VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Della Cruz immediately forces himself back to his feet. But the moment he straightens, his balance betrays him.

His vision tilts, forcing him to stagger two awkward steps backward before catching himself against the ropes.

The referee follows him, keeping the count.

”Five…”

”Six…”

Della Cruz keeps one glove on the top rope, taking a slow breath before looking back with steady eyes.

Then he releases the ropes and puts on his guard.

”...stop the count already. I’m fine!”

The ref steps back, and commences to resume the fight.

”Box!”

The champion’s gaze immediately locks onto Kenta. Frustration burns across his face. It isn’t the knockdown itself that angers him. It’s how it happened.

He wasn’t beaten by power. He was beaten by deception. For a man like him, being fooled hurt his ego more than his body.

”Damn it...”

”He showed me the peek-a-boo... and I took the bait.”

”I thought he was committing to an infighter’s game.”

”Instead, he kept using those same compact straights.”

”And the moment I adjusted... he turned the whole thing into a trap.”

Della Cruz heads straight for the center, his gloves hanging lower than before. Rather than recovering first, he’s determined to answer the knockdown immediately.

”Well... he beats the count!”

”He’s up, but I don’t know if he’s fully recovered.”

Kenta walks out of his corner, quietly studying the frustration written across the champion’s face. And as he does, Ryoma’s final words back in the locker room echo through his mind once again.

Even textbook boxing can be just as unpredictable as an unorthodox style...

...if you make your opponent fight a battle he never prepared for.

He just did exactly that. And now the champion’s ego is clearly wounded. The unexpected sequence didn’t just catch Della Cruz physically; it got into his head as well.

And Kenta is willing to bet what comes next. The champion won’t simply try to win the next exchange. He’ll want to erase the humiliation, to prove he isn’t foolish enough to fall for the same trick twice.

***

Just before they meet again at center ring, Della Cruz begins moving differently. His head slips constantly from side to side. His shoulders twitch with subtle rhythm. Both gloves start flashing a wider variety of feints.

None of it had appeared during the first eight rounds. And the intention is obvious. He’s making every entry harder to read, refusing to give Kenta another chance to lure him into the same trap again.

”You can tell Della Cruz is giving Moriyama far more respect now.”

”Absolutely. Those extra feints... that’s the behavior of a champion who’s been forced to rethink his opponent.”

”For the first time tonight, he’s entering cautiously.”

Knowing the champion is trying to impose a battle of feints, Kenta simply settles back into his lazy pendulum rhythm.

His shoulders sway with every bounce. His gloves rest around chest level, his left slightly extended, drifting along with the rhythm, creating a language of their own that completely ignores whatever Della Cruz is trying to sell.

As he rocks back and forth, Kenta keeps tossing hesitant punches with both hands, never fully extending them, never fully retracting them either.

”You want to play mind games?”

”Fine with me.”

”I’ll drag this fight into my rhythm.”

Then he bounces in.

Pat!

Pat!

Della Cruz cocks the right hand, then twitches a feint with the left.

But Kenta doesn’t react. He simply bounces back, shoulders swaying lazily before drifting sideways again.

Once more, he steps in.

Pat!

Pat!

Back out, and then circles, and then steps in again.

Pat!

Pat!

Pat!

And back outside.

Little by little, the champion’s rhythm changes. Della Cruz begins waiting for Kenta’s entry rather than looking for his own opening.

”Do you see what’s happening here?”

”The pace has completely changed.”

”Della Cruz isn’t dictating the rhythm anymore.”

The aggressor becomes the reactor. The suffocating pressure that dominated the first eight rounds quietly disappears, replaced by a tense chess match where neither man wants to commit first.

Finally, Della Cruz catches Kenta’s entry pattern. He blocks the slapping left first, and rips a heavy left hook into the ribs.

Thud!

The body shot lands clean.

”Got you!”

Kenta’s feet stop, and the champion instantly whips a right hook upstairs.

But Kenta ignores it completely, forcing a compact left uppercut through the middle.

DHUACK!

The uppercut snaps Della Cruz’s chin first.

Only afterward...

DSH!

...the hook crash into the side of Kenta’s head.

”Della Cruz finally found the opening... and he still couldn’t stop the counter!”

”That’s the problem he’s facing now. Every clean attack comes with a price.”

Della Cruz’s head jerks upward. Grinding his teeth, he immediately sends another savage combination; left hook upstairs, right hook downstairs.

Kenta sinks lower, catching the first on a raised right shoulder.

Dug.

But he doesn’t even bother defending the second, again forcing a right from below.

The hook buries itself in his ribs…

THUD!

But the uppercut lifts Della Cruz’s head once again.

DHUACK!

”He did it again!”

”Moriyama willingly traded another clean shot just to land his own!”

”This has become a battle of nerve as much as skill!”

The champion stumbles. The accumulated punishment is beginning to betray him. And Kenta steps forward immediately.

As Della Cruz raises both gloves into a tight shell, Kenta suddenly traps them with his own hands, almost like a clinch.

But instead of holding, he jerks both gloves downward, and sneaks a short punch around the side of the head.

Dsh!

Then he gives him a firm shove. The exact same trick Della Cruz had been using all day is now being used against him.

Kenta doesn’t chase the finish. He knows the champion isn’t going down that easily. He just focuses on investing in the future, weakening his opponent as much as he could.

When Della Cruz raises his guard high, Kenta pounds the body.

BAM!

BAM!

Seeing both gloves busy downstairs, the champion fires another right hook toward the head.

DSH!

But again, Kenta accepts the trade, adding another body slam and a compact upper.

BAM!

DHUACK!!

”OH, THEY TRADED AGAIN!”

Della Cruz staggers backward once more. The knockdown he refused to recover from begins catching up with him. He’s pushed to the ropes, and forced into a tight turtle guard.

Kenta keeps working the body, leaving his own head completely exposed.

BUGH! THUD! BUGH!

Dug. Dug. THUD! BUGH! BAM! Dugh.

Every shot draws another explosion from the stands, the deafening chants rolling through the arena as Kenta continues hammering away at the champion.

”Listen to this crowd!”

”Just a few minutes ago this arena was drowning in despair... and now they’re trying to carry Moriyama across the finish line!”

As Kenta’s hands are busy working on the body, Della Cruz sees the opening on the head. The challenger’s head is right there, but the champion can’t bring himself to take it.

The repeated dual exchanges have planted themselves deep in Della Cruz’s mind. Every time he aimed upstairs, Kenta kept dragging him into simultaneous trade, and every one of those trades has gone against him.

So instead of gambling again, the champion keeps his guard tight, doing everything he can just to survive until the bell.

From the red corner, Hermosa slams both palms against the apron.

”Hang on, Arvin! Just survive this round! Get back to me first!”

Della Cruz hears him. Yet with every body shot, his guard sinks a little lower. The punishment to the ribs and midsection is becoming unbearable.

And eventually...

DSH!

A left hook crashes into the side of his head.

His body lurches sideways. His balance gives way. His guard finally falls apart.

”Damn it...”

”How did it turn into this?”

Out of desperation, Della Cruz swings a massive right hook, bracing himself for yet another dual exchange.

But this time, Kenta simply takes a subtle step back. The lazy pendulum rhythm comes back to life, and the hook tears through nothing but empty air.

Della Cruz’s own momentum leaves him completely exposed.

”What the heck…”

Kenta plants his feet, and the smashing right hand explodes toward his face.

Della Cruz sees it coming. And this time, he doesn’t even try to avoid it.

”...God.”

”I don’t even care anymore.”

BHUAK!!!

”OH MY… HE GOT HIM AGAIN!!”

”DELLA CRUZ ISN’T EVEN… HE DIDN’T… HE JUST TOOK IT!”

Blood and sweat spray through the air as his head snaps violently backward. His vision flashes white, the lights above Yoyogi Gymnasium filling everything he can see.

The ropes stop him from collapsing outright, bouncing his body upright again. And Kenta is already there, adding two more punches into the champion’s face.

DSH!

BAM!!!

”Another left!”

”Another right!”

”He doesn’t even show any mercy up there!!!”

Seeing Della Cruz completely defenseless, the referee dives in without hesitation, grabbing Kenta by both arms and pulling him away.

The champion slumps against the ropes, one arm hooked over the top strand beneath his armpit. His face is a mess of blood and sweat, his eyes unfocused.

The referee takes one look, and then shakes his head, waving both arms.

”HE’S STOPPED IT!! HE’S STOPPED THE FIGHT!!”

Yoyogi Gymnasium detonates. The deafening roar crashes through the arena as tens of thousands of spectators leap to their feet.

”KENTA!”

”KENTA!”

”KENTA!”

The eruption so violent it drowns out the bell, the referee, and almost everything else inside the building.

”Kenta Moriyama has done the impossible!!”

”From a knockdown... to a comeback... to a technical knockout over the regional champion!!”

”What a turnaround!! What a performance!!”

”He was on the brink of defeat just two rounds ago... and now he’s standing over Arvin Della Cruz!!”

”Ladies and gentlemen, you have just witnessed one of the greatest comebacks you’ll ever see inside a boxing ring!!”