[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-vision-grid-system-the-comeback-of-ryoma-takeda":3,"chapter-vision-grid-system-the-comeback-of-ryoma-takeda-vision-grid-system-the-comeback-of-ryoma-takeda-chapter-268":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},730422,969,"Chapter 268: A Team That Shine When Splitting","vision-grid-system-the-comeback-of-ryoma-takeda-chapter-268",268,"\u003Cp>Fukui’s gloves are also thudding down as he tries to anchor himself. His breath rasps in broken pulls, chest jerking like an engine that just swallowed gravel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The pain blooms late, sharp and disorienting, ribs burning, chin buzzing, temple pulsing in a way that promises a terrible morning.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the worst part is the confusion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just seconds ago, he had the fight wrapped neatly in both hands. Eight rounds of control, rhythm, dominance, everything exactly where it should’ve been.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And now he’s staring at the floorboards, trying to make sense of how the world tilted underneath him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How did it suddenly come to this?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A hush spreads through the arena at first, a ripple of murmurs, the crowd trying to process what they just saw.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"...Was that real?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Did Okabe actually drop him?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then voices rise, one by one, swelling like a wave cresting.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Okabe! That’s how you fight!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Finally fighting like a real boxer!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Red corner’s alive!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Do it again, Okabe!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Across the ring, panic breaks through the blue corner.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Fukui! Get up!\" his coach barks, half-command, half-plea. \"We didn’t come this far to lose it like this! Don’t you dare stay down! Move! Respond! Look at me!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The commentators latch onto the chaos instantly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Blue corner is in full panic mode. This is the first time they’ve actually felt threatened tonight.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"If Fukui can’t recover here, we might be witnessing one of the biggest turnarounds of the match!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, Okabe forces himself toward the neutral corner, each step stiff and shaky. His head tilts up as he tries to drag in air, throat tight, lungs scraping for breath.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pain runs through him in steady, merciless pulses, but he holds himself upright, gripping the ropes behind him like they’re the only thing keeping him conscious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He doesn’t look at Fukui. He doesn’t look at the crowd. He just breathes, slow, ragged, and stubborn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>***\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ref’s count is precise. But to Okabe, it feels like someone stretched time out just to torment him. Each number drops with the weight of a boulder.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ref’s arm falls as if wrestling gravity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Two!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Okabe feels something twist in his gut, a slow nauseating turn that makes the edges of his vision pulse.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Three!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He mutters under his breath, barely audible even to himself, a simple plea disguised as prayer:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Please, just stay down. Please.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Four!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fukui’s gloves twitch against the canvas.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And Okabe’s heart sinks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Five!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fukui’s knee drags forward, finding a fragile anchor point. On seven, he pushes himself up, trembling but upright, like a collapsed structure forcing itself into an imitation of dignity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Okabe exhales in defeat, shoulders sagging with a helplessness that cuts deeper than the bruises. But Sera’s voice immediately slices through the moment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Okabe! He’s hurt! He’s exhausted! This is your best chance. Take it now!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The command snaps something inside Okabe back into alignment. He forces his hands up, pulls air into his aching lungs, and steadies his footing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He waits for the cue.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ref checks Fukui briefly, then steps back with a sharp call:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Box!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Okabe charges the moment the word hits the air. There’s no hesitation now, only pure conviction.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He barrels forward, swinging heavy punches, each one thrown with the desperate hope that this, finally, will be the shot that ends it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dug, dug!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dug, dsh, dug, dsh, dsh, bug!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The blows crash into Fukui’s guard in a relentless barrage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Left, right, hook, hook again, shoulders twisting, ribs screaming, feet scraping on the canvas as Okabe pours every remaining ounce of strength into the onslaught.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Most of the strikes are blocked, thudding uselessly into forearms and gloves, but Okabe doesn’t stop.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His breath comes in short, ragged gasps, each one sounding like it’s trying to escape his body entirely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Drop already, he thinks.Just fall. Collapse. Please...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Fukui, stubborn as ever, clamps down behind his guard and endures the storm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His coach shouts frantically from the blue corner, voice cracking under the strain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Hang on, Fukui! Just hang on! Don’t let it end here! Stay with it!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The words echo around the arena, merging with the dull thuds of Okabe’s fists and the shrill buzz in Okabe’s ears as his body edges closer to its limit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then finally, Ryoma’s voice erupts from behind Okabe, cutting through everything with the meanest word he can think off.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Are you stupid or what?! Stop throwing only heavy punches! Mix them! Pick your targets! Start small... like you did before!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Okabe wants to ignore him, wants to snap back, wants to tell him to shut up. But Ryoma is right, and both of them know it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For the second time tonight, Okabe forces himself to listen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He resets his stance, shakes out the burning tension in his arms, and draws a slow, steady breath. This time when he moves, he does it with precision.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A tight hook slips behind Fukui’s guard, followed by a clean body shot into the left ribs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Finally...\" a commentator beams. \"Okabe lands something dangerous.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Fukui winces, his guard loosens just enough for Okabe to slide an uppercut through the opening.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dhuack!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fukui’s head lifts sharply, chin exposed, balance compromised, guard broken apart, leaving a gap right in front of his face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Okabe doesn’t hesitate. He drives a heavy straight down the centerline, committing everything to that single moment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>BAM!!!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The impact cracks through the arena with a sound that ripples straight into the crowd’s bones, an awful clean note that makes half the audience flinch as if they’d taken the punch themselves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sweat and spit burst into the air, tinged with red, as Fukui’s head snaps back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His body folds almost immediately, legs buckling without resistance as he collapses onto the canvas.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Okabe’s gloves falls lifelessly, completely spent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this time, the referee doesn’t even attempt a count. The blue corner has already thrown the towel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>***\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the red corner, Hiroshi is the first to move, vaulting through the ropes before anyone else even processes the ending.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He barrels toward Okabe with all the grace of a large excited dog, slamming into him and wrapping both arms around his hips.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then, in a burst of joy that ignores Okabe’s condition entirely, he lifts him clean off the ground, shouting incoherently into his side.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Above the roar, the commentators ride the moment with triumphant, breathless excitement.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Okabe has done it!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"What a comeback... what an unbelievable turnaround!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"This arena is shaking. Listen to them! He pulled it off at the very edge of defeat!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The crowd follows in a tidal wave of cheers, raw, ecstatic, and unrestrained. The noise rolls over the ring like a physical force.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Across the canvas, the blue corner spills in to gather around Fukui. The referee waves frantically toward the officials, shouting for the ringside medics, and a stretcher team pushes forward through the crowd of staff.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sera climbs into the ring a moment later, slower but steady, brushing sweat from his face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You did it, Okabe\" he says, voice low but warm. \"You finally did it.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Ryoma remains near the ropes, half in shadow, his expression flat and cold. He doesn’t move to join the celebration, doesn’t smile, doesn’t even attempt to.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Maybe he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to feel any of it. Maybe he’s waiting for Okabe to look his way first.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And eventually, Okabe does.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Still catching his breath, still half-raised in Hiroshi’s grip, Okabe’s gaze shifts to the back of the ring.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But his grin halts midcurve. His eyes lock with Ryoma’s for a brief, suspended second, neither of them speaking, neither blinking.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And then Okabe looks away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Deliberately.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He turns his back on Ryoma and raises his fists toward the roaring crowd, shouting out at them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I’m still standing! What are you going to say now?!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The crowd answers with another wave of cheers. The commentators jump back in as the cheers crest, their voices practically buzzing with adrenaline.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Nakahara’s camp does it again! They never fail to light up an arena. Never!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"It’s incredible, isn’t it? Even without the boss tonight, they still pull off something electric. There’s just something in their DNA. This chaotic, explosive way they push each other.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Yeah, only Nakahara’s fighters can turn a meltdown into a miracle.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their enthusiasm blends into the roar of the crowd, the moment swelling with triumph, unity, and that strange reckless magic Nakahara’s camp is known for.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And yet, there’s a quiet, bitter irony: the team that looks unbreakable from the outside is, in truth, starting to crack apart.\u003C\u002Fp>",1425,"2026-06-02T11:09:26.935Z",1,"novelbin.me","ee72cf9a9acfb44cf5454f9b2666a9386207735fca078374d124ed0d499fb2d5","vision-grid-system-the-comeback-of-ryoma-takeda-chapter-269","vision-grid-system-the-comeback-of-ryoma-takeda-chapter-267",762,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fvision-grid-system-the-comeback-of-ryoma-takeda-cover.jpg"]