VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA - Chapter 602: Chaos in Yoyogi

Chapter 602: Chaos in Yoyogi

Every muscle in his face tightens; anger, contempt, and a sense of injustice writ large in his expression. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, but the tension radiates from him: a man forced to witness a verdict he refuses to accept, simmering with the urge to argue, to reclaim what he feels has been wronged.

Kiet’s eyes flare with fury. Without hesitation, he rushes toward the referee, who is guiding Ryoma to the red corner where Nakahara, Sera, and Hiroshi are already waiting.

Kiet’s voice erupts as he closes the distance. “That punch after the bell… he’s the one who should be punished!” He points a finger directly at Ryoma, eyes blazing with open disdain and contempt. “He hit my fighter after the bell! How is that fair?”

Ryoma’s eyes flick up, meeting Kiet’s accusing glare. For a heartbeat, the fire in Kiet’s fury washes over him. Ryoma’s jaw tightens slightly, fingers curling in his gloves, a quiet acknowledgment of the chaos.

The referee moves first, stepping closer to Kiet, unwavering. “The rules are clear. Disqualification isn’t about one single punch. It’s about the sequence of fouls. Thanid Kouthai’s conduct endangered the opponent and broke the rules repeatedly. The fight ended since that moment. No further argument changes that.”

Kiet’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t relent. “Sequence of fouls? Are you serious?” he snaps, voice sharp, venomous. “I admit my fighter lost his temper. This fight was brutal, chaotic… but a warning should have sufficed! Both fighters made mistakes. Disqualifying Thanid alone, while the other side gets off scot-free… I will never accept that!”

Ryoma steps forward, voice low but cutting through the tension. “Both fighters made mistakes? Tell me again which part was mine?” His eyes lock on Kiet, calm but unyielding. “Your fighter couldn’t handle me, and then resorted to blatant violence. Elbow, knee… If he can’t follow the boxing rules, just go back to the cage!”

Kiet freezes for half a heartbeat, then explodes, voice cracking with offense. “What did you just say, punk?!”

The tension snaps outward. The crowd notices; murmurs ripple through the arena, rising into a mix of cheers, boos, and shocked shouts. Cameras swing, capturing the verbal clash. Commentators raise their voices over the chaos.

“Whoa! This is escalating fast! Ryoma is not holding back!”

“Kiet is livid! He’s challenging the referee and now the champion!”

“The sequence of fouls argument is really getting heated. This is unprecedented for a post-fight disqualification.”

At the edge of the arena floor, movement begins to gather around the red corner. Ryohei reaches the ropes first, still flushed from his earlier fight, eyes sharp as he scans the center of the ring.

The lead commentator catches it immediately. “Hold on a second… that’s Ryohei Yamada at ringside! The JBC Super Lightweight Champion just showed up at the red corner.”

Kenta climbs up beside him, followed closely by Okabe and Aramaki, the four fighters crowding onto the apron without hesitation.

The analyst leans forward toward the monitor. “And now the rest of Nakahara Gym is coming in. Look at that… Okabe, Aramaki, and Kenta all up there. Kenta still looks fresh too, hardly surprising after that bizarre ending earlier when his opponent simply walked out of the ring after the bell.”

“They’re not stepping into the dispute,” the lead commentator says, “but they’re making sure their champion isn’t standing alone in there.”

A moment later, Kurogane appears behind them, with Coach Murakami close at his side. They approach quickly, drawn by the raised voices and the tension hanging over the ring.

One by one, they settle along the red corner ropes, silent but watchful, their presence forming a quiet wall behind Ryoma’s side of the ring.

Meanwhile, Nakahara and Hiroshi exchange baffled glances, unable to follow a word as Kiet and Ryoma trade their heated argument in English.

Only Sera understands, but he remains composed, watching quietly, confident that Ryoma can handle the situation on his own.

The referee doesn’t move, but the situation demands support. The ring advisor steps onto the apron, voice calm but authoritative.

“Mr. Anurak, please… just watch the replay. Look at what your fighter did. every illegal strike, every dangerous move. See for yourself.”

Kiet bristles, but the presence of authority slows him. Then the OPBF commissioner steps closer, eyes sharp, presence commanding.

“Thanid Kouthai committed blatant fouls,” he states, voice carrying across the ring. “Your camp must understand the risk your fighter created. Future matches, future ratings, they will all be affected if this behavior continues. The rules exist to protect the fighters, not to be debated in the ring.”

Ryoma stands back, observing, but the fire in his chest simmers. The arena continues to buzz with tension, the commentary desk now dissecting every angle of the argument, relaying the escalation to viewers in real time.

Kiet’s fists clench, a tight, audible hiss escaping between his teeth. He swallows, trying to control himself, but the fire in his eyes doesn’t dim.

The ring advisor then gestures subtly, guiding Kiet back, while the commissioner’s gaze holds him in check, leaving him no room to escalate further.

The murmurs of the crowd ripple through the arena, fragmented but potent. Some cheer for the champion’s victory, others howl at the perceived injustice.

The fight is over, but the arena still crackles with the energy of chaos, fury, and authority.

***

Eventually, the OPBF commissioner lifts a hand, signaling that the situation is under control. The tension in the ring slowly loosens. The referee remains watchful, standing between the two corners while officials and inspectors drift closer, quietly reinforcing the space.

From the apron, the ring announcer climbs through the ropes, microphone already in hand. His presence alone begins to settle the lingering argument.

Under normal circumstances, both fighters would be called to the center of the ring for the official decision. But tonight, after the chaos that had just unfolded, no one makes that attempt.

The two camps remain in their respective corners instead. Ryoma stands with Nakahara and his team in the red corner, calm but alert, while across the ring Thanid is held back by his corner, the anger still visible in their posture.

A few officials and arena security spread themselves across the canvas to ensure nothing flares up again.

The arena slowly settles. Then the ring announcer raises the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen…”

The murmurs fade as thousands of eyes turn toward the center of the ring.

“Referee Mark Harrington has called a stop to this contest due to repeated fouls committed by the blue corner. Therefore, the winner by disqualification… and still the champion…”

His voice rises. “Ryoma ’the Chameleon’ Takeda!”

The reaction detonates across the packed arena.

From one section, a thunderous roar erupts as the Cruel King Army, more than two thousand five hundred strong, explodes to its feet.

Their chants roll across the arena in waves, flags and banners shaking, voices rising together as they salute their champion.

“RYO-MA! RYO-MA! RYO-MA!”

On the eastern side, local supporters clap and shout their approval, some pounding the railings while others raise their phones to capture the moment.

Around the arena, the rest of the crowd begins to respond as well. Many had arrived tonight as neutral spectators, curious about the rising reputation of Nakahara Gym.

Now they watch the red corner with new respect. Five fighters from the same gym had stepped into this ring tonight, five victories.

And despite the chaos, the controversies, and the raw intensity that had nearly pushed the fight beyond the boundaries of the sport, the event had delivered exactly what the crowd had hoped for.

Inside the fully packed Yoyogi arena, the night had become something unforgettable. An electric spectacle of skill, fury, and drama that would echo in the memories of everyone present long after the last bell rang.

Even now, the arena still crackles with that energy.

On the aisle beside the ring, Thanid’s camp pushes through the narrow path toward the exit tunnel.

Kiet walks at the front, his expression twisted with anger that refuses to fade. He throws one last look back toward the ring, voice raised in bitter protest.

“This is a disgrace!” he shouts. “They couldn’t beat my champion, so they ruled him out. Just to protect their golden boy!”

His words carry across the aisle. But almost no one pays attention. The crowd’s focus remains fixed on the ring, where the celebration continues to swell.

“RYO-MA! RYO-MA! RYO-MA!”

The Cruel King Army answers with thunderous voices, their chants rolling through the arena in relentless waves.

Kiet’s lips curl with contempt, but the sound completely drowns him out. No one follows his outrage. No one echoes his protest.

Behind him, Thanid walks in silence. The chaos in his mind has begun to settle, replaced by a colder clarity.

He knows what happened. He knows the moment the fight slipped away; the elbows, the knees, the instant anger took control. He knows that mistake had cost him the fight.

His jaw tightens. The anger is still there, burning deep inside his chest; anger at himself for losing control, anger at the chants shaking the arena, calling Ryoma’s name again and again.

“RYO-MA! RYO-MA! RYO-MA!”

And anger at the bitter truth that five full rounds in the ring had led nowhere.

He had fought with everything he had. And even when he abandoned the rules, when he struck like a true Muay Thai warrior, it still hadn’t been enough.

And the chant continues to echo behind them.

“RYO-MA! RYO-MA! RYO-MA!”

Thanid keeps walking down the aisle toward the tunnel without looking back, the sound of that name pounding in his ears with every step.