[{"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-460":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},730714,969,"Chapter 460: Goodwill, Earned","vision-grid-system-the-comeback-of-ryoma-takeda-chapter-460",460,"\u003Cp>Early afternoon settles into Nakahara Boxing Gym with a different kind of energy than the morning sessions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ryoma hasn’t left. He lingers near the far ring, sleeves rolled up despite the chill, his attention is fixed on Satoru.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Slow it down,\" he says, voice steady. \"Pendulum. You’re bouncing again.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Satoru adjusts immediately, feet rocking forward and back, weight shifting more smoothly this time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ryoma circles him, eyes sharp, catching small things even Sera sometimes lets slide during busy sessions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Don’t lift your heels so much,\" Ryoma adds. \"You’re telegraphing when you want to move. Stay closer to the floor.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It’s become normal, in recent months, for Ryoma to be the one overseeing Satoru’s progress. Nakahara hasn’t said it outright, but the responsibility has quietly shifted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ryoma corrects, demonstrates with his shoulders, taps the floor with his shoe to mark angles. Satoru listens with a seriousness that goes beyond respect. He knows who he’s learning from.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eventually, habit takes over and Satoru reaches for the mitts. Ryoma lifts his hands halfway, receives the mitts, and then stops himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Can’t,\" Ryoma says, almost apologetic. \"Hands are still injured.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Satoru hesitates, trying not to sound disappointed. \"I mean... I can still go light.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ryoma smiles faintly. \"That’s how bad habits start.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Satoru lowers his arms, lips pressed together. He looks away for a second, then back. \"It’s just... your mitts feel different. Everything lines up better.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Careful...\" Ryoma clicks his tongue, amused. \"Say that any louder and you’ll offend the old man.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From behind them, Nakahara’s voice cuts in dryly. \"I heard that.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Satoru straightens immediately as Nakahara steps forward, mitts already in hand. \"Come here,\" the old man says. \"If you think his are good, you haven’t suffered enough yet.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Satoru swallows, nods, and moves toward him without another word.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Satoru jogs over, a few of the other amateurs linger nearby, pretending to stretch, pretending not to stare.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They want to ask Ryoma questions, want him to watch their footwork too, but none of them quite cross the line.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ryoma notices. He smiles faintly and steps away. \"I’m heading out early,\" he says to Nakahara. \"They’re all yours.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Outside, the cold air greets him sharply. Ryoma exhales and slips his hands into his pockets as his phone vibrates.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stops when he sees the notification.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>¥10,000,000 transferred.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His expression brightens, just a little. \"Ten million every international win. Not bad. Not bad at all.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a few steps, he chuckles quietly. \"Maybe I should tell the old man to line up more overseas fights.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only days ago, his body had paid the price for rushing. And yet the thought slips in anyway: more fights, tighter schedules, faster climbs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The money makes it sound reasonable. And the cost it may bring has been forgotten already.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>***\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By the time Ryoma reaches his mother’s barbershop, his phone vibrates again. He stops just short of the door, and checks the screen before answering.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Yes, Morishima-san.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There’s a brief pause as he listens.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The bonus? Yeah. I just received it.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There’s another pause, and then his brows lift slightly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"A meeting with the president? Tonight?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ryoma glances down the quiet street, then back at the door. \"I don’t mind,\" he says. \"I don’t really have anything planned.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The call ends a moment later. He slips the phone back into his pocket and stands there for a second longer than necessary.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He tells himself not to think too much about it. Tries to keep his expectations flat. But it doesn’t work.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Images come anyway, quiet ones, reasonable ones. Acknowledgment. Trust. Something more than just money. Proof that what he’s done is being seen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the system breaks the mood, the voice cuts in, unhurried.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>>\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>>\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ryoma exhales through his nose, almost amused. \"I know, I know.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then he reaches for the door, the bell chiming softly as he steps inside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>***\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before dusk, Ryoma packs the dinner he’s made and brings it over to the barbershop. He sets it down quietly where his mother can see it through the mirror.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Eat while it’s still warm,\" he says. As he turns to leave, he adds, \"I’ve got a meeting tonight. Someone important.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fujimoto chose a quiet kappo restaurant tucked behind a narrow Ginza street, the kind of place you wouldn’t find unless someone brought you there.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ryoma pauses at the entrance, breath fogging faintly as he exhales into the cold night. He’s bundled in a thick jacket, hands buried in the pockets, shoulders slightly hunched from the chill.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The noren hanging above the door is plain, unmarked except for a small, worn crest. No flashy signage, no valet, only a narrow wooden door and a single warm light glowing from inside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He glances at it again, mildly surprised. It’s modest, almost stubbornly so.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Back then with Kirizume, everything had been designed to impress, to overwhelm, to suggest a world Ryoma didn’t yet belong to but could, if he just reached out. But this place doesn’t reach out at all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a brief moment, he slides the door open and steps inside. Warm air washes over him, carrying the scent of dashi and grilled fish.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The space is quiet but not tense. A wooden counter runs along one side, a few tables set deeper in, each spaced comfortably apart.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At one of them, Fujimoto is already seated, not in a suit, but only a dark sweater under a coat folded neatly beside him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Across from him sits Kaito Morishima, jacket still on, tablet nowhere in sight. Kaito notices Ryoma first and lifts a hand with an easy smile.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Over here, Takeda-kun.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ryoma approaches, bowing instinctively. \"Sorry to keep you waiting.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fujimoto waves it off. \"You’re on time,\" he says, voice lighter than usual. \"Sit. You must be freezing.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ryoma takes a seat and shrugs out of his jacket, his system already running in the background, quietly scanning for anything that might turn the moment against him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But up close, he notices it even more clearly now, the absence of that sharp assessing gaze Fujimoto usually carries. Tonight, he looks like an old man settling into a favorite routine rather than a company president weighing outcomes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"This place,\" Fujimoto adds, reaching for his tea, \"hasn’t changed in thirty years. That’s why I like it. No one here cares who you are. Only whether you eat properly.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ryoma finds himself smiling back, tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying easing out of his shoulders.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He settles in more easily than he expected. The food comes out in small courses. Nothing extravagant, nothing staged.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fujimoto pours for everyone himself, insisting with a flick of his wrist when Ryoma tries to stop him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The conversation drifts; about the cold lingering too long this year, about travel fatigue, about how Ginza used to be quieter at night.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At some point, the edge disappears entirely. It stops feeling like a meeting and starts feeling like three people sharing time they don’t need to justify.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then, halfway through a dish, Fujimoto chuckles to himself. \"You know,\" he says, chopsticks hovering midair, \"I never thought I’d hear those words come out of your mouth.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ryoma looks up. \"What words?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fujimoto tilts his head, amused. \"The airport interview. Climb the ladder first.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ryoma blinks, then exhales lightly through his nose. \"Ah. That.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I almost replayed it,\" Fujimoto continues, tapping the air with his chopsticks. \"Couldn’t believe it.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ryoma shrugs, casual. \"That’s just how it is. I can’t decide who I fight. If they want the belt, they have to climb the ladder first.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fujimoto points the chopsticks at him, grin widening. \"Exactly. That’s why it was funny. You used the same argument they once used on you.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ryoma’s eyes widen slightly. \"...Eh.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kaito’s gaze flicks between them, already sensing where this is going.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fujimoto leans back, laughing. \"What? Don’t tell me you didn’t realize.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ryoma rubs the back of his neck, thinking. Then his mouth curves upward, slow and genuine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Now that you mention it...\" He lets out a quiet laugh. \"They must be furious right now, huh?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Oh, absolutely,\" Fujimoto says, laughing harder now. \"Livid.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kaito tries to hold it in, shoulders shaking, but fails, pressing his knuckles to his mouth as he wipes at the corner of his eye.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The laughter lingers, warm and unforced, before naturally fading. After a moment, Fujimoto looks at Ryoma again, more curious than probing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"So. You’re not going to fight Yanagimoto?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ryoma tilts his head. \"Old man,\" he says lightly, \"you seem pretty eager to see me fight him. Why? I didn’t know you followed boxing.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kaito stiffens slightly at the choice of words, eyes darting to Fujimoto. But Fujimoto only waves it off.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I don’t, really. Not following him, anyway.\" He sighs. \"There’s someone at the office who won’t shut up about Yanagimoto. Talks about him like he’s the future. I got tired of hearing it.\" He smiles thinly. \"Thought if you beat him, maybe he’d finally stop.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ryoma chuckles. \"Is that so? Then I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fujimoto raises an eyebrow. \"Oh?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"It won’t happen,\" Ryoma says calmly. \"I just don’t think he’ll hold his Japanese title much longer.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There’s a brief pause. Then Fujimoto nods slowly, smiles again, understanding clicking into place.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"That’s what you meant,\" he says, \"losing the belt in the most humiliating way. He has a title fight coming up. But his attention’s already somewhere else.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fujimoto exhales, almost sympathetic. \"Yeah. That would be bad for them.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d heard the talk how Ryoma was becoming a polarizing figure, difficult to place. But sitting across from him now, Fujimoto sees the line of thought beneath the words.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And for Fujimoto, that clarity is enough to confirm he placed his bet on the right man.\u003C\u002Fp>",1622,"2026-06-02T11:09:26.935Z",1,"novelbin.me","30c00d055ad8c2442493855fb223907704eb86a06d3f07252ee8d6fb3ce8a808","vision-grid-system-the-comeback-of-ryoma-takeda-chapter-461","vision-grid-system-the-comeback-of-ryoma-takeda-chapter-459",762,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fvision-grid-system-the-comeback-of-ryoma-takeda-cover.jpg"]