VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

By the time Maria's official statement finishes making its way across television broadcasts, online news portals, and social media, the chaos surrounding NSN has begun to settle. It doesn't erase the fans' disappointment, but at least it puts an end to the endless speculation.

Throughout Tokyo, conversations continue long after office hours. Some people discuss the newly announced chusen system. Many simply accept that securing a seat inside the Tokyo Dome will now depend as much on luck as determination.

As the evening rush begins, those conversations naturally spill into restaurants, bars, and neighborhood izakaya where office workers gather to unwind after another exhausting day.

One such place sits only a few blocks away from NovaLink Media headquarters. Keisuke Ando and Kengo Hoshino occupy their usual seats at the counter while the owner silently places two glasses of draft beer in front of them.

"Tough day?" the owner asks with a grin.

"When isn't it?" Ando lets out a tired laugh before taking his first sip.

"At least your business is booming," Hoshino says. "Ours practically disappeared today."

The owner raises an eyebrow. "Did something happen?"

"Our drama campaign," Ando explains. "We spent weeks preparing it, and today it may as well not have existed."

"Everything got swallowed by Ryoma's world title fight," Hoshino adds. "News, trending topics, TV... all anyone talked about was NSN's servers crashing."

"Tell me about it," the owner says with a helpless laugh. "I'm probably not going to watch it either."

Ando looks up. "Why? There's still more than two months to get a ticket."

The owner shakes his head. "Not the tickets. The schedule. Ryoma's fight might start somewhere around two or three in the afternoon."

"...That early?" Ando asks.

"They're probably aiming for the American pay-per-view market," Hoshino says after a moment.

"That's my guess too," the owner replies. "From a business standpoint, it makes perfect sense. But I'll be standing right here behind this counter."

He taps the wooden counter lightly with one finger. "I missed Yoyogi for the same reason. Saturdays are our busiest days, and Tokyo Dome? Chances are, I'll be standing right here again."

Then he pours himself a glass of sake, drains it in one gulp, and lets out a quiet breath. "Even while becoming the biggest success Japanese boxing has ever seen, I'm afraid this one is going to disappoint a lot of people."

"How so?" Ando asks.

"The tickets, for starters," the owner raises a finger. "I'm convinced Tokyo Dome will sell out, and there'll still be thousands of people desperately looking for one."

He shrugs. "And there's the schedule, early in the afternoon, plenty of people still work on Saturdays. Restaurant staff. Retail workers. Taxi drivers. Bartenders... People who'd happily buy a ticket if only they could actually leave work."

Ando and Hoshino simply nod a few times. Neither says what is on his mind, yet the same thought quietly crosses both of them.

Suddenly, the owner laughs to himself, as though an absurd idea has just crossed his mind. "You know… watching the highlight clips is never enough. I want the whole thing."

"The whole thing?" Hoshino repeats.

"The opening atmosphere," the owner begins, growing more animated, "the undercard fights, the crowd slowly filling the arena, the walkouts... everything. Half the fun of going to a boxing event is being there long before the main event actually starts."

He grins before leaning a little closer toward the two men. "You guys are executives at NovaLink, aren't you? So why don't you make something like that?"

Ando turns to Hoshino with a puzzled glance, before looking back at the owner.

"A boxing program," The owner continues. "Every week is all about boxing. Not just highlights, but something that lets people experience everything surrounding the sport. If you ever make that, I'll subscribe without thinking twice."

Hoshino laughs. "You're making it sound harder than it is. Why not just put the live broadcast on here? One of the local stations is bound to air the main event."

The owner immediately shakes his head. "Not everyone who comes in here cares about boxing. I can't just force everyone to watch it because I'm a Ryoma fan. That'd be pretty selfish of me."

Ando and Hoshino simply nod, both recognizing that what the owner has just described may be nothing more than his own personal circumstance. Even so, neither of them can dismiss the possibility that countless others are facing similar situations.

Some families might end up arguing over the television because everyone wants to watch something different. Others could suddenly find their spouses suggesting a weekend outing or dinner at exactly the wrong time.

Whatever the reason, the result is ultimately the same. There are still countless people who genuinely want to watch a boxing fight live, yet circumstances entirely beyond their control will keep them away.

The thought quietly lingers between them until Ando suddenly lets out a light chuckle.

"You know what… I'll bring it up with my boss. Just pray your idea gets approved."

***

By the following afternoon, Ryoma is still training alone inside Ronin Gym, completely unaware that conversations sparked by his proposal continue unfolding elsewhere. Phantom Mode remains his only training partner, another projection of himself standing opposite him with a pair of focus mitts strapped over both hands, ready to accompany yet another solitary session.

Just like the previous day, the drill quickly settles into its familiar rhythm. The phantom never stops talking, and that endlessly irritating "Tight. Tight. Tight." continues arriving with impeccable timing, provoking Ryoma's aggression a little more with every exchange while gradually drawing him closer and closer toward the edge of the zone.

Ryoma expects exactly this outcome. It is the sole reason he chooses to repeat yesterday's drill. And this time, he has no intention of resisting the feeling.

He simply follows it, allowing himself to sink deeper into the zone, quietly testing whether he can remain there without surrendering the clarity of his mind.

And somehow, the phantom no longer behaves like an ordinary mitt holder. He looks ready to switch into a fighter at any moment.

"Whoa... easy. Easy."

The moment Ryoma's punches begin arriving before the verbal cues have even finished, the mitts stop presenting static targets. One immediately turns into a weapon, snapping toward Ryoma's head while the other still waits to receive the counter.

"Slip... upper!"

Ryoma slips the attack. But instead of throwing the instructed lead uppercut, a compact right hook shoots toward the phantom's jaw.

The projection ducks underneath it as though expecting the deviation, resets its stance, and immediately strikes back.

"Slip in. Slip out."

And again, before the mitt has even settled into position, Ryoma's counter is already flying.

Dsh!

The phantom's head jerks backward.

It gives ground, lifts both mitts again, then suddenly fires a crisp one-two-three combination instead of another coaching sequence.

Eventually, it becomes almost like a real fight. Ryoma slips every strike by inches before stepping forward with another counter.

But of course, the phantom is every bit as capable as Ryoma himself. It anticipates the counter without panic, meeting the punch cleanly with the mittpad.

Plak.

Another exchange begins almost immediately. This time, the phantom deliberately leaves a small opening, a trap.

Ryoma actually takes it, and…

Plak!

A mittpad cracks sharply across his jaw. It isn't a boxing glove, but a counter from Ryoma is still a counter. The impact snaps his head sideways and breaks his balance.

Only then does the phantom retreat several steps, lowering both mitts without taking its eyes off him.

"You good now?" it asks. "Ready to start listening again?"

Ryoma remains silent, but the wild intensity has disappeared from his eyes, replaced by the familiar sharpness that only returns once thought catches up with instinct again.

"...Damn it," he curses in irritation.

"It gets dangerous the moment instinct starts driving everything," the phantom says calmly. "It might have helped you so far. But what happens when you eventually run into someone just as calculating as you are?"

It raises one mitt. "Someone who understands exactly how your instincts work... and knows how to lure them into a counter."

Ryoma clicks his tongue, the irritation still obvious on his face. "You talk as if you're as good as I am. You landed one counter and suddenly you're acting all high and mighty."

The phantom's expression doesn't change. "I am as good as you."

Ryoma rolls his eyes. "Please."

"I'm not Coach Nakahara," the phantom replies evenly. "Nor am I one of the fighters you've reconstructed through Phantom Mode before. Those profiles are built from observation, recorded footage, statistical tendencies, and behavioral predictions."

It taps its own chest with a mitt. "This one is different. I have a complete database. Your habits, your tactical preferences, your creativity, your instincts, and the way you solve problems in the middle of a fight. No profile inside this system is as complete as yours."

The phantom holds Ryoma's gaze without the slightest hint of arrogance.

"You could say..." A faint smile finally appears. "I am you."

Ryoma says nothing. A moment ago, he had been looking at a training tool. Now he is standing face to face with something that dares to claim, I am you.

For reasons he cannot explain, the words send a chill crawling down his spine. As the Chameleon, he has always been the one stealing other people's weapons. Now he finds himself fearing that something could one day steal his very existence.

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