VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Nakahara lets it run a little longer than he should. Ryoma answers them cleanly, never letting the conversation slip into something careless. But the crowd isn’t thinning, and the same angles keep circling back in different forms.

Then finally, the old man steps forward, raising a hand slightly. “Alright, that’s it for now,” he says, voice firm without being hostile. “He just got back. You’ll have your time later.”

A few protests come up, more questions trying to slip through, but security moves in at the same time, reinforcing the break.

Nakahara doesn’t linger to negotiate it. He places a hand lightly at Ryoma’s back, guiding him forward.

“We’re done here,” he adds, more quietly this time.

The noise follows them for a few steps, voices calling out, cameras still trying to catch something as they’re escorted through the exit.

But the moment passes once they’re outside. At the curb, a minivan is already waiting, Sera stands beside it. He straightens up when he sees them, stepping forward to help with the luggage without needing to be asked.

“You really took your time, huh?” he says, a bit complaining.

“Media,” Nakahara replies. “You know how they are.”

Sera gives a small nod, like that’s all the explanation he needs, and moves to the back to help with the luggage.

The back door slides open, and when Ryoma steps in, he notices Kenta is already there, slouched into the seat by the window, head tilted slightly to one side, eyes closed.

Kenta looks like he’s already deep asleep, his breathing slow and even. No one says anything about it. After the long journey, everyone’s too drained to make anything of it.

As the van pulls away from the curb, the exhaustion finally settles in properly. Everyone sits in silence, letting the steady rhythm of the drive fill the space.

Only Nakahara glances back once. His eyes rest on Kenta for a moment longer than necessary, watching the way he stays still, the way he doesn’t stir even when the van shifts over a bump in the road.

Something about it doesn’t sit right, but Nakahara still doesn’t say anything. They live under the same roof, and he tells himself there will be time to sort it out once they’re back at the apartment.

But that plan doesn’t hold for long. As the van reaches Tokyo, Kenta speaks without lifting his head.

“Sera… can you drop me off in front of my old man’s shop later?”

Sera glances up at the rearview mirror, then looks back over his shoulder for a second. His eyes meet Nakahara’s briefly.

There’s a small pause, before he turns forward and nods.

“Sure.”

There’s nothing wrong with the request on its own, but given Kenta’s current situation, it still doesn’t feel entirely normal.

Under usual circumstances, they’d move together through the stops, drop the others off first, and Kenta would stay on until the end, heading back with Nakahara.

This time is different, and everyone can feel it. But it’s not something you can just bring up directly or question him about. Why he’s choosing to stay at his parents’ house now is his own matter, even if the silence around it feels heavier than usual.

For once, Ryoma actually glances at Kenta, fully understanding what is burdening him. He thinks about saying something, but the voice inside his head stops him.

<< Not this time… >>

<< You’re only going to make the situation worse. >>

<< You should already know. In his mind, you’re part of the problem. >>

<< He just doesn’t say it out loud to avoid conflict. You should respect that distance. >>

Ryoma exhales and tries to go back to sleep, setting the matter aside for now.

The van keeps moving, carrying them deeper into the city, toward a stop that wasn’t part of the plan.

***

Later, the van comes to a stop in front of a modest shop with a simple sign reading Moriyama Fruit Shop above a glass front. Kenta steps out without waiting for anyone, opening the side door and pulling his luggage down after him.

No one is standing outside to greet him. No waiting presence, no familiar welcome. His father is in the shop, behind the cashier, handling a small line of customers. He actually notices Kenta, his expression shifting into something between surprise and curiosity.

But he doesn’t step away from the register. He just can’t as the shop is still busy, and he keeps working while glancing over between transactions.

Before anything else can settle, Nakahara leans slightly out of the van window, speaking to Kenta.

“Get some rest,” he says, his voice is softer than usual. “Don’t come back to the gym for at least a week. You need a proper recovery.”

At that moment, the door to the house beside the shop opens. Kenta’s mother steps out and comes over. She slows when she sees Kenta standing there with the luggage, her eyes moving between him and the van.

“Oh, Kenta… you’re staying with us?” she asks, a little uncertain, like she wasn’t expecting this.

Kenta turns, not answering Nakahara. He simply gives a small nod toward his mother instead. Nakahara watches that exchange for a moment, and then speaks again, this time toward her.

“He’s been through a long trip. Everyone has. We’ll head back now. Please take care of him.”

The mother straightens slightly and bows. “Thank you… for looking after him this whole time.”

The van engine idles for a moment longer. Nakahara gives a final glance as he sees Moriyama finally coming out of the shop.

“And don’t push him into anything physical for a week,” Nakahara says, just loud enough for Kenta’s father to hear.

Moriyama looks up and gives a solemn nod, acknowledging it without argument. Only after the van leaves does Moriyama approaches his son.

“You’re staying here?” he asks simply.

Kenta bends down, picking up one of the bags and nodding once. Moriyama sighs, and takes the remaining luggage without complaint, though his tone carries a faint edge.

“At least tell us beforehand next time.”

Kenta doesn’t answer. And he stays quite even until he gets to his old bedroom.

The father doesn’t say anything either, doesn’t ask about the fight, doesn’t bring up the loss or mention anything that happened in the ring. He just watches his son set his bag down.

“You should rest,” he says after a moment, then turns away and closes the door to the room behind him.

And that’s just it, no discussion, no judgment spoken out loud. But the silence that follows feels heavy enough to carry it anyway.

Kenta sits on the edge of the bed for a while after that, not moving, listening to the house settle around him.

Nakahara’s words come back to him; don’t return to the gym for a week, a full recovery.

But as he sits there, looking at nothing in particular, that thought shifts slightly. Because somewhere between the silence of the van ride and this room that hasn’t changed in years, returning to the gym no longer feels like the next step.

It feels like something he might not go back to at all. Because since that loss, he’s been considering hanging up his gloves.