VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA - Chapter 404: Permission To Risk

Chapter 404: Permission To Risk

Ryohei weighs the option as the sweat cooling along his spine. By the cards, he’s ahead with clean jabs, sharp flurries, head and body both marked. He can feel it in the rhythm, in how often Uchida’s guard comes up a half-beat late.

And yet, the red corner fighter doesn’t look hurt too much. He looks like someone who can take more.

It isn’t just about Uchida’s conditioning, that stubborn ability to absorb and stay upright. It’s also about Ryohei’s own boxing. All night he’s fought on moving legs, but that same movement bleeds force from his punches.

No planted feet, no hip drive, no weight sinking into the floor. All his punches only come from arms snapping out, precise but light.

He’s winning the rounds. But with this kind of boxing, he isn’t going to break his opponent.

“But if I’m going to try knocking him down…” Ryohei finally speaks, voice low. “That means I have to stay in range longer. Fight him up close. Plant myself enough to put real weight into my punches.”

He exhales. “That’s giving up my advantage. That’s fighting on his terms.”

“Or you do it with counters,” Sera finishes for him. “Lure him in with the pendulum. Let him commit first, then hit him when he overreaches. Use his momentum. That way you get impact even if your legs stay light.”

Nakahara exhales slowly, shaking his head, unconvinced. “I’ve seen Ryohei try to set counters before. It didn’t always work. And doing it off the pendulum, like what Ryoma and Kenta use… he’s never done that. He’s never trained for it.”

He looks Ryohei in the eye. “And you do know what happens if a counter fails, right?”

Ryohei goes quiet.

Counters always looked like a cool move in his head, sharp and decisive. He’d chased that feeling more than once.

And every failure had taught him the same lesson; miss the timing, and you eat the exchange, hardly.

But then, Okabe’s loss rises uninvited. The bad calls. The helplessness. The sense of having something taken from you. Ryohei doesn’t want that, not his fight too.

His gaze hardens as the thought settles. There may be no safe option left.

Finally, he nods once. But before he can speak…

“There’s another way,” Ryoma cuts in. “Less risky. Less convincing. But there’s still time. You can bet on this for the next two rounds.”

Nakahara turns. “What is it?”

“The same thing Iwata did to Ayano,” Ryoma says. “The thing I used to do.” He taps his own face lightly. “Aim for the right eye.”

Sera blinks, then nods as it clicks. “Right… Ryohei can do that. Uchida’s guard isn’t tight on the right. He’s always ready to throw back. His right glove stays low, and Ryohei’s already landed plenty of jabs on that side.”

“But it has to be precise this time,” Ryoma adds. “Not the cheek. Not the temple. The eye. Light, but snapping… like a whip.”

“Once that eye starts to close,” Sera continues, “Ryohei can stay inside longer. Throw heavier shots with less risk, working his blind side.”

Ryoma looks at Ryohei. “You can do it, right?”

Ryohei nods with a smile. “I can try. Let’s see if I can shut his right eye in the next two rounds.”

The decision has been made. Nakahara steps back first, clapping Ryohei once on the shoulder.

“All right,” he says quietly. “Focus.”

For a moment, Ryohei is alone, steadying his breath, while picturing how he’s going to take the fight next; jab snapping up, catching the eye, not hard, just sharp.

And then…

“Seconds out!”

The referee’s voice cuts clean through the din.

Ryoma picks up the bucket, glances at the red corner for a moment first, before stepping through the ropes.

Nakahara and Sera step down from the apron at once. Stools are pulled back.

The ropes are clear, the corners emptying until only the fighters remain beneath the lights, waiting for the bell.

Moments later…

Ding!

Round Five.

The bell rings, and Ryohei slips right back into himself.

Nothing dramatic changes. The pendulum returns, smooth and hypnotic, hips swaying just enough to keep Uchida fixed in the center like a post driven into canvas. The distance stays elastic, never quite where Uchida wants it.

Ryohei leads with the left more now, not heavy, nothing committed either; slapping shots flicked up toward the face.

Dug. Dug. Dsh!

Light and easily ignored.

Then a right cross flashes once, and a hook to the body follows…

Dug. Dug.

…just enough variety to keep the pattern blurred. And he doesn’t linger. No long breaks in the rhythm.

Uchida tries to hunt him, stepping in behind a punch, then another step forward, with another punch thrown.

Ryohei hops back smoothly, once, twice. But the sway never stops. He glides forward again, feet light, shoulders loose, and…

Left. Left. Left.

Dug. Dsh! Dug.

And one cross to the guard.

Dug.

He keeps the rhythm, lets Uchida chase him, and peppers the right side of his face every times he steps in.

Some strikes die on gloves. Others snap through, brushing brow and cheekbone, skimming close enough to make Uchida blink.

It’s not clean, not decisive. But it’s irritating enough, distracting. And the crowd starts murmuring as Uchida rubs at his face with his glove, eyes narrowing.

***

Ryohei keeps swinging, patient, persistent, aiming just a little higher each time. And he learns quickly that hitting an eye on a moving target isn’t clean science.

It’s stubborn work. And the focus costs him.

The more he commits to that narrow mark, the more his rhythm repeats. Uchida starts to read it, stepping in on the sway instead of waiting it out.

A short punch thumps into Ryohei’s shoulder…

Dug.

…halting his motion.

Before he can reset, another slips in tight, right under the armpit.

Thud!

Ryohei gives ground to keep space, but the ropes catch him first. Uchida crowds in, chest to chest now, digging hooks to the body.

Thud! Dug. Thud!

“Uchida finally traps him there,” one commentator says sharply.

“That’s what he’s been waiting for,” the other adds. “Cutting off the escape, forcing Ryohei to fight close… and those body shots are starting to find their mark.”

Still, there’s no panic. Ryohei ties him up for a heartbeat and snaps a left on the break…

Dsh!

…right at the eye.

“Smart work,” a commentator cuts in. “He knows exactly where he is, even under pressure. That jab on the break is veteran awareness.”

As the referee pulls them apart, Ryohei slides out, and steals the center back in one smooth turn.

Now Uchida’s back meets the ropes. And Ryohei flicks again.

Dsh! Dsh!

Both jabs land clean on the right eye.

“Oh, there it is!” the other commentator says, voice rising. “Two clean jabs right on the face. That’s no accident anymore. He’s found his target.”

The crowd stirs, excited by his clean work.

But Ryohei isn’t Ryoma. The footwork is there, the pendulum too, but the precision isn’t the same. Two rounds burn away like this. The eye swells, yes, but not enough.

Uchida’s eyelid is not even half shut.

Ding!

“Good, competitive round,” one commentator says, voice rising with the crowd. “Uchida had his moments there, especially inside. He finally found Ryohei a few times.”

“But I still lean blue corner,” the other replies. “Ryohei stayed busy, landed the cleaner shots, and finished the round strong. It’s close… but I’ve got it for him.”

That’s the bell ending the sixth round. Ryohei knows he’s still winning the last two rounds, but the margin feels thin, too thin to trust.

If what Ryoma said earlier it was true, that the fight is rigged just like they did to Okabe, they could just give these two rounds to Uchida.

He can’t be content with this yet.

***

As Ryohei walks back to his corner, his eyes flicking once toward the red corner. Coach Koichi is already smiling, nodding as if something has gone exactly according to plan. Like those rounds are really theirs.

“Tch!” Ryohei clicks his tongue. The doubt settles in for good.

Blue corner meets him at once. Nakahara guides him down onto the stool, firm but calm. “Ignore them. Sit. Breathe first.”

Ryohei exhales hard, elbows on his knees. “Two rounds,” he says quietly. “I couldn’t shut his right eye. It’s harder than I thought. The more I aimed for it, the more he caught me.”

Sera nods. “Focusing that much gives him a read. And if he can catch you like that…” He trails off. “That alone tells you he’s good.”

“And chasing a knockout only raises the risk,” Nakahara adds evenly.

Ryohei lifts his eyes toward them, breath still heavy but controlled. “So what now?” he asks. “Do I play it safe? Keep him chasing my shadow?”

Then his jaw tightens, something sharper breaking through. “Or do I go for it next round. Try to knock him down. I don’t mind setting up a counter.”

His voice remains steady, but the intent is unmistakable. He’s already leaning toward the risk, asking not for ideas, but for permission to take it.

He looks from Nakahara to Sera, and waits.