Isekai in Hajime no Ippo with Gaolang’s Template

The backroom was dimly lit, filled with the distinct scent of leather and sweat that permeated every corner of a boxing gym.

Ippo stood in front of a large mirror, adjusting his gloves nervously. His fingers fumbled slightly as he wrapped his hands, the tightness making him feel oddly constricted. Sweat beaded on his forehead, not from exertion, but from the overwhelming pressure of his first official test.

What if I mess up? Ippo's mind raced, replaying all the moments of doubt he'd ever had in his training. What if I freeze?

He shook his head, trying to clear the negative thoughts. A deep breath helped center him as he began to shadowbox, his movements stiff at first. He knew the basic moves well, but the ring was a different beast entirely. This wasn't just training—this was the real deal. Ippo's fists moved through the air, every punch thrown with purpose but still filled with uncertainty.

Just then, the door swung open, and Takamura stepped inside, his trademark cocky smile on his face. "Oi, Ippo, stop messing around. It's your turn. Time to show them what you've got."

Ippo looked up, his anxiety momentarily vanishing at the sight of his coach. Takamura's confidence was infectious, and Ippo nodded, trying to shake off the last of his nerves. He pulled his gloves tighter, readying himself.

As they walked out of the backroom and toward the ring, Alex was already sitting on the bleachers, watching with a calm expression. He was excited for his own turn, but also curious about how Ippo would handle this. Ippo's face was more serious now, his nerves tucked away for the moment. I have to do this. I can't back down.

Ippo's FightThe crowd's cheers filled the arena as Ippo stepped into the ring. His opponent, a tall and wiry man, was already bouncing on his feet, a cocky grin plastered on his face. The moment he saw Ippo's nervous posture, he scoffed inwardly. This kid looks like an amateur. Perfect. His thoughts were brimming with overconfidence. I'll have him on the floor in no time.

The referee signaled to begin, and the fight started.

Ippo's opponent wasted no time, rushing forward with a wild lead hook aimed at Ippo's head. But Ippo's instincts kicked in, and he swiftly ducked under the punch. The crowd gasped, impressed by his reaction time.

But his opponent wasn't done. Another hook followed, and Ippo quickly weaved his head to the side, avoiding the strike entirely. The opponent then jabbed, trying to control the distance, but Ippo's eyes were locked in. He didn't hesitate—he slipped inside the jab, just barely avoiding it, and with a quick motion, threw a clean uppercut to his opponent's chin.

Before his opponent could react, Ippo twisted his body, bringing his hips around in perfect synchrony with his punch. Then, like a flash, he threw a devastating cross. The punch landed squarely on his opponent's chin, and the force was enough to send him flying backward, his body crashing over the ropes and out of the ring.

The crowd erupted into shock and applause. Ippo himself stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what just happened. His opponent, still sprawled on the floor outside the ring, looked up in disbelief. The referee stepped in, his face serious, calling an end to the match.

Ippo's heart raced. I... I did it. A wide grin spread across his face as the audience cheered. He turned to Alex, sitting in the stands, a look of pride in his eyes. Takamura was clapping, nodding in approval.

Meanwhile, Mashiba, who had been watching quietly from the sidelines, smirked. He'd seen Ippo's potential, but for now, he had no interest in the kid's success. With a quick glance, he turned and walked out of the gym without saying a word.

Ippo stood, breathing heavily but smiling, his confidence growing. But there was still something nagging at him—how quickly his opponent had gone down. Maybe I have more power than I thought.

Alex's FightNext up was Alex.

The moment Alex's name was called, he stood, his posture shifting. He moved toward the ring with a swagger that could only be described as confidence. The crowd's eyes followed him, and many of the boxers in the gym whispered among themselves about the newcomer's cocky stride. Alex didn't mind. He knew how he was going to end this fight.

His opponent was already in the ring, bouncing lightly on his feet. A tall guy, broad-shouldered, with a clear advantage in reach. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Alex. I've got the reach. This will be easy.

The referee signaled the start of the match, and Alex immediately closed the distance between them. His opponent, instinctively, threw a jab to establish his range. But Alex was already inside, moving like lightning.

Before the jab could even touch him, Alex stepped in and landed a sharp cross to his opponent's face. The crowd gasped. The impact was so clean, so fast, that Alex's opponent stepped back, slightly stunned. But he quickly raised his guard, preparing for what he expected would be a barrage of punches.

But Alex didn't deliver a single punch. Instead, he did something that shocked everyone.

With his opponent now in a high guard, Alex saw the opening. His left fist shot forward, and with rapid precision, he unleashed a five-piece combination so fast that his opponent didn't have time to react. First, a lead hook to the body. Then another hook, this one to the head. Before the opponent could even raise his guard, Alex threw a sharp uppercut that landed with a sickening thud.

The opponent stumbled back, wide-eyed, his defense crumbling. Alex followed up with one last clean punch—a straight right to the head that sent the guy reeling backward, unable to stay on his feet. He collapsed onto the canvas, unable to recover. The referee stepped in, waving his hands to stop the fight.

The crowd was silent for a second before they exploded into applause. It wasn't just the speed; it was the sheer precision of Alex's combo, the flawless execution that left his opponent unable to react.

Alex, with his usual smirk, turned to the crowd. The noise was deafening, but he was already walking away, his mind already elsewhere.

Then, as if on cue, Alex raised one hand, strutting across the ring with a confident swagger. The McGregor walk, he thought, and before he even realized it, he was doing it. He laughed, mocking his own behavior, feeling on top of the world. Why not? No Conor McGregor here... but it's my walk now.

The crowd was in awe, some even laughing at the audacity. The referees and coaches looked at him like he was crazy, but they couldn't deny it—this was a new kind of confidence in the ring.

As Mashiba, who had been observing the fight from the sidelines, witnessed Alex's performance, his expression shifted for a moment. He raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised at how effortlessly Alex had handled his opponent. This kid... Mashiba thought, frowning. That's some real power, fast and precise...

Mashiba hadn't expected Alex to be so quick and efficient. It was one thing to be confident, but to back it up with such ruthless precision was something else entirely. He had expected a cocky fight with too much flair, but Alex had delivered a clean and devastating performance.

Mashiba narrowed his eyes as he left the gym, his mind now processing Alex's style. I'm going to have to keep an eye on him.

Mashiba Timer: 2 minutes 45 seconds

Ippo Timer: 2 minutes 10 seconds

Alex Timer: 15 seconds

To Be Continued…