VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Ryoma says nothing. He simply turns toward the window and walks over to it, looking down at the street below.

Cabello and Rivera have barely made it out of the building before the reporters swarm them again, microphones thrust forward from every direction.

"Mr. Cabello! How did the meeting go?"

"Did Ronin Fight Management welcome your proposal?"

This time, however, Cabello has none of the patience he displayed when he first arrived.

"Enough already," he snaps, waving them aside. "Move. You're all becoming a damn nuisance."

Another reporter squeezes in front of him. "Mr. Cabello, can you at least tell us…"

"I said move!" Cabello shoves the microphone away with the back of his hand. "You'll know everything when it's official. Until then, stop following me everywhere."

Rivera quietly apologizes to the reporters as he ushers Cabello toward the waiting taxi, leaving the commotion behind.

The taxi soon pulls away, leaving behind a crowd of reporters exchanging puzzled looks, still trying to make sense of Cabello's sudden change in attitude.

Across the street, however, Sato and Tanaka merely share a quiet chuckle.

"Looks like the negotiations hit a wall," Sato says.

"Of course they did," Tanaka replies with a knowing smile. "Ramirez may be out of the picture, but they're still insisting on bringing Ryoma into their own backyard. And after everything that's happened... there's no way Ryoma agrees to that."

Sato nods slowly. "Now it goes to a purse bid. And something tells me... this one's going to get ugly."

***

Back in the CEO's office on the second floor, Toyama quietly excuses himself. Nakahara closes the door behind him before returning to the sofa across the coffee table.

Kurogane, meanwhile, hasn't moved from his seat. One hand is still pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed as his mind races through one possibility after another, desperately searching for a countermeasure before the purse bid turns into a battlefield they have no chance of winning.

"Let's assume Rivera was telling the truth," he begins speaking. "And let's say they will try to prevent you from entering the ring. But even then, they still have to prepare for the possibility that you actually make it into the ring."

He turns toward Ryoma, who remains standing by the window. "They're businessmen. No matter what their motives are, once they invest in the purse bid, they'll still expect the event to make money."

Nakahara furrows his brow. "What are you getting at?"

Kurogane looks back at him. "Think about the revenue they expect this fight to generate. That should tell us how far they're willing to invest."

Nakahara scratches his cheek. "Do you have a number?"

"With Ryoma involved," Kurogane says, "the event could realistically bring in fifty million dollars, maybe more. Staging a show in Las Vegas would probably cost around ten million."

He pauses briefly, organizing the figures in his head. "If they still want to walk away with a healthy profit, I can easily see them investing fifteen... maybe even twenty million dollars just to win the purse bid."

His expression hardens. "And if those promoters really stand together, they'll have more than enough capital to reach that number."

Ryoma lets out a quiet sigh. "I don't think they'll go that far."

Kurogane turns toward him just as Ryoma finally steps away from the window.

"They are thinking exactly what you're doing right now," Ryoma continues. "They'll estimate how much the others are capable of investing. Then they'll only need to go slightly higher."

Ryoma glances between Kurogane and Nakahara. "And don't forget, that money goes directly to the fighters. If they bid twenty million dollars, that means they're paying Cabello fourteen million."

Ryoma gives a faint shake of his head. "Promoters don't just think about one event. They think about the market they'll have to live with afterward. If they make Cabello a fourteen-million-dollar champion today, they'll have to keep treating him like one tomorrow."

Kurogane falls silent. His fingers tap lightly against the armrest as he slowly nods to himself. Ryoma's reasoning is difficult to argue with. A purse bid isn't just an investment to win a single fight. It also becomes the benchmark for every negotiation that follows.

As for Ryoma, he is his own promoter, and he has little reason to care if he drives up his own value. Other promoters, however, have to be far more careful. They need to control how much a fighter will cost them going forward.

"Okay…" Kurogane exhales. "When he fought Liam O'Connell for the belt, I heard Cabello only made around one million dollars. If I were his promoter, going into his first title defense, I'd probably pay him somewhere around two... maybe three million."

Ryoma gives a small nod. "That's Rivera offered me."

Kurogane looks up. "The purse bid changes things, of course. They'll probably be willing to go a little higher to secure the rights. But not so high that they inflate Cabello's market value."

"Around four million?" Nakahara guesses.

"Something like that," Kurogane replies. "If that's the purse going to the champion, I'd expect them to consider bidding somewhere between six and seven million dollars."

Ryoma finally cuts in. "Whatever the number is... the 3.8 million dollars you gave me won't be enough."

He then glances between the two of them, quietly measuring just how firmly they're determined to hold that line, trying to push his luck for more money.

But before he can say a word, Kurogane speaks again.

"Why don't you go back to Fujimoto?"

Ryoma considers it for a moment, before exhaling. "He's not a promoter. I might be able to convince him to sponsor us again, and maybe he'll agree to put two million dollars on the table before the event. But that still won't be enough. And we still need capital to stage the event itself, not just to win the purse bid."

Silence settles over the office once again. None of them speaks. Each is left weighing the same dilemma, wondering whether Ronin should once again gamble everything they have on a single event. But before resigning themselves to that choice, they continue searching for another way.

"Maybe..." Nakahara says at last. "We could try selling the broadcasting rights to a TV network and ask them to pay upfront."

Kurogane shakes his head. "Selling what? We don't even own the hosting rights yet."

Nakahara rubs his forehead with a weary sigh. "Then I suppose every other option runs into the same problem. What we need right now... is a partner."

Hearing that, Kurogane's eyes begin drifting between Nakahara and Ryoma. A moment later, Nakahara unconsciously returns the same glance toward Kurogane before looking at Ryoma as well.

Ryoma catches it immediately. "No," he says flatly. "Don't even think about bringing Logan Rhodes into this."

"What?" Kurogane raises both hands. "I didn't say anything."

Nakahara quickly shakes his head. "Me neither."

Ryoma clicks his tongue before rising from his chair. Without another word, he walks back to the window and stares quietly at the city stretching beyond the glass.

Kurogane and Nakahara exchange another glance, as if they are still insisting on the same idea. Then Nakahara breaks the silence.

"You know... I'm starting to wonder if Logan Rhodes isn't as bad as I've always believed."

"Yeah," Kurogane replies. "He's just a businessman. At the very least... he's nothing like Hugo Ramirez. Logan isn't even a real boxing promoter. His business is sports broadcasting."

Nakahara nods slowly. "That reminds me of Shimamura. Back then, I thought his life would fall apart after Logan brought him to America."

A faint smile crosses the old man's face. "Then, about three weeks ago, he suddenly called me. Just listening to him talk... he sounded like a completely different person."

Nakahara lets out a quiet chuckle. "He said they don't even let him have a single drop of alcohol anymore."

Ryoma's brow tightens ever so slightly. He knows exactly where the conversation is heading. The two of them are trying, in their own way, to change how he sees Logan Rhodes. But the more they talk, the more reluctant Ryoma feels.

Partnering with Logan isn't simply a business decision. To Ryoma, it still feels like shaking hands with someone he has never truly forgiven.

Even now, the image of Okabe breaking down in tears after losing the Class-A Tournament remains etched into his memory.

***

Meanwhile, nearly half an hour after leaving Ronin Fight Management, Cabello is still unable to shake off the irritation simmering inside him. The taxi continues weaving through Tokyo's afternoon traffic, yet his thoughts remain trapped inside that office, replaying every word Ryoma had thrown at him.

"That arrogant brat..." he mutters. "Still wet behind the ears, and he already thinks he's the king of the sport."

He shakes his head in disbelief. "A CEO? A promoter? Give me a break. He's just another lucky kid who won a few fights and suddenly thinks the whole boxing world revolves around him."

Rivera turns his head toward him, his expression noticeably colder than before. "At least he's more mature than you are."

Cabello's eyes widen. "What…"

"This negotiation was over the moment you put your feet on their table," Rivera adds. "Even with Hugo Ramirez, I've never seen him carrying himself like that when he sat across from someone he wanted something from."

"Oh, come on," Cabello shoots back. "Are we really talking about manners now?"

"Yes," Rivera replies flatly. "Because respect costs nothing. And today, it would've cost you far less than what we've just lost."

Before Cabello can fire back, Rivera's phone suddenly rings. Rivera quickly takes it from his pocket and glances at the screen.

"It's Vaughan."

At the mention of the name, Cabello simply closes his mouth and turns back toward the window.

"The moment he steps into the ring," he mutters, "he will know the price of disrespecting me."

Rivera ignores him and answers the call.

"Yes?"

[How did it go?]

"It's a dead end," Rivera replies. "They want to settle everything through a purse bid."

Rivera waits, but no reply comes from the other end. Several long seconds pass with nothing but the faint sound of breathing over the line.

Then the call disconnects.