VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

The reporters continue shouting questions behind them as Ryoma and Kurogane enter their waiting van and drive away.

Kurogane chuckles from behind the wheel. ”You are getting fucking insane. First, you make Ramirez pay you thirty million dollars, and now you stop Cabello from getting his ten-million-dollar purse.”

Ryoma shrugs. ”Ramirez offered me the thirty million himself. He wanted my cooperation to reduce his prison sentence. And Cabello… It’s not like I stole his money. I just stopped Ronin from paying him that much.”

Kurogane laughs. ”And his championship belt.”

Ryoma tries to keep a straight face, pretending none of it affects him. But he fails miserably, and soon ends up laughing along with Kurogane.

Their laughter quickly becomes loud and completely unrestrained, with Kurogane nearly losing his composure behind the wheel and Ryoma laughing until he has to wipe his eyes.

For a moment, even the van seems to shake along with them, as though the vehicle itself has somehow joined in on the joke.

At one point, the van drifts dangerously close to another vehicle. The driver blasts the horn, and Kurogane immediately raises a hand in apology, forcing himself to suppress another burst of laughter.

Once the laughter finally settles, Kurogane’s expression becomes more thoughtful. ”Oh, there’s something else. I got a message from Sera. Sergei Volkov is already waiting for us at the office.”

He glances briefly toward Ryoma beside him. ”So? Are you going to accept their partnership offer?”

Ryoma gives a faint smile. ”You already know what I want. But I know you’re still going to say no.”

”Come on. Forget about Jean-Pascal Roy for a moment,” Kurogane says. ”Targeting the IBF title is the final step in this undisputed mission. It’s not because Roy is dangerous. The IBF itself is complicated. If you unify the WBO and IBF, you have to stay active defending both titles while chasing the other two. The WBO should be manageable, I think. But staying active with the IBF is difficult, especially for a fighter who has to go through weight cutting like you do. They have different rules.”

”Yeah, I know.” Ryoma looks at him. ”Stop treating me like some ignorant kid.”

Kurogane grins. ”Now listen to my idea. You’re going to like this one.”

Ryoma raises his eyebrows, his interest immediately apparent.

”Sergei’s proposal means you’ll have to make at least two title defenses before you can challenge Elliot, right?” Kurogane says. ”So here’s my suggestion. You take on a WBO contender who also holds a WBA ranking. I’m worried that, just as Sergei mentioned, the WBA champion might avoid you. You defend your WBO title while climbing the ladder in the WBA.”

Ryoma turns toward him. ”You’re thinking about building a route toward the mandatory challenger spot?”

”Exactly.”

”Already have someone in mind?”

”A few. And since they’re much more active in the WBA, their rankings are actually higher there.”

”Well, I’ll leave it to you. Whoever you pick, I’ll crush them.”

***

While the media in Tokyo remains focused on Ryoma and Ronin, those in western Japan are turning their attention to Shin-Osaka Teppan Boxing Gym.

Less than two weeks after Umemoto defeated Hamakawa at the Tokyo Dome to claim the interim JBC Super Lightweight title, he has already decided to vacate the title.

Inside the gym, a small press area has been arranged near the main training hall. Cameras and microphones fill the space, with reporters from Osaka and other parts of western Japan gathered tightly around the front.

At the center of the table sits Kogane Yasuoka, the manager, looking remarkably calm despite the attention surrounding his fighter. Beside him sits Kimitada Umemoto, carrying himself with an almost absurd sense of composure, looking like the MC of a show in which the entire universe has somehow arranged itself around him.

At the end of the table sits Chairman Goro Ishimaru, who now leans toward the microphones, ready to deliver the official statement.

”Shin-Osaka Teppan Boxing Gym officially announces that Umemoto Kimitada has relinquished his JBC interim Super Lightweight championship. He will therefore vacate his position in the division and begin his campaign at world stage.”

Ishimaru pauses briefly before continuing. ”His next bout has already been scheduled for November 17, 2018, against Mexican contender Diego Valenzuela. The bout will take place here in Osaka and will be sanctioned by both the WBO and WBA as a ranking bout.”

A reporter raises his hand. ”Chairman Ishimaru, Diego Valenzuela is a Lightweight contender. Umemoto has spent his career competing at Super Lightweight. Is this officially his move down to Lightweight?”

Ishimaru nods. ”Yes. Umemoto has decided to leave Super Lightweight behind. His November bout against Valenzuela will be his first official contest at Lightweight.”

A murmur spreads through the room. Several reporters exchange knowing looks. The announcement makes the direction of Umemoto’s ambitions considerably clearer than the statement itself.

Another reporter raises his microphone. ”Then what about Ryohei? He’s still the JBC Super Lightweight champion, although he’s currently inactive because of his injury. Aren’t you interested in eventually having a rematch with him and clearing your name after your previous defeat?”

Umemoto leans back, a faintly arrogant smile appearing on his face. ”You still think that Tokyo Dome fight was about getting revenge on Ryohei?”

He looks across the room. ”That fight was supposed to humiliate Ryohei and Ronin. They spent years acting as though they were the kings of Japanese boxing. And you all remember the bet we made.”

A reporter speaks up. ”Unfortunately, Ryohei was injured.”

Umemoto gives a short laugh. ”Yes. Ryohei’s injury saved Ronin from a greater humiliation. But I’m not going to waste my time waiting for him to recover. I’ll say this clearly so nobody misunderstands me.”

Umemoto leans toward the microphone. ”My target now is Ryoma Takeda. Once I destroy him in the ring, that will be proof enough. Beating Ryoma would be as good as beating Ronin itself. And once I do that, my defeat against Ryohei won’t mean a damn thing anymore.”

The statement quickly becomes the centerpiece of boxing coverage across western Japan. It cannot match the frenzy surrounding Ryoma’s victory over Cabello, which has already dominated the national boxing scene through the fight itself, the ten-million-dollar purse dispute, and Cabello’s disciplinary case.

But western Japanese media seize on Umemoto’s challenge and begin pushing the rivalry aggressively, framing it as a new collision between two rising champions with unfinished business between their camps.

The story spreads through sports columns, television segments, and boxing forums, with Umemoto’s name increasingly appearing alongside Ryoma’s.

It takes a little longer to reach Tokyo, but eventually, the coverage reaches Ronin Fight Management as well.

Nakahara stands with his arms folded, his expression sour as he watches the television coverage replay Umemoto’s remarks.

”Someone needs to do something about that man before he gets too comfortable running his mouth,” he says.

Kurogane glances toward Ryoma with a knowing smile, the look carrying just enough teasing to make Ryoma immediately notice it.

”What the hell is that look for? Don’t tell me this is my problem now.”

”Well, Ryohei is inactive, and the man himself has left Super Lightweight just to chase you.”

”That has nothing to do with me,” Ryoma replies. ”You worry about my next title defense. Have you arranged it yet?”

Kurogane gets to his feet and walks over to his desk. He picks up a folder and places it in front of Ryoma.

”As a matter of fact, I have.” Kurogane taps the folder. ”Malik Adebayo. He’s Nigerian-born, but based in London now. He’s ranked seventh by the WBO, but because he’s been more active in the WBA, he’s currently ranked fifth there.”

Ryoma opens the folder and studies the profile. The photograph shows Adebayo standing squarely before the camera, broad-shouldered and heavily built, with an athletic frame that makes his physical strength immediately apparent.

”I’ve already secured WBA approval for the bout to be sanctioned as a WBA ranking bout as well,” Kurogane adds.

Ryoma keeps studying the photograph, a faintly intrigued expression appearing on his face.

This will be his first time facing a fighter of African descent, and the reputation of African fighters for exceptional physical gifts makes the matchup particularly intriguing to him.

There is something about Adebayo’s physique alone that makes Ryoma look at the photograph a little longer than necessary.

”So if I beat him, I can move into the WBA top five?”

”That’s the theory,” Kurogane says.

Then, as though he is deliberately trying to provoke Ryoma a little further, he adds:

”And if you’re interested, Umemoto’s next fight is being sanctioned by both the WBO and the WBA too.”

Ryoma scoffs. ”So he’s aiming for both titles too, huh? Or perhaps you leaked our strategy to them, and now they’ve conveniently found a way to interfere with my business?”

Kurogane takes the accusation lightly, shrugging with a faint smile. ”I’ve been warning you about him for a long time. When it comes to ambition, I’d say Umemoto is even crazier than you. He’d probably fight for nothing if it meant proving he was the strongest. Ever since I started working with him, he’s been talking about becoming undisputed, the strongest pound-for-pound fighter in the world. And he has no interest in doing it in a quiet little pond.”