VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

With the surprise Ryoma unveiled in the opening round no longer a factor, Liam calmly walks to the center of the ring with a clear plan in mind.

He plants both feet, raises his high guard, and silently invites Ryoma to keep working.

"Come on, kid."

"Let's see how long you can keep this up."

Across from him, Ryoma no longer thinks about ending the fight early. Chasing a knockdown against someone this experienced is simply unrealistic.

"Let's build the damage first."

"One punch at a time."

He glides into range behind a probing jab, with a straight follows, both punches land harmlessly on forearms.

Dug.

Dug.

After a few attempts, the result is the same. Liam stays discipline with his guard, not giving any opening upstairs.

Ryoma then shifts his lead foot half a step outside, changing the angle before whipping a short left hook toward the ribs.

Liam sees it coming, and ready for a dual exchange.

Thud!

The body shot lands, and Liam answers immediately with a compact left hook.

Swssh!

Ryoma pulls his head in time, but it forces him to leave early.

"...Damn."

He resets, but Liam doesn't chase; he simply returns to the middle of the ring, high guard unchanged.

"Come kid… try it again."

Ryoma sends another one-two, both meet gloves.

Dug. Dug.

He circles, changes the angle, then steps inside once more.

Dug.

Thud!

Another hook lands to the body.

And again, Liam immediately fires back with short hooks, left and right.

Ryoma slips outside both…

Swssh! Swssh!

And once more, he's forced to abandon the exchange before building anything meaningful.

"He's not making it easy, huh?"

Ryoma spends the next minute patiently accumulating what damage he can. Sharp straights repeatedly pound against the guard, with only the occasional clean shot sneaking through.

And every time he closes the distance, however, Liam answers with compact hooks that force him to reset before continuing.

But Liam isn't being passive for the sake of it. He's waiting for his moment. After spending more than two minutes letting Ryoma dictate the pace and do the work, he finally drops his guard.

Ryoma's pace declines. His breathing remains controlled, but there is finally a hint that he wants a moment to settle.

Liam lowers his guard a bit more, deliberately offering a small opening while quietly studying Ryoma's condition.

What's wrong, kid?

Trying to catch your breath?

"If you won't come... then it's my turn."

"I won't let you stop working."

The pace changes instantly as Liam steps in behind compact punch after compact punch, keeping his rhythm tight. The pressure isn't reckless, but it is relentless, forcing Ryoma to defend first before countering.

Ryoma slips, rolls, parries, and then fires a compact counter.

A quick left catches Liam.

Dsh!

Another straight follows, but Liam blocks it well.

Dug.

And none of it slows the Canadian's advance for long. He keeps striking with combination of short punches.

Ryoma blocks, slips, and rolls beautifully.

Swssh! Dug.

Swssh! Dud. Dug. Dug. Swssh!

But he's forced to use his legs far more than he'd like. Even so, he continues sneaking in small counters after every few defensive maneuvers.

First, a small check to the side of the head.

Dsh!

"Ryoma is defending brilliantly, but notice the difference. Earlier, he was dictating every exchange. Now he's reacting first."

"And somehow he's still finding counters in between all that!"

Liam continues the assaults, and Ryoma defends well.

Dug. Dug. Swssh!

Then after ducking under a hook, he sends two blows to the body

Thud! Bugh!

Yoyogi Gymnasium explodes with applause. The crowd can barely keep up with the pace, cheering every clean defensive maneuver.

Yet every exchange now demands constant movement, denying him even a brief chance to regulate his breathing.

Even the blocked punches continue to jolt his body, with Liam deliberately driving them through the guard with enough force to wear him down.

***

By the time the bell ends the round, Ryoma has clearly won it on points. He has accomplished exactly what he intended, except for one thing.

The damage he had been patiently building is barely noticeable. Liam O'Connell walks back to his corner looking remarkably composed.

Ryoma drops onto the stool and immediately lets out a quiet breath through his nose.

"I'll say this. He's really good at taking punches."

Nakahara chuckles softly. "That's quite a compliment coming from you."

He hands him the water bottle and waits until Ryoma rinses his mouth before speaking again.

"Your performance has been excellent, so don't let yourself get frustrated. Slow your breathing. Clear your mind."

He then gestures calmly with one hand. "A fight against someone like Liam O'Connell is always a long game. It's as much about managing your stamina and your emotions as it is about landing punches."

Ryoma takes a long steady breath, and then nods.

"...Got it."

***

The third round follows almost the exact same pattern. Ryoma patiently continues building cumulative damage, slipping in the occasional clean counter between countless punches caught on Liam's guard.

Every attempt to stay in the pocket after a body shot is immediately met by Liam's compact retaliation, forcing him back outside.

Then, just as before, Liam spends the final minute pressing forward, making Ryoma work without pause.

And even with Ryoma wining the round convincingly on points, when the bell rings, Liam walks back to his corner looking almost as fresh as he did three minutes earlier.

The fourth round unfolds in much the same way.

"What a performance by Ryoma Takeda!"

"His defense has been absolutely mesmerizing!"

"Every slip, every roll, every counter… it's textbook boxing at the highest level!"

"And listen to this crowd! They're applauding every exchange!"

And indeed, Yoyogi Gymnasium is electric. Every slick defensive maneuver from Ryoma, every sharp counter he sneaks through Liam's pressure, draws another explosion of cheers and applause from the stands.

Yet Ryoma isn't satisfied. Midway through the second minute, he suddenly takes a step back to reset, his gloves dropping below chest level as a hint of disinterest crosses his face.

"If this keeps going..."

"...I'll end up in the same situation Cabello did."

While Liam remains planted at center ring, hidden behind his high guard, Ryoma circles around him at a measured pace while quietly reconsiders his options.

Behind his calm expression, Ryoma's mind is already racing far ahead of the present. One after another, unfavorable scenarios begin taking shape, branching and multiplying inside his superhuman cognition, each unfolding like a rapid-fire simulation of the future.

Round five, my pace starts dropping.

Round six, my legs lose their sharpness. My recovery slows.

Round seven, my hands get heavier. My punches lose their snap.

The simulations continue branching faster than he can consciously follow, each one arriving at the same destination.

Liam O'Connell still standing.

The last five rounds become one-sided.

He'll keep walking me down.

Keep draining whatever I have left.

Ryoma's jaw tightens.

...No.

That'll be the longest twelve rounds of my life.

His eyes narrow at the veteran waiting patiently behind the high guard.

I can't let this drag on.

I have to weaken him now...

...before he has anything left to torture me with later.

Ryoma lowers his gloves even further and casually walks toward the veteran, leaving openings almost everywhere.

I need something with more impact.

But first... I need him to come to me.

He stops just outside Liam's reach, sinks into a lower stance, and lazily begins tapping at the veteran's guard with his lead hand.

Pat.

Pat. Pat.

Liam doesn't hesitate, and a straight right shoots down the middle.

Ryoma slips his head back by a fraction, and his lead hook snaps out immediately…

Dsh!

…checking Liam at the base of the jaw.

"He's baiting him!"

"Ryoma actually invited the punch just to land that counter!"

However, when Ryoma follows it with a heavy straight to the face, Liam's guard has already recovered.

DUGH!

The punch crashes into both gloves.

Ryoma then calmly takes a step back, giving a subtle shake of his head.

...No.

That's not enough.

Need to lure him further.

Liam follows without hesitation. And this time, Ryoma deliberately changes his rhythm, faking his fatigue.

His lead hand flicks lazily from below, the jabs looking sluggish, as though his arm has already grown heavy from the pace of the fight.

Pat.

Pat. Pat.

Liam calmly blocks every one of them. And seeing what appears to be the first real sign of fatigue, the veteran finally steps in to begin his pressure.

Ryoma's posture changes in an instant. He melts into a loose Philly Shell, his lead shoulder rising as his torso begins weaving naturally through Liam's advance.

Dug. Swssh!

Dug. Dug. Dug. Swssh!

Dug. Pat. Swssh! Dug. Dug. Swssh! Swssh!

"Listen to this crowd!"

"Every slip, every shoulder roll is getting a reaction!"

"Ryoma is putting on an absolute defensive clinic!"

Each slip and roll invites the veteran another step closer, while beneath Ryoma's chin, right hand quietly coils like a spring waiting to be released.

Come on...

Come a little deeper.

Finally, Liam commits, lunging in with a long right straight to the head.

Ryoma raises his lead shoulder, dips his head beneath the punch, and explodes upward with his right.

DHUACK!

The uppercut snaps Liam's head violently upward.

"OH! What a counter!"

In the very next instant, Ryoma drives his lead shoulder into Liam's chest, creating just enough separation before firing again.

The arena erupts as a left hook crashes into the side of Liam's head, followed immediately by a straight right down the middle.

Dsh!

DHUACK!

"Beautiful! That wasn't just a counter! It was a complete sequence!"

"Uppercut... shoulder frame... hook... straight! Ryoma chained everything together flawlessly!"

All three punches land clean. Liam is blasted backward, stumbling several steps before finally catching his balance.

Yet almost immediately, he brings his gloves back together, tightening into the same compact high guard as though his body has done it on instinct.

Ryoma can only stare, disbelief written across his otherwise composed face.

"...How is he still standing after that?"