VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA Chapter 252: Ryoma’s First Step Into the Ladder

The sa night, at Nakahara Boxing Gym.

Nakahara slumps back in his chair, arms folded, staring at nothing. Sera sits on the sofa, elbows on his knees, hair still damp from sweat.

For a long mont, neither speaks, until Sera exhales softly.

"Hard to believe I used to sit in that locker room too, you know."

Nakahara looks over.

Sera’s smile is thin, almost sheepish. "Feels like another life. You were always yelling at to tighten my guard, keep my back foot planted. I really thought... I’d get sowhere."

Nakahara snorts. "You would have. If you’d stayed."

Sera chuckles. "If my parents had let stay."

The silence returns, feels heavy and familiar. Nakahara reaches for his mug though he knows it’s empty.

"I had high hopes for you," he murmurs. "You had talent. Real talent. You read rhythm better than half the pros I trained."

Sera looks down at his hands. "And now you put that sa hope in the kid, huh?"

Nakahara doesn’t answer imdiately.

Sera smiles. "It’s alright. Ryoma deserves it."

At the ntion of his na, Nakahara straightens a little, rubbing his temple with two fingers.

Sera leans back. "Tonight proved it. That wasn’t a normal win. The stuff he pulled off? That wasn’t sothing you teach a fighter in a few months."

Nakahara raises an eyebrow. "Soviet-style foot trap? Yeah, that’s going to give people headaches."

"Not just that," Sera says. "The lullaby rhythm. The way he kept Sekino biting. I swear, when he pulled out that counter... I thought the fight was over right there."

Nakahara grunts. "...So did I."

They fall silent again, both rembering the mont, the shock, the roar, and Sekino sohow surviving it.

Sera shakes his head. "But Sekino... damn. What a performance. I’ve never seen soone that close to collapsing keep throwing like that. He made that fight what it was."

"Yeah," Nakahara says quietly. "Kid walked through fire today. Sekino forced it out of him."

Sera nods. "He’ll never forget that fight."

Nakahara sighs long and deep, leaning back again. "Speaking of the kid... your boy there had to drop a bomb at the end."

Sera laughs under his breath. "You an challenging the champion?"

Nakahara closes his eyes. "Don’t remind . I almost died on the spot."

"Well," Sera shrugs, "it made good headlines."

Nakahara narrows his eyes. "It was a joke."

"Yeah," Sera says, "and no one took it as one."

They share a tired laugh that doesn’t fully reach their eyes.

"So..." Sera exhales. "Contender list. You think he gets in?"

Nakahara’s expression darkens into skepticism. "Hard to say. He’s unranked. Six fights. Two majority decisions. No national tournant past Rookie level. Normally that’s nowhere near enough."

Then he pauses before adding:

"Beating a #10 doesn’t automatically make you a contender. Not officially."

Sera folds his arms. "True... but the list is weird right now."

"Weird?" Nakahara repeats. "Yeah... Retirent at #5. Two-year injury at #3. And that guy who left for OPBF hasn’t fought dostically for what, three years?"

Sera shrugs. "That’s basically three empty seats."

Nakahara rubs his brow. "Even so... I don’t want the kid getting ahead of himself. Let the JBC do what they do."

Sera gives him a look. "You know they will, right?"

Nakahara frowns. "Will what?"

"Rank him." Sera raises a finger. "JBC used his exhibition match to make money. They gave him the A-class spotlight. They hyped him. They marketed him. Tonight’s numbers are probably insane. He just beat a known veteran in a brutal, televised war."

A slow grin spreads on Sera’s face.

"They’re not passing up a new star while the division is starving."

Nakahara groans, but he doesn’t deny it, not even close.

Sera stands and stretches. "Face it, old man. Whether you like it or not... the kid’s getting pushed up the ladder."

Nakahara mutters, almost to himself, "...Damn troublemaking kid."

But there’s pride in his voice, and worry too, and the beginnings of sothing much bigger stirring in both their minds.

***

Two days later...

Nippon Fight News still buzzes even though it’s nearly 9 p.m. The office lights flicker against stacks of old fight magazines, coffee-stained printouts, and half-eaten convenience-store dinners.

Tanaka sits in his corner desk, the spot where old newspapers, empty cans, and unfiled docunts have naturally ford walls around him.

His tie is loosened. He types rapidly, muttering as he scrolls through notes and highlights.

"Rookie MVP... six wins... A-class exhibition... ten rounds of madness..."

He scratches his head hard enough to ruffle his thinning hair.

"And that damn kid ends the night by challenging the champion on cara. Good grief..."

He stops typing to take a sip of cold coffee, grimaces, and then keeps going.

"A contender retires... another out for two years..."

Tanaka scrolls further down his notes, squinting.

"...HirobumiSagawa still inactive dostically, three years without a Lightweight fight, and yet he just flattened Kim Jae-Ho, the Korean contender, over in the OPBF."

He shakes his head, tapping the line with his pen.

"That makes him the closest Japanese fighter to an OPBF title shot now. If he beats Declan McConnell next year, Japan will rule the region once more."

He leans back, stretching his arms. His fingers burst back onto the keys.

"Perfect. Headlines for days."

From across the room, a chair squeaks and rolls over. A young reporter with round glasses and a too-loud sweater sticks his head into Tanaka’s cave.

"Kiritani," Tanaka sighs without looking up, "what are you doing. Go ho."

Kiritani grins. "Can’t. I’m waiting for the digital team to send the Sekino post-fight dical update. Besides, I saw you pounding the keyboard like you’re trying to score a knockout. What’s got you hyped, Tanaka-san?"

Before Tanaka can answer, another coworker approaches, Miyu, tired-looking, always carrying two cans of black coffee.

She hands one to Tanaka without asking. "You’ll need this. The whole country’s talking about that fight."

Tanaka cracks it open imdiately. "They should be. That was the craziest Lightweight bout we’ve had in years."

Kiritani leans on Tanaka’s desk. "Well, the division is suddenly alive again. Did you hear? The OPBF #4 knocked out that Korean contender in four rounds. He’s actually getting close to a title shot."

"Yeah," Miyu adds, settling into a spare chair, "and half the YouTube channels are calling it the Lightweight Renaissance."

Tanaka snorts. "That’s because the JBC rankings have been a stale graveyard for years. Now everything’s shifting at once."

Kiritani nods enthusiastically. "Exactly! Retirents, injuries, OPBF movent... and now Ryoma Takeda blowing up the candidate list with one fight!"

Tanaka gives him a side-eye. "We don’t know if he made the list yet."

"Oh co on," Kiritani grins. "They have to put him in. A win like that? And the kid’s already a marketing goldmine. JBC loves that."

Miyu smirks. "Besides, your article basically declared him the future of the division."

Tanaka scoffs. "It was a balanced analysis."

Miyu reads off her phone. "You wrote, ’Japan may have just witnessed the birth of its next frontline star.’"

Tanaka grimaces. "...That was the editor’s headline. Don’t quote ."

Kiritani clicks his tongue. "Sure. Whatever you say."

The three lapse into quiet for a mont, each tapping or scrolling through their screens.

And then...

"Ah! Hey!" Kiritani suddenly yelps, almost falling out of his chair.

Miyu jolts. "What now?"

Kiritani spins his monitor around so both can see.

"The JBC just dropped an official update! Like... right now."

Tanaka pushes his chair closer, squinting. "Already? That’s fast for them."

Kiritani scrolls with an overdramatic flare. "Let’s see... Lightweight Division... contender list update... okay... oh! Oh wow."

Miyu leans in. "What? Who moved?"

Kiritani’s eyebrows shoot up.

"Well, first... Sekino’s out of the top ten. And Ryoma... ranked eight."

Miyu whistles. "Just like that?"

Tanaka slowly leans back in his chair, the ghost of a grin forming despite himself.

"...Number eight, huh? Guess I’d better rewrite the headline again."

Tanaka cracks open his knuckles and turns back to his keyboard.

"Biggest night in years," he murmurs. "And this kid’s right in the middle of it."

His fingers start typing again, faster, louder, and energized. The newsroom carries on, buzzing with talk of rankings, rivalries, injuries, resurgences.

Japan Boxing is alive again. And Ryoma Takeda’s na has just entered the gates.