Day one was a disaster.
Ippo stood under the tree after school, throwing jab after jab at the hanging leaves. His form was terrible, his timing was off, and after an hour of practice, he hadn't caught a single leaf.
Not even close.
"This is impossible," he muttered, his left arm already aching. But he kept throwing punches anyway.
A few kids from his school walked by and saw him boxing air under a tree. They whispered and laughed among themselves. Ippo's face burned with embarrassment, but he didn't stop.
By the time he got home, his knuckles were raw and his shoulder felt like it was on fire.
"Ippo, what happened to your hands?" his mom asked during dinner.
"Just... practicing something for school," he said, which wasn't entirely a lie.
That night, he lay in bed replaying Takamura's demonstration over and over. The speed, the precision, the control—it had looked effortless. But when Ippo tried to copy it, everything went wrong.
Maybe Takamura was right. Maybe he wasn't cut out for this world.
-
Day two was like trying to teach a fish to climb a tree.
Ippo had spent his lunch break reading about boxing stances in that magazine. He tried copying the diagrams, adjusting his feet, fixing his fist angle—everything the articles said to do.
He still whiffed on every single leaf.
But hey, at least he was whiffing with better form now! Progress, right?
"This is harder than it looks," he panted, his shoulder already screaming in protest. A couple of middle school kids walked by and pointed at him.
"Look, that high schooler is fighting a tree!"
"Maybe the tree said something mean about his mom!"
Great. Now he was the local entertainment.
-
Day three brought a revelation: people were starting to think he'd completely lost it.
"Is that the fish boy shadow boxing in the park?"
"Nah, looks more like he's swatting invisible mosquitoes."
"Maybe all that fish smell finally got to his brain!"
Ippo tried to block out the comments, but his face turned redder with each joke. Still, his jabs were getting snappier. He could feel his timing improving, even if the results didn't show it yet.
Then—contact! His knuckles barely grazed a leaf, just enough to make it flutter.
"YES! I TOUCHED ONE!" he shouted, pumping his fist like he'd just discovered fire.
The small crowd of onlookers exchanged worried glances.
"Should we call someone?"
"Like who? The leaf police?"
During lunch at school, Matsumura cornered him.
"Dude, people are saying you're having some kind of breakdown in the park. What's going on?"
"I'm not having a breakdown," Ippo protested. "I'm training!"
"Training for what? The Weird Olympics?"
Ippo couldn't explain without sounding completely insane, so he just mumbled something about "fitness goals" and changed the subject.
-
Day four: The universe decided to test his commitment by dumping buckets of rain on him.
Most sane people would have called it a day. Ippo was apparently not most people.
He stood under that tree like some kind of deranged samurai, throwing jabs in the pouring rain. Water dripped from his hair, his clothes were soaked through, and he could barely see the leaves through the downpour.
But he refused to quit.
"Just... one... more..." he gasped between punches, looking like a half-drowned scarecrow.
A police officer jogged over, genuinely concerned for this teenager's mental health.
"Son, you should head home. This weather's getting dangerous, and you're starting to worry the neighbors."
"Just a few more minutes, officer! I've almost got it!"
The cop looked at his absolutely drenched, determined face and just shook his head. "Your funeral, kid. Try not to get struck by lightning."
When Ippo finally dragged himself home, looking like he'd gone swimming fully clothed, he caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror.
His eyes looked different. Hungrier. More focused.
"I'm really doing this," he whispered to his reflection. "I'm actually changing."
-
Day five was when everything clicked.
Ippo had been practicing for hours when frustration finally got the better of him.
"This is impossible!" he yelled, throwing another wild jab that missed completely. "My fist is too tense, my timing is all wrong, I can't—"
Wait.
He stopped mid-swing, remembering something. Takamura's demonstration flashed through his mind like a movie scene. The way his hand had moved, so loose and relaxed at the last second...
"He loosened his knuckles," Ippo whispered, his eyes widening. "His whole arm was relaxed until impact!"
Ippo shook out his left hand, letting all the tension flow out of his fingers and wrist. Then he focused on a single leaf, keeping his arm loose and fluid.
The jab snapped out like a whip, and his knuckles gently closed around the leaf at the exact moment of contact.
"I GOT IT!" Ippo screamed so loud that a flock of birds scattered from the tree. "I ACTUALLY GOT IT!"
He danced around like he'd just won the lottery, clutching the perfect leaf in his hand. An old man walking his dog stared at him like he'd lost his mind.
One down. Nine to go.
But now he knew the secret. The technique finally made sense. For the first time since starting this crazy challenge, Ippo felt like he could actually pull this off.
-
Day six
Armed with the confidence from his first success, Ippo managed to catch three more leaves throughout the afternoon. His accuracy was improving, his speed increasing.
But his body was paying the price. His left arm felt like lead, his back ached from maintaining his stance, and his legs wobbled from exhaustion.
"Four leaves," he panted, looking at his small collection. "Six more to go."
Some of his classmates had started coming by to watch the spectacle. Most thought he was crazy, but a few seemed genuinely curious about what he was trying to accomplish.
"What's the point of all this?" Umezawa asked, appearing with his usual cronies.
Ippo turned to face his former bullies, and something in his eyes made them take a step back.
"I'm getting stronger," Ippo said simply.
The way he said it—calm, confident, certain—made Umezawa uncomfortable. This wasn't the same weak kid they used to push around.
Day seven. The final day.
Ippo had caught six leaves total. He needed four more to complete Takamura's challenge, and he had until sunset to do it.
School felt like it lasted forever. Every minute in class was a minute not spent practicing. When the final bell rang, Ippo sprinted to the park.
A small crowd had gathered—classmates, neighbors, even some adults who'd heard about the weird kid trying to catch leaves with his fists.
"No pressure," Ippo muttered to himself as he stepped under the tree.
His first jab was perfect. Leaf number seven.
The crowd murmured appreciatively.
His second attempt missed by inches. The third was too slow. The fourth was too high.
Time was running out. The sun was getting lower in the sky.
Ippo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He thought about Takamura's words, about the fighters on those tapes, about his own desperate plea to become stronger.
When he opened his eyes, everything felt different. Calmer. More focused.
Jab. Leaf number eight.
Jab. Leaf number nine.
The crowd was completely silent now, watching this strange drama unfold.
One more. Just one more leaf and he would have done it.
Ippo stared at a perfect leaf hanging just within reach. He could feel his heart pounding, could hear the whispers of the crowd, could sense the weight of this moment.
Everything depended on this next punch.
He threw the jab with everything he had—all his technique, all his determination, all his desperate need to change his life.
The leaf came away clean in his hand.
"TEN!" Ippo shouted, collapsing to his knees as the crowd erupted in cheers and applause.
He had done it. Against all odds, with no training, no experience, nothing but pure determination, he had completed Takamura's impossible challenge.
That night, Ippo sat in his room, staring at the ten leaves he'd arranged carefully on his desk. His entire body ached, but his heart felt light.
He was going to be a boxer. He was going to train with Takamura. He was going to become strong.
"I did it," he whispered to the empty room, breathing heavily from excitement and exhaustion. "I'm gonna become a boxer."
The words hung in the air, filled with promise and possibility.
And then the world changed.
What does it mean to be strong?
The question echoed in his mind, but this time it felt different. More real. More immediate.
Suddenly, the air in front of him began to shimmer and glow. Strange symbols and text appeared, hovering impossibly in the space before his eyes.
[SYSTEM ACTIVATION DETECTED]
[ANALYZING USER...]
[DETERMINATION: EXCEPTIONAL][PHYSICAL POTENTIAL: HIGH][MENTAL RESILIENCE: EXTRAORDINARY][BOXING FOUNDATION: None]
[WELCOME TO THE BOXER SYSTEM]
[FIRST TEMPLATE AVAILABLE: TAKEDA YUTO][ACQUIRE TEMPLATE? Y/N]
Ippo rubbed his eyes, certain he was hallucinating from exhaustion. But the glowing text remained, casting an eerie light across his small room.
"This... this can't be real," he stammered.
[REAL STRENGTH REQUIRES REAL COMMITMENT][YOU HAVE SHOWN THE FIRST STEP][WILL YOU TAKE THE NEXT?]
Ippo thought about the past week, about the impossible challenge he'd just completed through sheer willpower. He thought about Takamura's incredible speed and precision, about the fighters on those tapes who moved like artists of violence.
He thought about his tearful plea: "I want to be a new person."
Maybe this was his chance. Maybe this impossible, unbelievable thing was exactly what he needed to transform from the weak, bullied fish boy into someone who could stand tall and proud.
With a trembling finger, he reached toward the floating text and selected [Y].
[TEMPLATE ACQUIRED: TAKEDA YUTO "THE HERO"][ABILITIES UNLOCKED:]- EXCEPTIONAL SPEED AND REFLEXES- TECHNICAL PRECISION
- ANALYTICAL FIGHTING STYLE- PRESSURE BOXING MASTERY[UNLOCK PERCENTAGE: 0%]
[INTEGRATION BEGINNING...]
The world exploded into light and sensation as knowledge flooded into Ippo's mind. Fighting techniques, training methods, tactical approaches—all of it flowing into his consciousness like downloading a massive file into his brain.
When the light faded, Ippo found himself on his hands and knees, gasping for breath. His head felt like it might explode from all the new information.
He stood up shakily and threw a practice jab—and nearly fell over in shock. The punch was clean, precise, and somehow felt more natural than anything he'd ever done.
"What... what happened to me?" he whispered.
A translucent blue interface appeared in his vision, like something out of a video game:
[BOXER SYSTEM - USER PROFILE]Name: Ippo Makunouchi
Age: 16
Height: 164 cm
Weight: 55 kg
Template: Takeda Yuto "THE HERO"
Unlock Percentage: 0%
[TEMPLATE INTEGRATION COMPLETE][WELCOME TO YOUR NEW JOURNEY, IPPO MAKUNOUCHI]
The next morning, Ippo woke up feeling like a completely different person. His body was still sore from the week of training, but underneath that was a new awareness, a new control over his movements.
He met Takamura at the bridge as planned, carrying his ten leaves as proof of his success.
"Well I'll be damned," Takamura said, examining the leaves with genuine surprise. "You actually did it."
"I told you I would," Ippo replied, and something in his voice made Takamura look at him more carefully.
"You sound different, kid. More confident."
Ippo didn't know how to explain the system, so he just smiled. "I feel different."
Takamura nodded approvingly. "Good. That's the first step. But don't think this means you're ready for the gym yet."
"What do you mean?"
"Boxing isn't just about hand speed and technique. You need a foundation—core strength, back muscles, stamina. The kind of conditioning that'll keep you upright when someone's trying to put you down."
Takamura pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Ippo. It was covered with exercises—sit-ups, back extensions, planks, running routines.
"You've got one month to work on your conditioning. Do everything on this list, every day, no exceptions. If you can handle that without complaining, then I'll take you to the gym and we'll start real training."
Ippo looked at the extensive workout plan. A month ago, it would have seemed impossible. But now, with Yuto's template flowing through his system, he felt ready for anything.
"One month," he said firmly. "I'll be ready."