VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Ramirez emerges from the courthouse with his wrists still cuffed, escorted by court officers as reporters immediately surround him. Microphones are pushed forward and questions erupt from every direction, but he keeps his head down and refuses to answer.

Before the attention can settle, another wave of cameras turns toward the entrance as Cabello steps outside with Rivera behind him, instantly becoming the new focus of the reporters.

”Mr. Cabello! Are you still prepared to fight Ryoma?”

”Many people believe Hugo Ramirez acted because you were afraid of Ryoma. What’s your response?”

”Are you relieved you weren’t implicated in today’s case?”

”Has this scandal affected your preparation?”

Cabello lets the questions pile up before answering with an amused smile.

”Apparently none of you were listening,” he says. ”After I beat Renji, I publicly said I wanted Ryoma. After I won the WBO title, I said exactly the same thing. Hugo Ramirez’s fear of Ryoma has nothing to do with me.”

Another reporter immediately presses him. ”So you’re not afraid of facing him?”

Cabello lets out a quiet chuckle. ”Ryoma is a phenomenal fighter. Does that make me afraid? Don’t make me laugh. When I embarrass him in front of fifty-five thousand Japanese fans, I only hope you won’t hate me any more than you already do.”

Pens immediately race across notebooks as cameras continue flashing, knowing Cabello’s words will dominate headlines.

Ryoma hears the response but shows no reaction. Instead of giving reporters another story, he uses their distraction to slip away toward his van.

Before he reaches the parking area, a man steps directly into his path.

”Takeda-san.”

Ryoma slows without stopping.

”Takeda-san, please. I’ve been supporting you for more than three years. I deserve better than this.”

”What are you talking about?”

”The tickets,” the man snaps. ”I’ve followed you from the beginning, yet I couldn’t get one. Only thirty-three thousand tickets are gone, but the arena holds fifty-five thousand. I know you’re keeping the rest to create artificial scarcity so you can sell them later.”

Ryoma responds to him while continues walking. ”Ticket sales aren’t my responsibility. And I think you got something wrong. Before the lottery even began, more than twenty thousand tickets were sold. There were only five thousand seats left after the second stage of lottery. I actually reserved those seats exclusively for official Cruel King Army members.”

”Bullshit. If that’s true, then why didn’t I get one?”

Ryoma finally stops and looks him in the eye. ”You said you’ve been a member for more than three years. But Cruel King Army hasn’t even existed that long.”

The man’s expression freezes. Ryoma simply shoves him aside, pulls the van door open, and then points a finger at the man’s face.

”If you’re going to pretend to be one of my supporters... at least do your homework.”

Ryoma climbs into the van and drives away, leaving the man standing alone in the parking lot.

The man remains standing there, his humiliation lingering far longer than the shove itself. And slowly, his disappointment hardens into something far uglier, far more dangerous.

***

Because the compensation agreement with Ramirez still requires legal formalities, Ryoma is forced to remain in Tokyo for a few more days. Rather than letting the delay disrupt his preparation, he pushes himself harder in training.

Before dawn, he extends his usual roadwork, maintaining a harsher pace until he arrives at the gym drenched in sweat. His conditioning follows the same pattern, with longer drills, additional repetitions, and extra rounds added without hesitation.

Nearly an hour later, the entrance door quietly opens, and Ryoma glances over just long enough to recognize Ryohei.

”What are you doing here?” he asks flatly.

Ryohei ignores him. He drops his training bag onto a nearby bench, unzips his jacket, and reveals a T-shirt already soaked with sweat from morning roadwork. He picks up a skipping rope and begins warming up on the opposite side of the gym.

Ryoma watches him for a brief moment before letting out a quiet scoff. ”I thought you’d already quit. Figured even you couldn’t stomach that kind of humiliation.”

Ryohei never looks over. The skipping rope keeps turning beneath his feet with steady rhythm, as though the remark has never reached his ears.

Silence settles over the gym for almost half an hour, broken only by the dull thuds of leather against leather as Ryoma has moved the drill to punching the bag.

Meanwhile, Ryohei lasts another several minutes before his patience finally runs out. He starts wrapping his hands, puts on his headgear and gloves, then climbs onto the ring.

”Hey. Spar with me.”

But Ryoma doesn’t even look at him. ”I’m not interested in wasting rounds on someone who runs away when it matters.”

The words hit harder than any punch. Ryohei slowly removes the mouthpiece, his jaw tightening.

”You think that’s all I am?”

”You show me nothing but weakness and cowardice.”

”Look, punk. I’ve had enough of your bullshit. Get up here and settle this like men.”

Ryoma snorts. ”I don’t have anything left to settle with a coward.”

”You keep calling me a coward. You just don’t know what I was dealing with.”

Ryoma finally stops and starts walking toward the exit. ”Honestly, roadwork is a far better use of my time than punching someone who’s already proven he’ll run the moment life gets difficult.”

Ryohei pulls out his gloves, climbs down from the ring and hurries after him, refusing to let the conversation die there.

”If you’re going to keep calling me a coward, then face me!”

But Ryoma never slows his pace. He pushes the glass door open and steps outside.

”Ryoma! Stop avoiding me!”

”Go home.”

”Not until you listen to me.”

Before Ryohei can continue, something on his right catches his attention.

Near the edge of the sidewalk, a man wearing a beanie steps forward from behind Ryoma’s path, his hand pulling a sharp object from beneath his jacket.

The murderous intent in his expression is impossible to miss. He isn’t approaching by chance. He is aiming for Ryoma.

For a brief moment, Ryohei forgets to breathe. Now he finally understands the kind of world Ryoma has been forced to live in: one where even walking outside his own gym means accepting that danger could be waiting nearby.

Before he can make sense of that realization, his body moves on its own.

”Hey, you brat! Watch out!”

The warning reaches Ryoma at the same moment an inexplicable chill races down his spine. Goosebumps erupt across the back of his neck.

Ryoma spins around on pure instinct. The first thing he sees is Ryohei rushing straight toward him, his expression twisted with urgency.

To Ryoma, however, it looks exactly like the reckless charge of someone who has finally lost control. And his reaction comes almost automatically.

Ryoma drives one hand into Ryohei’s throat and stops him in his tracks.

”What the hell are you…?”

But the words never leave his mouth as he notices the figure near Ryohei, standing motionless with his hands pressed into Ryohei’s side beneath the ribs.

Ryoma cannot see what has been driven into Ryohei’s side. The only thing he immediately recognizes is that the person is the same man who confronted him outside the courthouse yesterday.

”You…?!”

Their eyes meet, and the man’s face drains of color. He instinctively stumbles backward, his hands trembling uncontrollably.

Ryoma’s gaze drop to Ryohei’s side. Now he sees the handle of a knife, while the rest of the blade has disappeared completely beneath the wound.

The moment Ryoma’s eyes lock back onto him, the man already turns around and runs.

”HEY!!!!”

The first instinct is to go after him, but before Ryoma can move, Ryohei’s legs give out. Ryoma immediately catches him, lowering him carefully as his own expression finally cracks.

”Damn, brat...” Ryohei mutters.

”Calm down, Ryohei. Don’t talk,” Ryoma says, though his own voice is far from steady.

Ryohei lets out a weak scoff, but the sound quickly turns into a sharp breath as the pain catches up with him.

”What was that...?” he asks, his voice strained. ”What hit me?”

Ryoma does not answer. Instead, he immediately turns his head toward the street and shouts.

”Someone call an ambulance!”

***

Across the street, two people inside a small coffee shop slowly lean out from the entrance, their expressions filled with confusion and curiosity as they try to understand what has happened.

A few others begin stepping out from nearby stores, drawn by the commotion, though most remain several meters away, watching rather than approaching.

At least one person pulls out a phone and begins speaking urgently, already calling for help.

”There’s been an attack outside Nakahara’s Gym. Someone has been stabbed. Please send an ambulance quickly.”

Meanwhile, Ryohei continues struggling against the pain. One hand slowly moves toward his side, but Ryoma immediately catches his wrist and stops him.

”Stay still,” Ryoma says. ”You’re going to be fine.”

Despite his condition, Ryohei forces out a weak laugh. ”Fine? You keep telling me to calm down, but look at your face. You look miserable.”

Ryoma’s expression tightens. He tries to maintain his composure despite the fear creeping through him.

”What are you talking about? I’m just tired. That’s all. So stop worrying about me.”

For a moment, Ryohei still tries to hold onto the humor, but the pain makes it harder with every passing second. The fear he has been suppressing finally begins breaking through.

”Hey, Ryoma...” His voice becomes quieter. ”Am I going to die?”

”Stop talking, Ryohei.” Ryoma briefly looks toward the wound, forcing himself to stay calm. ”Yes, you got stabbed, but it’s not dangerous. It didn’t hit anything vital. Just stay calm.”

”Yeah...” Ryohei exhales weakly. ”You’re right.”

Ryohei manages a small smile, his breathing gradually settling. Then his expression changes. The smile disappears, and tears begin forming in his eyes.

”I’m a coward...” he whispers. ”I thought...”

Ryohei swallows, struggling to speak through the pain. ”I thought I just did the bravest thing a man could do.”

His voice trembles. ”But Ryoma... I’m scared. I don’t wanna die.”