VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

As the final seconds of the break tick away, Kenta lightly taps the canvas with the tips of his shoes.

Tuk, tuk, tuk.

The legs are still there, still springy, still light and responsive.

He barely used his feet in this fight. Ever since he became obsessed with chasing the zone, he had abandoned the very thing that once defined his boxing.

”All right... Let’s start with the most basic thing I know.”

Then the bell sounds.

Ding!

This time, Kenta doesn’t march straight toward the center. He bounces out lightly, his upper body keeps its familiar lazy sway, rocking loosely from side to side.

When Della Cruz claims the center of the ring, Kenta begins circling him at an easy pace, gliding around the perimeter with relaxed footwork.

Every now and then, a long jab flicks out from the edge of range. The movement isn’t flashy, simply the boxing he has practiced thousands of times.

”Hold on... Moriyama’s back on his feet, circling the champion instead of giving up the center!”

”And look at the difference already! We haven’t seen this kind of footwork from him for several rounds.”

”Well, whatever Nakahara said between rounds, it looks like Moriyama finally remembered he doesn’t have to fight every second with his back against the ropes.”

Della Cruz notices the change, but his expression barely shifts. A little more movement isn’t enough to concern him. Rather than chasing recklessly, he stalks Kenta with short calculated sidesteps, patiently trimming away the available space.

Then, the moment Kenta’s rhythm settles, Della Cruz suddenly explodes forward. A leaping left tears across the distance, and his right already loaded behind it.

Kenta reacts instinctively. His sideways pendulum immediately turns into a backward step.

The left still crashes into his right guard…

Dug.

…but the impact isn’t nearly as jarring. His retreat absorbs much of the force.

The right hand comes immediately afterward, and Kenta doesn’t care what the punch might cost him.

He simply returns to the basics; knees dip, left shoulder rises behind a tight guard, and his own right shoots straight down the middle in one compact motion.

Bugh!

The punch hits the collarbone, stalling the champion’s momentum for just a fraction of a second.

But Della Cruz’s right still squeezes past the left guard…

Dsh!

…thumping against the left side of Kenta’s neck.

It’s almost a simultaneous trade, and the result is enough to interrupt the champion’s forward momentum for a brief moment.

That’s all Kenta needs. He slides off to the side and immediately rebuilds his lazy, swaying pendulum rhythm.

Sometimes he rocks from side to side to change the angle. Sometimes he bounces back and forth, subtly blurring the distance between them.

Della Cruz a bit hesitates, enough to delay the timing of his next entry. And Kenta doesn’t wait for him to figure it out. He takes the initiative instead, bouncing lightly on his feet while flicking those loose, swaying lefts from the outside.

Tap!

Tap!

Tap!

Not hard, not damaging, just enough to keep the champion thinking.

Eventually, Della Cruz commits, and a heavy one-two tears forward. But once again, the same picture unfolds.

The jab crashes into Kenta’s guard.

Dug.

At the very same instant, Kenta’s compact straight shoots down the middle…

DSH!

And this time, Kenta has enough room to send a follow up, digging a short left hook into the body.

Thud!

Before the champion can answer, Kenta immediately wraps both arms around him, and turns the exchange into a clinch.

He doesn’t hold the champion for long, immediately gives Della Cruz a firm shove, then takes two quick steps back.

”That’s a completely different Moriyama!”

”He’s not trying to win every exchange anymore. He’s taking one clean opening, adding one more shot, then getting right back to his feet.”

”And look who’s being forced to think now. Della Cruz isn’t dictating every second of the fight anymore.”

Nothing about what Kenta doing is particularly advanced. Yet to Della Cruz, the change feels completely unexpected.

He was convinced Kenta was on the verge of breaking. This was supposed to be the round where everything finally unraveled.

Instead, somehow, the fight feels as though it has drifted back onto equal ground once again.

***

The rhythm forces the champion to think, and no matter how brief, it chips away at the relentless pressure that has controlled the fight for so long.

Kenta can feel the difference. Somehow, the fight feels like another day sparring with Ryoma back at the gym. In fact, fighting Ryoma is even harder than this.

”That’s right... He wasn’t expecting this.”

”And I only have to keep surprising him... using the textbook boxing I already know.”

Suddenly, Kenta abandons the loose footwork. His stance tightens, both gloves rise close to his cheeks. His knees sink lower into a compact crouch.

Instead of swaying loosely, he begins slipping his upper body with short, rhythmic movements, adopting the compact torso rhythm of a peek-a-boo fighter.

”...Wait a second. What is he doing now?”

”I’ve never seen Moriyama fight from this stance before!”

”Neither have I! That’s completely different from the style he’s shown throughout his career!”

”And look at the crowd… they’re just as confused!”

”What on earth did Nakahara tell him during that break?”

This isn’t a style Kenta picks up on a whim. He’s prepared this during training camp, another answer specifically built for Della Cruz’s pressure.

With Kenta inching forward, Della Cruz doesn’t bother stepping in this time. Kenta is already giving him the range he wants, so the champion simply lets his hands go; heavy straight after heavy straight.

But Kenta’s taller frame has almost disappeared. His torso keeps weaving in that compact peek-a-boo rhythm, reading the heavy straights without much difficulty.

Swssh!

Swssh!

Swssh!

Eventually, Della Cruz changes gears, shifting into faster combinations. The punches come quicker, but each one carries noticeably less weight.

Kenta can’t avoid every shot. But blocking them becomes much easier, and his advance never stops.

Dug.

Swssh!

Dug. Dug.

Swssh!!

Seeing Kenta fighting like that makes Della Cruz wonder.

He’s taller than me. Longer reach too.

Then why is he fighting like this?

Ignoring the head, the champion also dips slightly and whips a right hook toward the body.

Kenta sinks even lower. And instead of catching it with his glove, he rolls his left shoulder into the punch while leaning his torso to the right.

Dug.

The hook crashes into the upper arm, glances away at an angle.

When Della Cruz expects the familiar compact right counter, a left straight suddenly thumps into the center of his chest.

Thud!

...What the?

His momentum stalls, only for a moment.

Della Cruz immediately answers with two hooks; left upstairs, right downstairs.

Kenta ducks beneath the first, the second lands against his raised left shoulder as he rolls with it to the right.

And once again, another compact left punches straight into the champion’s chest.

Bugh!

This time, the shove behind it is even stronger. Della Cruz is forced to give up a full step backward.

”He backed him up again!”

”Twice now! Moriyama keeps interrupting the champion’s forward momentum!”

Della Cruz takes a step back and resets, his eyes never leaving Kenta, piecing together the rhythm.

”He’s defending with the left... but he’s countering with the left too.”

The realization makes him narrow his eyes.

What an unusual way to fight.

For a brief moment, he studies Kenta’s compact stance once more.

But then he slowly shakes his head.

”A trick like that won’t beat me.”

”I’m not that easy to deal with.”

The champion lowers his own center of gravity. His gloves rise tighter, knees bend.

”Did you see he just shook his head?”

”That’s the look of a champion who’s accepted the challenge!”

The relaxed stalking rhythm disappears, replaced by a compact pressure stance that mirrors Kenta’s lowered posture.

For the first time tonight, Della Cruz looks completely serious, his eyes locked onto every twitch of Kenta’s shoulders.

”And would you look at this... Della Cruz’s changed his stance too!”

”Ladies and gentlemen, this fight has just entered another level.”

***

With the longer reach, Kenta makes the first move; a compact one-two shoots straight down the middle.

Della Cruz blocks both punches on a tight guard.

Dug. Dug.

Without hesitation, he slips to the outside, rolls his shoulders, and whips a right hook.

Again, Kenta rolls with it, presenting his left shoulder while leaning his torso to the right. At the same time, his compact left immediately fires toward the champion’s chest.

But Della Cruz has already seen it. His left hand snaps across, slapping Kenta’s glove downward.

”Not this time.”

But suddenly…

Dhuack!

A straight right crashes flush into Della Cruz’s face. His head jerks backward.

”OH! WHAT A SHOT!”

For the first time since the opening bell, the champion is caught with a completely unexpected strike.

”HE CAUGHT THE CHAMPION CLEAN!”

Della Cruz grits his teeth, refusing to give ground. He plants both feet and fires back with a barrage of heavy straights.

Kenta blocks every one of them on a tight guard...

Dug! Dug! Dug!

Then comes the right hook. And again, Kenta rolls with it, letting his left shoulder take the impact as he subtly cocks his own left.

Della Cruz bites, his left glove instinctively shifts toward the expected counter.

But it’s nothing more than a feint.

”Oh, shit...”

A crushing right hand slams straight into his face.

DSH!

Before the champion can recover…

DHUACK!!!

…a left hook whips across the side of his head.

Della Cruz staggers backward. And Kenta is already on him; one more chopping right crashes forward.

The champion desperately throws up his guard, but too late. The punch slips through and hammers into the center of his chest.

BUGH!

Della Cruz loses his balance. His feet slide out from under him, and he drops onto the canvas, landing hard on his hips.

”WOOOOH!!!”

”DOWN GOES DELLA CRUZ!!”

The despair that had smothered Yoyogi Gymnasium vanishes in an instant.

The entire arena erupts. Thousands of spectators spring to their feet, their cheers crashing together into a thunderous roar that shakes the building.

”I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!!”

”KENTA MORIYAMA HAS TURNED THIS FIGHT UPSIDE DOWN!!”

”WHAT A COMBINATION! THE CHAMPION HAS BEEN FLOORED!”