

”That’s a true champion!”

”Respect!”

”Let’s see who the better man really is!”

And of course, Della Cruz still doesn’t understand a single word. To him, they’re nothing more than noise.

Without the benefit of translation, he simply keeps walking toward the ring, his eyes never leaving Kenta Moriyama, who is already waiting quietly in the opposite corner.

Whatever the crowd is trying to tell him, he’ll find out soon enough once the opening bell rings.

***

Gradually, the noise inside Yoyogi Gymnasium begins to settle as the ring announcer steps through the ropes, microphone in hand. After a brief pause to let the applause fade, his voice echoes throughout the arena.

”Ladies and gentlemen… we are set for the next contest of the evening! This bout is scheduled for twelve rounds, and it is for the WBO Asia Pacific Welterweight Championship!”

He turns toward the blue corner, extending one arm. ”Introducing first… fighting out of the blue corner! He is 28 years old, stands 176 centimeters tall, and weighed in at 66.5 kilograms. He enters the ring with a professional record of 12 victories, 4 defeats, and 1 draw. Ladies and gentlemen… please welcome... Kenta Moriyama!”

The crowd erupts as Kenta raises one glove from his corner. And once the applause settles, the announcer pivots toward the opposite side of the ring.

”And his opponent… fighting out of the red corner! He is 24 years old, stands 175 centimeters tall, and also weighed in at 66.5 kilograms. He brings a professional record of 28 bouts, 26 victories, 2 defeats, with 19 wins coming by way of knockout.”

His voice rises another level. ”He is the reigning... WBO Asia Pacific Welterweight Champion... Arvin ’El Martillo’ Della Cruz!”

The applause gradually fades into an expectant silence as the referee steps between the two fighters and motions them to the center of the ring.

Kenta and Della Cruz walk forward until they stand face-to-face. The referee places one hand lightly against each man’s glove before delivering his final instructions.

”I expect a clean fight. Protect yourselves at all times. Obey my commands at all times. If I tell you to break, break immediately. Do you both understand?”

Both fighters give a single nod.

”Good. Touch gloves... and good luck.”

Kenta extends his left glove. But Della Cruz, instead of meeting it immediately, takes one step closer.

The referee reacts at once, sliding between them with both hands raised, ready to separate the two before tempers flare. But Della Cruz never makes another move.

”This time,” he says quietly, ”I’ll beat you with my own two hands... before anyone else can interfere.”

Kenta’s gaze sharpens. His English has improved considerably since Manila. This time, he catches enough to understand what Della Cruz is trying to say.

Seeing the silent but unmistakable understanding in Kenta’s eyes, Della Cruz simply taps his glove with his own before turning and walking back to the red corner.

”Oh... I don’t think that was just a routine touch of gloves,” the lead commentator says.

”No, not at all,” his partner replies. ”There was a message there. Whatever Della Cruz said, Kenta understood it.”

”These two have been carrying unfinished business ever since Manila.”

”Well... in just a few seconds, they’ll finally get the chance to settle it themselves.”

”Manila left everyone arguing. Tonight, both men have twelve rounds to give us an answer nobody can debate.”