DING!
Round four began with a different Miyata entirely.
Gone was the desperate, hurt fighter from the previous round. In his place stood someone who had found his second wind, his eyes sharp and calculating as he bounced on his toes.
"I've been fighting his fight," Miyata muttered to himself, circling carefully. "Time to make him fight mine."
Ippo came forward as usual, his pressure relentless, but Miyata was ready this time. Instead of trying to match Ippo's inside game, he began using his superior reach and footwork to control the distance.
Jab. Step back. Jab. Circle away.
Each punch wasn't meant to hurt—it was meant to disrupt Ippo's rhythm, to keep him at the end of punches where his devastating close-range power couldn't reach.
"Smart," Kamogawa observed from Miyata's corner. "He's finally fighting his own fight instead of getting dragged into a brawl."
Ippo pressed forward, trying to close the distance, but Miyata's footwork was poetry in motion. Every time Ippo thought he had an angle, Miyata would glide away, always just out of reach.
PAH!
A sharp straight left caught Ippo square on the nose, snapping his head back. It wasn't a power shot, but it was clean and perfectly timed.
"There we go!" someone from Miyata's corner called out. "Control the distance!"
But Ippo kept coming, his face now showing a trickle of blood from his nose. The sight of his own blood seemed to energize him rather than discourage him.
He feinted left, then exploded forward with his devastating right hook—
But Miyata wasn't there.
PAH!
The counter left hand caught Ippo flush on the temple as he committed to the hook. For a moment, the gym spun around him like a carnival ride.
His legs wobbled, and he took a step back, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs.
"First time he's been hurt!" Aoki shouted from the crowd.
Miyata pressed his advantage immediately, unleashing a beautiful combination—jab, straight left, left hook. Each punch was thrown with precision and bad intentions.
PAH! PAH! PAH!
Ippo's guard held, but the force of the blows was driving him backward. For the first time in the fight, he was on the defensive.
"That's it, Miyata!" his corner screamed. "Keep him at the end of your punches!"
But even hurt, Ippo's ring craft remained exceptional. He slipped the follow-up straight left and tried to duck inside, looking for the close-range warfare where he dominated.
Miyata was ready.
As Ippo ducked, Miyata's knee came up slightly—not enough to be called a foul, but enough to catch Ippo off balance. In that split second of confusion, Miyata's right hand came over the top like a hammer.
PAH!
The overhand right caught Ippo behind the ear, and suddenly the canvas was rushing up to meet him.
THUD!
The gym exploded as Ippo hit the deck for the first time in the fight.
"One! Two! Three!"
"Get up, kid!" Takamura roared from the corner. "This ain't over!"
Ippo's head was spinning, but he could hear Takamura's voice cutting through the fog. More importantly, he could feel something stirring in the depths of his mind—memories of Yuto getting knocked down, over and over, but always finding a way to get back up.
"Four! Five! Six!"
Ippo rolled to his hands and knees, his vision still slightly blurred but clearing rapidly.
"Seven!"
He stood up, his legs still shaky but his eyes focused and determined.
"I can continue," he said clearly to the referee.
The crowd erupted in appreciation. Getting dropped by one of Miyata's counters and standing back up showed incredible heart.
Miyata nodded respectfully. "You're tougher than I thought."
But now he had the blueprint. Keep Ippo at distance, use his superior boxing skills, and wait for opportunities to counter. The power advantage meant nothing if Ippo couldn't land clean shots.
They resumed fighting, and immediately Miyata went back to his game plan. Jab, move, jab, move. Control the tempo, control the distance.
Ippo tried to press forward, but his movements were slightly less sharp now. The knockdown had taken something out of him—not his heart, but his timing was just a fraction off.
PAH!
Another clean straight left caught him on the chin. Not enough to drop him, but enough to snap his head back and remind him of Miyata's reach advantage.
"Beautiful boxing!" someone called out from the crowd.
DING!
Round four ended with Miyata clearly in control. As both fighters returned to their corners, the shift in momentum was obvious to everyone in the gym.
"How you feeling?" Takamura asked, examining Ippo's face.
"I'm okay," Ippo replied, though his voice was slightly thick. "He's really good at keeping distance."
"Yeah, he is. But you hurt him bad in the early rounds. His body is breaking down even if he's not showing it. You just need to get inside one more time."
Across the ring, Miyata was getting a very different pep talk.
"Perfect round," his corner said. "You found your rhythm. Keep doing exactly what you're doing—use your jab, control distance, and counter when he comes in reckless."
"I can see his patterns now," Miyata said, breathing heavily but with confidence returning to his voice. "He's incredibly skilled at close range, but he telegraphs his entries. I can time him."
DING!
Round five began with both fighters knowing this would likely be the deciding round.
Miyata came out boxing beautifully, his jab snapping Ippo's head back repeatedly. Each punch was setting up the next one, creating openings for bigger shots.
PAH!
A straight left caught Ippo clean on the jaw, and his legs immediately went rubbery.
"He's hurt again!" the crowd roared.
Miyata sensed blood in the water and pressed forward, throwing combinations with bad intentions. But even hurt, Ippo's defensive instincts were incredible. He slipped and ducked, avoiding the worst of the follow-up shots.
Still, the accumulation of punishment was taking its toll. His nose was bleeding freely now, and his left eye was starting to swell.
Desperate to turn the tide, Ippo threw everything into one final charge. He lowered his head and bull-rushed forward, looking to get inside where his power could end the fight.
But Miyata had seen this exact pattern three times already.
As Ippo charged in, head down and right hand cocked, Miyata stepped slightly to his left and let his opponent's momentum carry him into the perfect counter position.
Time seemed to slow down.
Ippo's right hook was already in motion, thrown with everything he had left. If it landed, the fight would be over.
But Miyata's straight left was faster.
PAH!
The counter punch caught Ippo flush on the chin with perfect timing and placement. It wasn't the hardest punch of the fight, but it was the most precise—catching Ippo at the exact moment when he was completely committed to his own attack and couldn't defend.
Ippo's eyes rolled back, his legs turned to jelly, and he crumpled to the canvas like a marionette with its strings cut.
THUD!
This time, he wasn't getting up.
"One! Two! Three! Four! Five!"
The gym was completely silent except for the referee's count.
"Six! Seven! Eight!"
Ippo's eyes fluttered, and he tried to push himself up, but his body wasn't responding properly.
"Nine! Ten!"
DING! DING! DING!
"It's over!" the referee announced. "Miyata wins by knockout!"
The gym erupted in mixed reactions—appreciation for both fighters' incredible performance, but also shock at how the fight had ended.
Miyata immediately went to check on Ippo, helping him sit up against the ropes.
"You okay?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice.
Ippo blinked several times, his vision slowly clearing. "Did I... did I lose?"
"Yeah, but you gave me the hardest fight I've had in years," Miyata replied. "That body work in the early rounds... I've never been hit that hard."
As the trainers helped Ippo to his feet, the entire gym began applauding. What they'd witnessed was far beyond what anyone had expected from a beginner's first sparring session.
"Incredible," Kamogawa said as he approached Ippo. "In forty years of boxing, I've never seen anything like what you did in those first three rounds."
"But I lost," Ippo said, disappointment clear in his voice.
"Kid," Takamura interrupted, "you just went five rounds with one of the best young fighters in the country. And for the first three rounds, you were beating him. That's not losing—that's announcing your arrival."
The other gym members crowded around, all wanting to congratulate both fighters on an incredible match.
"That counter at the end," Aoki said to Miyata, "that was beautiful. Perfect timing."
"Had to be," Miyata replied. "If that right hook of his had landed, I'd be the one unconscious right now."
As the excitement died down and the gym returned to normal training, Ippo sat quietly in the corner, processing what had just happened.
He'd lost, yes. But for five rounds, he'd fought like a boxer. A real boxer.
And more importantly, he'd felt that same feeling he'd experienced when watching Yuto's memories—the feeling of being truly alive.
"Tomorrow," he said quietly to himself, "I start training for real."