Isekai in Hajime no Ippo with Gaolang’s Template

The gym hummed with activity, the air thick with the smell of sweat and the faint squeak of sneakers against the polished wooden floor. Ippo and Alex stood in front of Kamogawa, their expressions attentive as the coach held a clipboard in one hand and tapped it with his pen in the other.

"Listen up," Kamogawa began, his gruff voice commanding their focus. "Your next fights are set. Let me break down what you're up against."

He looked at Ippo first. "Makunouchi, you'll be fighting Fujiwara Yoshio. Record: one win, one loss. His style is similar to yours—he's a power puncher with a solid foundation. Stocky build, no nonsense. Bald, no eyebrows, looks like he's carved out of stone."

Alex smirked, glancing at Ippo. "Sounds like a tough guy. You ready for that?"

Ippo nodded, determination lighting up his face. "I'll do my best, Coach!"

Kamogawa turned to Alex, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And you. Your opponent is Okuma Setsuko. Two wins, one loss. He's aggressive—a volume puncher who likes to overwhelm his opponents with a constant barrage. Lean build, same height as you. He's got that street brawler vibe, like a gangster in boxing gloves."

Alex rolled his shoulders, his smirk widening. "Sounds like fun."

Kamogawa crossed his arms. "It won't be fun if you underestimate him. Both of you need to focus. Fujiwara's power makes him dangerous if you let him get close, and Okuma's volume can wear you down if you're not careful."

Tailored Strategies

Kamogawa directed his attention back to Ippo. "Makunouchi, you'll need to sharpen your peek-a-boo style for this one. Fujiwara's power punches will test your defense. I want you slipping, weaving, and staying tight. Understand?"

"Yes, Coach!" Ippo replied, his fists clenching with resolve.

When Kamogawa's gaze shifted to Alex, the younger boxer spoke up first. "Coach, I've been thinking… I want to try something different this time."

Kamogawa raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Different? Explain."

Alex hesitated for a moment, then leaned closer, his voice dropping slightly. "I want to use a style that'll attract attention—not just in the ring, but across Japan. Something that'll make people remember me."

The gym seemed to quiet slightly as Ippo and even Yagi, who had been organizing equipment nearby, turned their heads.

"A style, huh?" Kamogawa said, his voice carefully neutral. "You've got something in mind?"

Alex nodded, but his smirk carried an air of mystery. "Yeah. But first, I need to know if I've got the build for it. Can you measure my height and wingspan?"

Kamogawa studied Alex for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded. "Alright. Let's see what we're working with."

Measurements

Alex stood against the wall as Kamogawa marked his height. "You've grown a bit. Five-foot-eight now," the coach announced.

"Not bad," Alex said with a grin.

Next came the wingspan. Kamogawa used a tape measure, carefully stretching it from fingertip to fingertip. "Seventy-two inches. Longer than average for your height. Interesting."

Alex's grin widened. "Perfect. That's exactly what I needed to know."

Kamogawa's eyes narrowed slightly. "This style of yours better not be some gimmick. You're a boxer, not a showman."

"It's not a gimmick, Coach," Alex said seriously. "Trust me. If this works, people won't stop talking about it."

Kamogawa grunted, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Fine. But don't waste my time. If you're going to train for this, you'd better put everything you've got into it."

"Deal," Alex replied, his tone brimming with confidence.

Training and Routine

The rest of the training session was grueling. Kamogawa pushed Ippo and Alex to their limits, drilling Ippo on his peek-a-boo defense and challenging Alex to perfect his reach and movement. Every punch, slip, and weave was scrutinized, every mistake corrected with Kamogawa's sharp, no-nonsense critiques.

By the time they were finished, both fighters were drenched in sweat, their breaths coming in short gasps.

"Good work today," Kamogawa said, handing them towels. "But don't think for a second that you're ready. There's still a lot to do."

"Yes, Coach," they replied in unison.

The Part-Time Job

Later that evening, Alex walked into the convenience store where he worked part-time. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly as he tied on his apron and clocked in. His coworker, a cheerful girl around his age, greeted him with a smile.

"Hey, Alex! Long day at the gym?"

"Always," he replied with a grin. "Boxing doesn't pay the bills—yet."

As they stocked shelves together, Alex's mind wandered back to the gym, to his mysterious new style, and to the plan forming in his mind. He was going to make waves, not just for himself, but for the family that had given him everything.

To Be Continued…