Ippo woke up feeling sore all over the body.
Not the usual tiredness from carrying baskets of fish or running laps, instead a deep ache settled into his legs, back, and shoulders. Every movement reminded him of yesterday's training. The weight of the bar pressing down on his every being.
He sat up slowly, wincing.
"So this is what muscle training feels like…" he muttered.
After breakfast, he headed to Heavenly Sunrise as usual. The familiar smell of mats and disinfectant greeted him the moment he stepped inside. Compared to Silverman's Gym, this place felt quieter, and somehow heavier.
Ying Zheng was already there.
He stood near the center of the floor, blindfold on, arms relaxed at his sides. Even still, he gave off pressure. Ippo had noticed it more lately. Maybe because he was now paying more attention.
"You're late." Ying said.
"I-I'm sorry!" Ippo straightened. "My legs are still really sore."
"Start getting used to it." Ying replied. "You'll have to use them even when sore anyway."
The training started light. Footwork drills, shadowboxing without punches, just movement. Ying corrected every mistake of Ippo's stances with a tap of his foot or a short comment.
"Too narrow."
"Shift your weight."
"Don't drag your feet."
Ippo did his best, even as his legs trembled.
Then the door slid open.
"Yo."
The voice was loud, casual, and completely out of place.
A tall man walked in, hands in his pockets, messy hair and a grin that looked like trouble. His eyes immediately locked onto Ippo.
"…Who's the shrimp?"
Ippo froze.
Ying turned his head. "You're earlier than expected."
Takamura Mamoru laughed. "I was bored. Figured I'd see what kind of brat you're insisting on me training."
He walked a slow circle around Ippo, looking him up and down.
"Skinny. Short. He doesn't look like much compared to what you yapped about."
Ippo felt his face heat up. "S-Sorry!"
Ying spoke calmly. "This is Ippo Makunouchi. He's the one you are going to teach boxing."
Takamura raised an eyebrow. "It's really him, huh?"
He leaned in closer, eyes sharp now. "Hey kid, you ever punched people before?"
"I-I'm trying to," Ippo said.
Takamura snorted. "That's cute."
Ying ignored the comment. "Ippo, this is Takamura Mamoru. The one I told you last time."
Ippo's eyes widened. "The p-professional?!"
Takamura grinned. "The best you'll ever meet."
Before Ippo could say anything else, Ying turned toward the exit waving his hand high.
"With that said, I have a business to handle." He said. "I'll be gone for a while."
Takamura blinked. "You're leaving him with me?"
"Yes."
Takamura crossed his arms and looked down at Ippo, a smirk tugging at his face.
"You sure about this, blindfold?" he said. "You're really leaving the runt with me? I won't be gentle."
Ying stopped at the door but didn't turn around.
"Yes, I know." he said. "That's why I asked you."
Takamura barked out a laugh. "Hah. Fair enough. Alright, kid. Let's see what you've got."
Ying walked out without another word. The door clicked shut behind him.
Ippo swallowed. Under Takamura's gaze, he suddenly felt very small.
Takamura cracked his knuckles. "First thing, shrimp. Drop the bag. Basics first. Show me your stance."
Ippo set his bag down and raised his fists. Awkward. Uneven. But he was trying.
Takamura circled him, eyes sharp. "Tch. Your form is too tense and your shoulders being slumped too. You are too scared to get hit and instead of wanting to hit back, you want to focus on defense."
He stepped in and shoved Ippo's feet wider apart, then straightened his back with a rough tap.
"There. Now punch as hard as you can at the air."
Ippo threw a jab. Fast, but loose.
"That it?" Takamura snorted. "Come on do it like you mean it."
Ippo threw another, putting his weight into it.
Better.
Takamura grinned. "Not bad. But you punch like a wuss. We'll fix that."
The next hour was brutal.
Jab. Cross. Hook. Uppercut.
No breaks and no mercy.
Ippo's arms burned. His lungs screaming. Sweat dripping into his eyes but nevertheless Takamura didn't slow down the training.
"Again!" Takamura barked. "Faster! Harder! You wanna box or you wanna go back to hauling fish?"
"I… I want to box!" Ippo shouted through clenched teeth.
"Then show me!"
Despite the insults, Ippo felt something click. Takamura's instructions were rough, but they worked.
Afterward, the two sat on the floor, Ippo drenched in sweat.
"Are you really serious?" Takamura said suddenly.
Ippo looked up. "Huh?"
"About boxing." Takamura continued. "You're not doing this for fun are you?"
Takamura leaned back slightly and crossed his arms. The grin faded from his face, replaced by something sharper. His eyes drilling into Ippo.
"You're not doing this for fun, are you?" he said again. "Because if you are, turn around and go home. Boxing isn't a game. There's going to be a lot of blood, broken bones, and the need to stand back up even when you'd rather stay down."
Ippo straightened, wiping the sweat from his face. His arms felt heavy but Takamura's words weighed more.
"N-No!" Ippo said quickly. "I'm serious. I… I want to be strong. Strong enough to stand up for myself. To protect my mom. To stop being weak."
Takamura studied him in silence. Then he snorted.
"Protect your mom, huh? Sounds nice." He pushed off the wall and stood, looming over Ippo. "But strength isn't about protecting. It's about crushing what's in your way."
He jerked his chin toward the mat. "Get up."
Ippo forced himself to his feet, legs shaking.
Takamura tossed a pair of gloves at him. "Put those on. We're sparring lightly. I want to see if you're worth the time."
Ippo stared. "S-Sparring? Already?"
Takamura grinned, all teeth. "What, scared? That's the world, kid. It doesn't wait for you to be ready."
Ippo pulled the gloves on, hands trembling. He raised his fists anyway.
Takamura slipped on his own gloves, loose and casual, like he didn't even need them.
They circled.
Takamura flicked out a lazy jab.
Ippo ducked, too slow. It brushed his shoulder.
"Tch. Faster."
Another jab.
This time Ippo slipped it and threw a cross. Takamura leaned back, letting it pass by a hair.
"Not bad," Takamura said. "But weak. Punch like you hate me."
Ippo clenched his teeth and threw harder.
The spar went on for ten minutes. Takamura barely tried, weaving and blocking, tapping Ippo with light shots that still stung like hell. Every mistake got punished. Every opening slowly disappeared.
Ippo's breathing turned ragged. Sweat soaking his shirt but he didn't stop.
Finally, Takamura stepped back.
"Enough."
Ippo lowered his hands, gasping.
Takamura looked at him. No smirk. No jokes.
"You've got guts, shrimp. I'll give you that."
Ippo blinked. "R-Really?"
"Yeah," Takamura said. "But guts alone won't save you. This world's full of monsters. Guys who'll break you just because they can."
He turned away, voice flat.
"If you're sticking around that blindfolded guy… you better be ready for that."
Elsewhere.
The underground arena was still as loud as ever.
Ying stood barefoot on cold stone, blindfold still covering his eyes. Across from him, his opponent bounced lightly on his feet, eyes sharp, body coiled.
The signal sounded.
Ying stepped in forward fast.
His opponent in surprise unconsciously throw a right straight punch.
Ying dodges to the right leaving no wasted motion.
Punching the chin at an acute angle. The first strike snapped the opponent's head sideways causing the brain to shake inside the skull.
Then the second strike landed before the body could react. Uppercutting the jaw, shaking the brain even more.
The third drove straight through the falling body. Landing a devastating side kick to the head that fully knocked his opponent into unconsciousness.
Three consecutive blows. Clean. Precise. Brain-shaking.
The opponent collapsed before even hitting the ground.
Silence. Crowd stunned at the speed of the match.
Ying exhaled slowly.
"Done."
The referee rushed in, already waving his arms.
"Match over!"
Medics slid onto the stone floor, checking the fallen fighter. There was no need to count. The man was already out cold, eyes unfocused, body limp.
The crowd exploded a second later.
Shouts, curses, laughter, disbelief. People stood from their seats, leaning over rails, trying to understand what they had just seen.
"That was it?"
"Three hits?"
"He didn't even get time to fight back!"
Ying stood still, breathing steady. No adrenaline rush. No triumph. Just boredom.
The blindfold hid his eyes but his head tilted slightly, listening to the chaos around him.
From the upper level, several figures watched in silence.
One of them clicked his tongue. "That was clean. Too clean to even properly gauge his strength."
Another crossed his arms. "Three consecutive brain-shakers and high precision strikes. That wasn't how he fought Robinson, it seems another variable to crush in the plan."
A tall man in a tailored suit, a burned scar running along his left eye, smiled faintly. The man was unmistakable to anyone familiar with Toyo Company.
"So this is that woman's masterpiece."
Below, Ying turned and walked away from the body without another glance. His footsteps echoed against the stone as he headed for the tunnel.
A Kengan official stepped aside quickly. "Your membership fight is approved. You'll be entered into the records."
Ying nodded once.
There was no celebration. No speech.
Just business.
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