Chapter 993 - 993: A Mind Full of Possibilities

May 18th, 2019. Osaka.

The weigh-in stage is ready, with Ryoma Takeda and Umemoto Kimitada preparing to step onto the scales for their WBO Lightweight title fight. Both must come in at no more than 61.2 kilograms.

Despite the tight schedule, both fighters have reached their target weight without any problems. They look noticeably thinner, but neither seems bothered by it. They are both accustomed to looking this way before a fight.

Although Umemoto previously fought at Super Lightweight, his natural frame is not much different from Ryoma's. He is only half a centimeter taller, with slightly broader shoulders.

Once the two fighters sit together on the podium for the interview session, however, the difference becomes difficult to ignore.

The effects of dehydration are more noticeable on Umemoto's face than on Ryoma's. It is hardly severe, but several journalists still notice it.

"Umemoto-san," one of the journalists says. "This is your third fight since moving down to Lightweight. Have you had any significant problems maintaining your weight?"

"Compared to when I was fighting at Super Lightweight, it's definitely more challenging," Umemoto says. "I have to cut more than two kilos extra just to make the limit. And I can't simply put all that weight back on after the weigh-in. Gaining too much in a single day isn't good either.

He pauses before adding, "So you can see the problem. Before the weigh-in, I have to cut the extra weight, and even afterward, I can't immediately return to the weight my body is most comfortable at."

"Many observers believe you're doing all of this simply because you wanted to fight Ryoma. Is that true?" the same journalist asks.

"You got damn right," Umemoto replies. "I'm sick of watching him ruin this country's image by setting such a fucking terrible example on the global stage. I want to beat him as soon as possible, so the world will stop seeing him as the face representing Japan."

A burst of camera flashes follows almost immediately, while several journalists lower their eyes to scribble down the words they have just heard. Others exchange quick glances, already recognizing the kind of headline the answer is likely to produce.

Another journalist raises his microphone before the room can settle.

"Takeda-san, what do you think about that?"

Ryoma, who has spent the past few weeks learning how to ignore things that do not matter, answers almost casually.

"What? We're not even half a centimeter apart. So realistically, the challenge we're dealing with isn't that different. Maybe he's just preparing an excuse for when he loses."

"So you believe you have the advantage and can win this fight?"

"Well, if I win, Umemoto can always consider moving back up to Super Lightweight. If he's really that desperate to fight me, he doesn't need to make such a big drama out of it. Once I become undisputed at Lightweight, I'm going up to Super Lightweight anyway."

A few journalists exchange surprised glances, while several others immediately raise their cameras at Ryoma's remarkably casual declaration.

"You say that so casually, as if becoming undisputed is just another walk in the park. Don't you think that might offend the other world champions?"

"It doesn't matter whether they're offended or not," Ryoma says. "I'm going to make it happen. And if you guys stopped bothering me with all this pointless drama, I could probably make it happen even sooner. And when I do, you'll all thank me for it."

Without waiting to be asked for his response, Umemoto immediately raises his microphone and turns toward Ryoma with a condescending scoff.

"A pervert like you? Becoming undisputed?" he says. "Listen, kid. Despite all the wins you've collected so far, your record isn't exactly that long. So don't start thinking you've already been tested by everything this sport has to offer. You simply haven't faced anyone good enough to expose you yet. Hell, you haven't even proven yourself in this country."

He then turns toward the journalists, his expression carrying the same contempt. "Don't be naive enough to expect some pervert who spends more time watching porn than training to be the one who takes Japan to the top of the world."

Umemoto turns back toward Ryoma and leans slightly toward his microphone. "Once you're standing in the ring with me, you'll see the reality for yourself. Well, even then, I doubt you'll actually learn anything from it."

He breaks into loud laughter, the sound carrying an unmistakably intimidating edge. "Once I take that championship away from you, you can crawl back into your dark little room and watch as much porn as you want to drown your sorrows."

For the first time during the interview, something shifts across Ryoma's face. The careless expression fades slightly, replaced by a brief flicker of irritation as anxiety begins creeping back into his thoughts.

His mind starts running through one possibility after another, imagining what could happen if the misunderstanding surrounding his supposed obsession with porn continues spreading.

One journalist notices the change in his expression and immediately seizes the opportunity. "Takeda-san. Over the past few days, there has been some discussion about you, well, apparently enjoying yourself watching porn in the middle of negotiations with Umemoto's team. Public opinion seems divided over the matter. Some believe it was an unconventional attempt to get inside your opponent's head, while others believe Umemoto has deliberately been trying to defame you with these allegations. Don't you think you should clarify the situation here, or perhaps consider taking legal action over the defamation?"

And somehow, the journalist's argument only gives Ryoma's mind more material to work with, sending his thoughts down another chain of possibilities. He begins imagining the potential consequences of taking legal action, then another possibility branches from that one, followed by another, until the entire process starts spiraling beyond his control.

Eventually, Ryoma catches himself before it can go any further. He jerks his head once, just slightly, then takes a deep breath and deliberately shuts the thoughts down, his expression gradually returning to its usual indifference.

"Well, it doesn't matter what you people believe," Ryoma says. "What matters to me right now is winning tomorrow. Once I do that, Umemoto won't have to keep creating all this unnecessary drama just to get under my skin."

One WBO official overseeing the event, a Tokyo native himself, notices the subtle change in Ryoma's behavior. Having followed several of the champion's recent interviews, he recognizes the effort. Ryoma is clearly trying not to lose control and create another controversy in front of the cameras.

Perhaps the official is slightly biased toward Ryoma. But clearly, he has little desire to see the Champion's image take another unnecessary hit. As more journalists raising their hands and calling out questions, the official steps forward and politely brings the interview session to an end.

"Alright, everyone. That's enough for the interview. We'll move on to the face-off."

The two fighters are directed toward the center of the stage, where they take their positions facing each other.

Ryoma stands calmly across from Umemoto as the photographers immediately raise their cameras, filling the stage with a rapid storm of flashes.

Umemoto leans slightly closer, keeping his voice low enough that the photographers around them cannot hear what he is saying.

"Right now, they still protect your image because you're the champion. But once you lose, they won't have any reason to do that anymore. They'll come at you from every direction, and I won't even have to create the drama myself."

He pauses, watching Ryoma's expression carefully, then adds with a slight chuckle, "All that scrutiny will follow you everywhere. Hell, even that stupid porn story will probably start sounding like a joke at your expense."

Ryoma says nothing. His expression remains completely indifferent, as though Umemoto has said nothing worth hearing. He keeps his eyes forward while the photographers continue shouting for them to move closer.

But his mind has already registered every word, and somehow, it does something that even Umemoto never intended.

The problem is that Umemoto has not actually told him anything new. The possibility has always been there. What he has done is simply put the sequence into words, giving Ryoma's mind another chain of consequences to follow.

If the title is gone, will people really stop protecting me?

What happens to Ronin?

What happens to the people who have built their careers around me?

What happens when every old controversy is dragged back into the spotlight?

Hell, even right now, Aki and Reika have already started distancing themselves from me.

And if everyone turns against me, how much of it can I actually control?

Ryoma catches himself before the questions can multiply any further. He takes a slow breath and deliberately pushes the thoughts aside, keeping the same indifferent expression until the photographers finally finish taking their pictures.

But pushing the thoughts away does not make them disappear. They remain somewhere inside his head, quietly following him off the stage and into the night.

And the next day, when Ryoma sits inside the locker room and begins carefully wrapping tape around his hands, that weight is still there. And this time, he is carrying it all by himself. There are no voices in his head anymore.

As annoying as they often were, those voices had always managed to bring him back to one simple goal: winning the fight. But for the first time in his career, Ryoma is completely alone inside his own head.