Swish! Swish! Swish!
A barrage of punches echoed through Kamogawa Gym.Inside the ring, Ippo—headgear on—was swaying side to side, rhythmically launching a flurry of hooks with fierce intent.
Across from him, Alex read the timing and threw a right cross between the gaps. as He jumped back mid-motion.
Pop!The punch landed cleanly on Ippo's headgear, knocking him backward. He sat down hard on the canvas, stunned.
Alex didn't celebrate. He looked Ippo dead in the eyes.
"You see the weakness now? That Dempsey Roll—it's powerful, yeah. But it's got openings. You need to be prepared. Sendo might've already studied those weaknesses."
Ippo slowly got to his feet, breathing heavily. He removed his gloves and peeled off the headgear, sweat pouring down his face. He lowered his eyes to the mat.
"…How do I improve now?"
Coach Kamogawa, standing at the side with his arms crossed, rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Your Dempsey Roll still isn't complete," But it can be improved."
Alex raised an eyebrow in surprise.
Ippo's eyes lit up with hope at the coach's words.
In the background, the sound of fists hitting heavy bags stopped. Takamura and Kimura turned to watch with curious expressions.
Coach Kamogawa stepped forward. "That's right, kid. There's room to grow. The Dempsey Roll rhythm—it's too predictable. You fall into a pattern. If your opponent reads it, it's over."
especially if you meet a counterpuncher.
He paused, his tone turning stern.
"But—if we take it further, you'll be putting a huge amount of stress on your legs and hips. You might end up with permanent damage. I'll need time to think about whether it's worth it."
Ippo's bright expression turned desperate.
"Coach, please! I'll train my body to its limits no, even beyond that, if I have to. Just give me a chance!"
As Ippo pleaded, Alex hopped out of the ring, pulling off his gloves.
"Hey, Kimura, Takamura," "You guys wanna grab something to eat?"
He stretched his arms as he walked toward the door. "The building next door's already done. Cafeteria's open now—got personal chefs and even a med room to keep thier bodies in top condition."
Takamura shook his head. "It's not my scheduled time yet."
Beside him, Kimura's stomach let out a loud growl. Alex gave him a side glance.
"…Let's go," Alex waved his hands, pushing open the gym doors.
Meanwhile – Tijuana, Mexico
"Hello everyone, a Blond man with a mustache is holding a mic, I'm Peter Kent from Everyday Sports," said the clean-cut host standing in front of a gym in Tijuana. The camera shifted to show dozens of heavy bags swinging and boxers doing some drills and sparring.
"We're here, live, to speak with the number one pound-for-pound boxer in the world—Julio César Chávez."
The camera panned right.
There he was—Chávez. Calm. Stoic.
Chávez stood up from the bench as Kent approached. Kent extended his hand with a respectful smile.
"I'm honored you agreed to this interview."
A translator stood beside them, relaying the message in Spanish. Chávez nodded and responded politely.
"No worries," he said with a smile.
Kent adjusted his tie.
"I'm here to talk about your upcoming fight with Andy Holligan. When will it happen, and what does this mean for your legacy?"
After the translator finished, Chávez looked at the camera and spoke with pride.
"This is a big step forward for my legacy. My record speaks for itself—88 wins, 77 by knockout. I've never lost. I only want to fight the best of the best"
Kent's eyes lit up.
"Well then—what's your opinion on Alex Makunouchi possibly moving up to junior welterweight to fight you?"
Kent smiled, but Chávez's face twisted slightly—like he'd bitten into something sour. He quickly masked it with a neutral expression and replied, almost reluctantly.
"…That would be good. A match like that—number one versus number two? It's a dream fight."
Then, without another word, Chávez turned and walked away.
The camera stayed on his back for a moment too long—capturing he's attitude towards this possible fight.
"Meanwhile, in New York City..."
The screen fades in to reveal two suited-up anchors behind a sleek desk in the ESPN studio.
"Hello and welcome back! I'm John," the host says with energy, "and this is my partner, Calvin."
The camera zooms in on them as the background music fades.
"We're here with some breaking news from the boxing world," Calvin adds, adjusting his tie.
"April 2nd, at the MGM Grand Garden Arena," Calvin continues with excitement, "the number one pound-for-pound boxer in the world, Julio César Chávez, will defend his WBC Junior Welterweight title against the number two contender, Andy Holligan."
"That's not all," John jumps in. "The co-main event is just as massive—IBF Champion Miguel Ángel González will defend his title for the first time against the number three contender… Jean-Pierre Manuel."
John slams his hands on the desk, catching Calvin off guard.
"This is a huge card!" John exclaims. "We're not just watching Chávez. Jean-Pierre is stepping into his toughest fight yet!"
Calvin flinches slightly, then regains his composure and straightens his tie.
"You startled me there… but you're right. There's a lot of talk. People are saying Jean might be comparable to Alex Makunouchi. Some even say he's better—because we've never seen Jean get dropped or struggle in the ring."
John grins.
"That's true. Alex and Jean have a similar skill set—both fast, both rely on their jabs. But let's not ignore the rumors. There are whispers that Alex is blatantly ducking Jean-Pierre Manuel."
Calvin frowns, and his hands on slammed the table.
"I have to disagree with that," he says firmly. "First of all, Alex moved up to junior welterweight to chase The number 1 P4P Chávez, not to avoid Jean. And second—have you seen Alex's physique? The man's 5'10 or 5'11. He's been draining himself to make the lightweight limit. That could explain why he was dropped in the first Marcus Rosario fight. Cutting that much weight weakens the chin."
John crosses his arms.
"I don't buy it. Let's not discredit what Marcus did. He dropped Alex fair and square in that first bout. And yeah—Alex has flaws. But that's what makes him human. That's why people love him."
"But Jean?" John pauses. "Jean-Pierre Manuel is a fucking monster. Every fight, he ends it within two or three rounds. No emotions. No drama. Just Domination."
"If Jean had been born in a different era, he would have been a gladiator. That guy is destined to be the best; you can see it in his eyes."
John continued, "And yet, now that he's up on the Rankings in lightweight. Alex moves up… and suddenly the timing looks suspicious."
Calvin scoffs. "Exactly. Jean is about the same height as Alex, but you have to consider Alex's body frame. He's built for heavyweight—I can see it."
Their voices rise as the two hosts begin quarreling live on-air, cutting each other off, talking over one another. The disagreement grows more heated until the studio producers cut the feed—abruptly ending the broadcast.