The morning after his devastating victory over Oda, Ippo walked through the school gates with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. Word of his knockout win at Kōrakuen Hall had spread like wildfire through the student body.
As he made his way to his classroom, he could feel the stares and hear the whispered conversations following him down the hallway.
"That's him," someone whispered. "The guy who knocked out that boxer in two rounds."
"No way. He looks so normal."
"I heard the punch was so hard it echoed through the entire arena."
Ippo tried to keep his head down, but the attention was unavoidable. When he reached his classroom, his classmates immediately surrounded him.
"Ippo! Is it true you're a professional boxer now?" Matsumura asked excitedly.
"We saw it on the sports news this morning!" another classmate added. "They said you have incredible knockout power!"
The attention continued throughout the morning classes, with students asking questions about his training, his diet, and whether he could really knock someone out with one punch. By lunch time, Ippo was feeling overwhelmed by the constant attention.
Deciding he needed some peace and quiet, Ippo headed up to the school roof to eat his lunch alone. But as he climbed the stairs, he heard familiar voices echoing from above.
"...told you we should have apologized after his first fight," one voice was saying.
"Yeah, but who knew he'd become this famous?" replied another.
Ippo's heart sank as he recognized the voices. Umezawa and his gang were already on the roof.
As he reached the top of the stairs, the three bullies turned to face him. But instead of their usual aggressive postures, they looked almost... nervous?
"Oh! Ippo!" Umezawa said with forced cheerfulness. "What a coincidence running into you here!"
"This is awkward," Ippo thought, standing frozen in the doorway. "Should I leave? Should I stay? What do they want?"
"We, uh," Takemura started, fidgeting with his lunch box, "we wanted to ask you about your fight last night."
"Yeah!" Matsuda chimed in. "How did you knock that guy out so fast? Was he really that weak, or are you just that strong?"
The questions were genuine, lacking the usual malicious undertone Ippo was used to hearing from them. They actually seemed... impressed?
Ippo sat down carefully, maintaining some distance between himself and the trio. "Well, my coach said I was holding back my power in the first round. When I stopped limiting myself in the second round, I was able to land a clean shot."
"Holding back?" Umezawa's eyes widened. "You mean you could have ended it even faster?"
"I... I guess so?" Ippo replied uncertainly.
The three bullies exchanged glances, clearly reevaluating everything they thought they knew about their former victim.
"So when's your next fight?" Takemura asked eagerly.
"I'm not sure yet. My coach hasn't told me."
"Can we come watch?" Matsuda asked suddenly, then immediately looked embarrassed by his own enthusiasm.
Ippo blinked in surprise. "You... want to watch me fight?"
"Well, yeah," Umezawa said, trying to sound casual. "I mean, we go to the same school. It's kind of cool having a real professional fighter as a classmate."
"A classmate?" Ippo thought. "Not 'fish boy' or 'punching bag.' Just... a classmate."
Before Ippo could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch period.
"We should head back," Umezawa said, standing up. "But, uh, Ippo?"
"Yes?"
"Good luck with your next fight."
As the three of them headed toward the stairs, Ippo heard Matsuda whisper to the others, "Maybe we should have been nicer to him from the beginning."
"You think?" Takemura replied sarcastically. "The guy could probably put us all in the hospital with one punch."
-----
Later that afternoon at the Kamogawa Gym, the atmosphere was buzzing with excitement. Reporter Fujii had returned, this time specifically to interview Ippo about his explosive debut.
"Makunouchi-kun," Fujii said, setting up his recording equipment, "could you walk me through your training routine? Our readers are fascinated by how someone can develop such devastating power."
But before Ippo could answer, Takamura wandered over with his typical lack of boundaries.
"You want to know about his training?" Takamura interrupted. "This kid hits the heavy bag so hard we have to replace them twice as often as normal."
"That's not true!" Ippo protested.
"And look at this," Takamura continued, ignoring Ippo's objection. He gestured toward the mitts that Kamogawa was holding. "Watch his technique."
Kamogawa, who had been observing Fujii's interview, decided to give the reporter a demonstration. "Put your hands up, Ippo. Show him your peek-a-boo style."
As Ippo got into position, Fujii immediately noticed something distinctive about his stance and movement.
"Incredible," Fujii muttered, scribbling notes rapidly. "His defensive posture is almost identical to Mike Tyson's peek-a-boo style. And look—he's even biting down on his mouthguard the same way Tyson used to."
The comparison to one of boxing's most feared heavyweight champions wasn't lost on anyone in the gym.
"That's not intentional," Ippo said quickly. "I just move the way that feels natural."
"Natural?" Fujii raised an eyebrow. "Most fighters take years to develop defensive instincts like that. You're telling me it just comes naturally?"
Kamogawa started the mitt work, and immediately the sharp PAH! PAH! PAH! of Ippo's punches filled the gym. Each impact was crisp, clean, and carried enormous power behind it.
"The sound alone is intimidating," Fujii observed. "I can feel the force of those punches from here."
After the training session, Fujii approached Ippo with a VHS tape.
"I thought you might be interested in this," he said, handing over the tape. "It's footage of Miyata's most recent match. From what I understand, you two have some history."
Ippo accepted the tape gratefully. "Thank you, Fujii-san. I've been wondering how he's been doing since he left the gym."
----
That evening, Ippo sat in his room watching Miyata's fight footage. His former gym mate looked even sharper than before—his counters were more precise, his footwork more refined, his overall ring IQ elevated to another level.
"He's gotten stronger too," Ippo thought, studying Miyata's technique. "When we meet again at the Rookie King Tournament, it's going to be an incredible fight."
The footage showed Miyata systematically breaking down his opponent with technical precision, landing clean shots while avoiding nearly everything thrown at him. It was a masterclass in out-boxing.
But Ippo noticed something else—there was a hunger in Miyata's movements, an intensity that hadn't been there during their gym sparring sessions. He was fighting like a man with something to prove.
"I need to get stronger too," Ippo realized. "If I don't want to be overtaken, I can't afford to coast on my current abilities."
---
The next morning at the gym, Kamogawa called Ippo over with news that would change everything.
"Your second professional fight has been arranged," the coach announced. "You'll be facing Yoshio Fujiwara from the Maeda Gym."
"When?" Ippo asked eagerly.
"Two weeks from now. Same venue—Kōrakuen Hall."
Takamura looked up from his training. "Fujiwara? I know that guy. He's tough, but he's got a reputation for fighting dirty."
"Dirty how?" Ippo asked with concern.
"Let's just say he's not above bending the rules when he's losing," Aoki chimed in. "Be careful of his head positioning in the clinches."
Kamogawa nodded grimly. "Fujiwara's record is 4-2, but both of his losses came by disqualification. He tends to get desperate when things aren't going his way."
"What should I do if he tries something illegal?" Ippo asked.
"Fight smart," Kamogawa replied. "Stay focused, don't let him frustrate you, and if you see an opening—take it."
Two weeks of intense training passed quickly. Ippo worked on his defensive positioning, particularly against dirty tactics like intentional head contact and low blows. Kamogawa drilled him relentlessly on maintaining his composure under pressure.
----
The day of the fight arrived, and as Ippo made his way to Kōrakuen Hall, he was surprised to see familiar faces in the crowd.
"Ippo!" a voice called out.
He turned to see Umezawa, Takemura, and Matsuda waving at him from the arena entrance. They had actually come to watch his fight.
"We didn't want to miss your second match," Umezawa said with genuine enthusiasm. "Good luck in there!"
"They really came," Ippo thought, feeling a strange warmth in his chest. "Maybe people really can change."
DING!
The fight began with Fujiwara immediately trying to establish his physical dominance. He was bigger than Oda, more experienced, and carried himself with the confidence of someone who had survived several professional wars.
"This kid looks soft," Fujiwara thought, bouncing on his toes as he studied Ippo's stance. "One good shot to intimidate him and this'll be over quick."
But Ippo had other plans. Instead of waiting to counter like in his debut, he immediately pressed forward with aggressive intent. His footwork ate up the distance between them as he cut off Fujiwara's angles with predatory precision.
"I won't give him time to settle," Ippo thought, his core already tightening as he prepared to unleash his power. "This time, I'm hunting from the first bell."
Fujiwara threw a probing jab, but Ippo was already inside its range. He slipped the punch with minimal head movement, his hips shifting as he planted his left foot and exploded forward with a devastating right hook.
PAH!
The hook caught Fujiwara flush on the temple, immediately staggering the more experienced fighter. Sweat flew from Fujiwara's face as his head snapped to the side.
"What the hell?!" Fujiwara's mind reeled. "That power... it's inhuman!"
Ippo didn't give him time to recover. He pressed forward relentlessly, his body moving with mechanical precision. Each step was calculated, each punch thrown with murderous intent.
THUD! PAH! THUD!
A vicious combination to the body followed by a sharp uppercut to the head had Fujiwara covering up desperately. Ippo's breathing was controlled but intense, his teeth gritted as he systematically broke down his opponent's defenses.
"His guard is already dropping," Ippo observed, feeling sweat beading on his forehead despite the early stage of the fight. "A few more body shots and I can go upstairs."
Fujiwara tried to create distance with a wild swing, but Ippo read it perfectly. He ducked under the punch, his core muscles contracting as he drove up from his legs with a brutal left hook to the liver.
THUD!
Fujiwara's face contorted in agony as the shot landed. His legs wobbled and his guard instinctively dropped to protect his midsection.
"Can't breathe... can't move..." Fujiwara gasped internally, feeling his strength draining away.
That's when Ippo saw his opening. With his opponent's guard compromised, he shifted his weight, planted his right foot firmly on the canvas, and launched a picture-perfect right cross aimed directly at Fujiwara's chin.
But Fujiwara, desperate and hurt, suddenly drove his head forward in an intentional headbutt.
THUD!
The illegal blow caught Ippo on the forehead, opening a small cut and momentarily stunning him. The referee immediately stepped in.
"Fujiwara! Watch your head!" the official warned sternly.
Ippo touched his forehead, feeling the warm trickle of blood. The realization hit him like lightning—this hadn't been an accident.
"He's trying to cheat," Ippo thought, anger beginning to build in his chest. His jaw clenched tighter as he wiped the blood away. "He can't beat me fairly, so he's resorting to dirty tactics."
The fight resumed, and Fujiwara immediately went back to his pressure game, but now Ippo was watching for the illegal tactics. As they came together again, Fujiwara attempted another headbutt, this time aiming for Ippo's nose.
But Ippo was ready.
"There!" he thought as he saw Fujiwara's head coming forward.
Instead of backing away, Ippo stepped into the attempt, his body coiling like a spring. His hips rotated with explosive force as he planted his left foot and drove upward with everything he had.
The uppercut rose from the depths of his core, every muscle in his body contributing to the devastating blow. Sweat flew from his face as he gritted his teeth and put his entire being behind the punch.
CRACK!
The sound of the uppercut connecting was like thunder. Fujiwara's head snapped back violently, his eyes rolling back instantly as his body went completely limp.
"He's out before he hits the ground," Ippo realized, watching his opponent's unconscious form collapse.
Fujiwara crashed to the canvas like a felled tree, completely motionless except for the slight rise and fall of his chest.
The referee didn't even need to check—it was obvious that Fujiwara wasn't getting up from this one.
"One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten!"
DING! DING! DING!
"Winner by knockout... IPPO MAKUNOUCHI!"
In the crowd, the reaction was immediate and explosive.
"Holy shit!" someone screamed. "Did you see that uppercut?!"
"The guy tried to cheat and got knocked into next week!"
"That's what happens when you fight dirty against a monster!"
Umezawa and his friends were on their feet, screaming with excitement and disbelief.
"Did you see that?!" Takemura yelled, his voice cracking with emotion. "One punch and it was over!"
"That was incredible!" Matsuda added, shaking Umezawa's shoulder. "Ippo's like a demon in there!"
But Umezawa was staring at the ring with a mixture of awe and something approaching fear.
"That shy kid we used to pick on," he thought, watching as Ippo calmly walked to the neutral corner while medical staff attended to his unconscious opponent. "He's become something terrifying. We're lucky he's such a good person, because if he wanted revenge..."
The thought sent a chill down his spine as he realized just how much power his former victim now possessed.
---
The next day at school, the dynamic had completely shifted. Instead of whispers and stares, students openly approached Ippo with congratulations and requests for autographs.
But the most significant change came during lunch period.
"Ippo!" Umezawa called out as he approached the classroom. "Come with me. I want to introduce you to some people."
Curious, Ippo followed him to the back of the school building, where a group of tough-looking students from various classes had gathered.
"Everyone," Umezawa announced proudly, "this is my friend Ippo Makunouchi. The professional boxer I've been telling you about."
"Friend?" Ippo thought, surprised by the word choice.
The group of delinquents looked impressed as Umezawa recounted the details of Ippo's latest knockout victory, embellishing slightly but capturing the essential drama of the moment.
"So when this Fujiwara guy tried to cheat with the headbutt," Umezawa continued dramatically, "Ippo just timed his uppercut perfectly and BAM! Lights out!"
The delinquents nodded approvingly, clearly respecting both Ippo's skill and his ability to handle dirty tactics.
"That's how you deal with cheaters," one of them said with admiration.
"Yeah, respect for not backing down from a dirty fighter," another added.
As the group dispersed, Umezawa lingered behind with Ippo.
"Thanks for not holding grudges," he said quietly. "I know we were... terrible to you before."
"It's okay," Ippo replied sincerely. "People can change. I'm proof of that."
Umezawa smiled. "Yeah, you definitely are. But you know what? I think you were always strong inside. You just needed to find a way to show it."
As they walked back toward the school building, Ippo reflected on how much his world had changed. From victim to victor, from target to respected fighter, from alone to surrounded by people who believed in him.