Three months had passed since Ippo began his intensive training for the rematch with Miyata. The transformation was evident not just in his physical capabilities, but in the way he carried himself through his daily life.
Walking home from school, Ippo noticed that his former bullies were keeping their distance. Umezawa and his gang spotted him from across the street, but instead of approaching, they seemed to watch him with a mixture of wariness and curiosity.
"Look how fast he's walking," one of them muttered. "Like he's got somewhere important to be."
They didn't even attempt to follow him. Something about Ippo had changed—his posture was straighter, his movements more confident, and there was an intensity in his eyes that hadn't been there before.
At home, Ippo found his mother preparing dinner in the kitchen.
"Mom," he said, sitting down at the small table, "do you think I've changed over the past three months?"
Hiroko paused in her cooking and turned to look at her son. The change was obvious to her—his shoulders were broader, his face had lost some of its softness, and most importantly, he seemed more settled in himself.
"You've definitely grown stronger," she said with a gentle smile. "But you're still my same sweet boy. Why do you ask?"
"I have an important match tomorrow. A rematch with someone really skilled."
"Are you nervous?"
Ippo considered the question. "A little. But Mom, when you used to fish with dad, how did you deal with the difficult catches?"
Hiroko laughed softly. "Your father always told me to imagine the fish's face when I was struggling to reel one in. Said it made them less intimidating."
"Imagine their face as a fish?" Ippo repeated, an idea forming.
"It might sound silly, but it worked for me."
The next morning, Ippo went for his usual jog through the neighborhood. As he ran past the local shops, he noticed a girl on a bicycle riding nearby. She had shoulder-length dark hair and seemed to be heading in the same direction as the gym.
For a moment, their eyes met as she pedaled past, and Ippo felt his cheeks warm. But he quickly refocused on his training—today was not the day for distractions.
---
At the Kamogawa Gym, there was an unusual buzz of activity. A man in a suit with a notebook and camera was talking to Yagi near the entrance.
"Excuse me," the man said as Ippo entered. "I'm Minoru Fujii from Boxing Fan magazine. I'm working on a new article series called 'Meeting New Faces.' I understand there's an interesting sparring match happening today?"
"That's right," Yagi replied. "Between two of our most promising young fighters."
Aoki and Kimura wandered over, curious about the visitor.
"A real reporter?" Aoki said with excitement. "Are we going to be in a magazine?"
"I'm primarily here to interview Miyata," Fujii explained, "but I'm always interested in meeting boxers with potential."
"Well, you're in for a treat," Kimura said. "This rematch should be something special."
Fujii noticed Takamura approaching, dressed unusually formally with a bow tie.
"Interesting attire," Fujii commented.
"I'm the referee today," Takamura announced proudly. "Got to look professional for such an important match."
Fujii's interest was clearly piqued. "Mind if I watch and take some notes?"
"The more the merrier," Takamura grinned. "You're about to see some real boxing."
In the locker room, Ippo changed into his boxing gear, his movements methodical and focused. The three months of preparation had led to this moment, and he could feel Yuto's experiences flowing through him—not overwhelming him, but providing a steady foundation of understanding.
"Remember," he said to himself, "prevent him from controlling the distance. Use the dart and dash. And when the opportunity comes..."
He practiced the uppercut motion once in the air, feeling the power coiled in his legs and hips.
As he made his way to the ring, he tried to follow his mother's advice and imagine Miyata as a fish. But every time he looked at his opponent's serious, focused expression, the image failed to stick.
"A fish," he muttered. "Think of him as a fish."
Instead, his mind kept seeing an octopus—and suddenly he realized Kamogawa was standing behind him.
"Don't worry about fish or octopi," the coach said gruffly. "Just show me what you've learned in these three months."
Both fighters made their way to the center of the ring where Takamura, looking surprisingly official in his bow tie, began explaining the rules.
"Four rounds, three minutes each," Takamura announced. "This is sparring, but I want you both to fight seriously. Let's see how much you've both improved."
Ippo and Miyata touched gloves, and for a moment, both recalled their earlier conversation about this rematch.
"I won't go easy on you," Miyata had said weeks ago.
"I wouldn't want you to," Ippo had replied.
Now, facing each other in the ring, both fighters understood that this was more than just practice. This was a test of everything they'd learned, everything they'd worked for.
"Boxers ready?" Takamura called out.
Both fighters nodded and returned to their corners.
The gym fell silent except for the sound of breathing and the quiet shuffling of feet on canvas.
DING!
The opening bell rang, and immediately Ippo rushed forward—but his approach was completely different from their first encounter. Instead of charging recklessly, his movement had purpose and control.
He threw a series of jabs as he advanced, each one designed to disrupt Miyata's preferred distance rather than to land cleanly. Miyata moved to dodge, but something was wrong—Ippo was reading his movement patterns.
After the initial exchange, Ippo managed to adjust and anticipate where Miyata would be. When Miyata attempted to create space for a counter, Ippo was already there, cutting off his angle.
Miyata prepared to throw his first real punch of the match—a sharp straight left aimed at creating distance. But as he extended his arm, Ippo wasn't where he expected him to be.
The dart and dash technique had evolved into something more dangerous. Instead of dashing back, Ippo darted to the side, maintaining relentless pressure like a true in-fighter. Every movement was designed to keep Miyata uncomfortable, never letting him settle into his preferred range.
It was like a game of cat and mouse, but Ippo was both predator and prey—darting in from unexpected angles, always pressing forward, never giving Miyata the space he needed to set up his counters.
When Miyata tried to circle away, Ippo cut off the angle. When Miyata attempted to create distance, Ippo was already closing it. The pressure was constant, suffocating, relentless.
Finally, in his frustration at being unable to control the distance, Miyata overcommitted to a counter. In that moment of his overextension, Ippo exploded forward with a clean one-two combination that caught Miyata square on the jaw.
PAH! PAH!
The gym erupted as Miyata's legs buckled and he went down for the first time in the match.
"One! Two! Three!" Takamura began the count.
Miyata's eyes were wide with shock as he sat on the canvas. This wasn't the same Ippo he'd dominated three months ago. This fighter was reading him, anticipating him, disrupting his game plan at every turn.
"Eight! Nine!"
Miyata got to his feet, but his mind was racing. "He's completely different. How did he improve so much in just three months?"
As they resumed fighting, both boxers understood that the rematch they'd both anticipated had truly begun. This wasn't going to be a repeat of their first encounter—this was going to be a real fight between two fighters who had both evolved.
Ippo felt the familiar surge of Yuto's memories—not of specific techniques, but of the feeling of breaking through limits.
The first knockdown was his, but there were still three and a half rounds to go.
And Miyata was just getting started.