VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Indeed, the rest of the employees, including the coaching staff, have kept their distance from the building, watching the situation unfold from afar.

They are not simply avoiding the reporters outside. Some have already begun wondering whether loyalty is still worth much when the captain is sinking the ship himself.

”This is getting ridiculous,” one of the coaches says.

”Kamiya tried to warn him, and we all saw how that ended.” another employee replies.

”And now look at what’s happening,” another coach says. ”There are even reporters from other countries outside the gym too.”

”You think he’ll actually change his mind?”

”He’s too stubborn. He’ll probably keep insisting that he did nothing wrong until there’s nobody left here to defend him.”

”That’s the problem. If Ishimaru-san keeps refusing to acknowledge any responsibility, we’re the ones who’ll end up being dragged into this with him.”

Among them, one young fighter remains silent, listening carefully as the complaints around him gradually become more difficult to dismiss.

He is the gym’s biggest rising prospect, and the longer he listens, the more seriously he begins questioning what staying here might cost him.

For a young boxer, this is not merely another problem involving reporters. The chief second’s decisions can shape a career, and sometimes determine whether that career remains safe.

The irony is that none of them had been this concerned when the situation was someone else’s problem. Now that the consequences are approaching their own careers, suddenly everyone has discovered the value of responsibility.

Eventually, he decides that remaining with them is no longer worth the risk.

”I’m out of this,” he says, turning away.

”Hey, Asano! Where are you going?”

”You can’t just leave now.”

”You have a sparring session this afternoon.”

”I’m done,” Asano says, not even looking back. ”There’s fucking no way I can entrust my career to people like you.”

For a few seconds after Asano disappears, nobody says anything until one of the coaches exhales with exhaustion.

”He actually left.”

”After Umemoto, that’s the biggest prospect this gym has.”

”And that’s what worries me.”

The coach glances toward the building, where the reporters continue shouting outside.

”If Asano is already done with us, what do you think the others are going to do?”

”They’ll leave,” someone says. ”Maybe not today. But tomorrow?”

”And then what?” another coach asks. ”We just stand around and watch the whole gym fall apart?”

The conversation changes almost immediately. They are no longer complaining about Ishimaru. They are discussing what they can actually do.

”We need to talk to him.”

”He won’t listen.”

”Then make him listen.”

”Tell him exactly what happens if he keeps this up.”

”If he keeps being stubborn like this, we all leave too.”

For once, nobody objects. They have reached the point where staying quiet is beginning to look more dangerous than confronting their own boss.

”Alright… Let’s go.”

They begin walking toward the gym together, moving shoulder to shoulder, looking less like staff returning to work than survivors forcing their way through a crowd of hungry zombies.

For the first time that day, they are not trying to protect Ishimaru or the gym. They are trying to save themselves from being eaten alive.

***

While the scrutiny surrounding the fight has shifted almost entirely toward Ishimaru, life inside Ronin’s gym has become surprisingly peaceful.

Ryoma, despite still waiting for his purse and several contractual bonuses, shows no sign of being distracted by the money. His attention remains fixed on Aramaki’s development.

Nakahara has finally found three sparring partners suitable for the program. None are ranked professionals, but each is among the quickest local outboxers available in Japan.

Their instructions are simple: survive for three rounds. But that small detail makes the task considerably harder for Aramaki.

Since it’s just three rounds spar, they have no reason to conserve energy, no reason to pace themselves, and no reason to stay within range longer than necessary.

For that reason, the first sparring partner spends almost the entire opening minute moving laterally, touching Aramaki with quick jabs before immediately disappearing from his line.

Aramaki follows, but every step forward gives the boxer another opportunity to escape.

”Keep moving,” Ryoma calls from outside the ropes. ”Stay on him. Don’t let him breathe. Keep your head clear and make him work.”

Aramaki responds immediately, stepping forward with renewed urgency and keeping his feet constantly active.

He throws whenever an opening appears, sometimes launching combinations that look almost improvised, forcing his opponent to react before settling into rhythm.

Yet despite the apparent chaos, Aramaki never lets his weight carry too far forward. Every movement remains controlled enough for him to recover his stance and keep pressing.

From the outside, he looks almost reckless. Inside, he remains calm, constantly watching the reactions he is provoking.

Across the ring, the visiting coach shouts instructions to his own fighter, urging him to keep his feet moving and never allow Aramaki to establish his preferred distance.

”Stay outside, Mitchi! Make him turn!”

Meanwhile, two other visiting coaches watch from outside the ring with their fighters, waiting for their own turns.

”He’s making Aramaki work for every inch,” one of the coaches says. ”And look at him. It’s ruining his form.”

”Maybe they are experimenting with something new,” the other coach replies. ”And this is Ryoma Takeda we’re talking about.”

His fighter keeps watching as Aramaki continues pressing forward, throwing punches while maintaining a posture that looks increasingly unconventional.

”If Aramaki really intends to test himself at WBC level,” the fighter says. ”He needs to raise his game. Honestly, his current style is still too simple for world-class boxing.”

His coach nods slowly. ”Ryoma probably sees that too.”

”But if this is what the experiment looks like,” the other coach says, narrowing his eyes, ”he might end up ruining Aramaki’s form instead.”

Eventually, the first spar ends with Aramaki having landed only a handful of clean punches.

Across the ring, Mitchi and his coach exchange satisfied looks, clearly pleased with how well he has handled the pressure.

”Not bad, Mitchi. Not bad,” his coach says.

Mitchi shakes his head. ”Honestly, he had me confused for most of that round.”

His coach gives him an approving look. ”Being able to survive like that against the Japanese champion is no easy thing. But you did very well.”

Ryoma, meanwhile, does not look too much disappointed.

”Now you know how difficult it is when your opponent chooses to run from you for the entire fight,” Ryoma says.

”You think they can really keep that up for a full fight at world level?” Aramaki asks.

”Not all of them,” Ryoma replies. ”But you need to be ready for the ones who can.

During the break before the second sparring session begins, Kurogane approaches Ryoma and speaks quietly from behind him.

”Ryoma, remember we gave Ishimaru one week? Tomorrow is the deadline. If he still hasn’t paid, are we taking this to court?”

Ryoma barely looks at him. ”Don’t worry about it. The money isn’t going anywhere.”

As though the matter is barely worth another thought, he already turns back toward Aramaki.

”Get ready for the next one.”

”Already?”

Ryoma nods and immediately calls for the next sparring partner.

Kurogane’s expression tightens. He grabs Ryoma by his shoulder, and pulls him back slightly.

”Hey, Ryoma… this is millions of dollars we’re talking about.”

”I already told you. The money isn’t going anywhere.”

Ryoma simply turns away, already returning his attention to Aramaki as though the millions of dollars he is owed are hardly worth worrying about.

Inside, however, he is almost impatient to see how the scenarios he has already anticipated will begin unfolding exactly as he expects.