NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 107: Chapter 107 – Why Not Me?
December 30, 1991 – 3:00 AMPlainfield, New Jersey, USAThe gym was wide and spacious, yet it was eerily silent, save for the rhythmic pounding of fists crashing into leather. The dim, flickering fluorescent lights cast a harsh white glow, revealing a solitary figure standing before a swinging heavy bag.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
The heavy bag rattled violently with each devastating blow, its chains groaning under the sheer force. Sweat dripped from the man's dark-skinned, chiseled frame, his breathing heavy, controlled, yet fueled by an undeniable rage.
His hands, wrapped tightly beneath his now-worn gloves, moved furiously, hammering the bag as if it were his mortal enemy.
But even as he kept hitting, one question burned in his mind—
"Why?"
BAM!
His fist dug deep into the leather once again.
"Why?"
BAM! BAM!
His knuckles slammed into the bag harder, faster, heavier.
"Why not me?!"
The image of Sharmba Mitchell flashed in his mind.
His fists clenched tighter, his veins bulging against his skin as his anger grew with every passing second.
"Why do they love Sharmba Mitchell so much? Why not me?"
His jaw tightened, his teeth grinding in frustration.
"I've done everything. I've bled and sweat just to give them a show—to give them a spectacular fight!"
The more he thought about it, the more his rage consumed him.
He gritted his teeth and launched a right hook, sending the heavy bag swinging wildly.
BAM!
"What does he have that I don't?!"
His punches came even harder now, the gym filling with the sharp crack of leather meeting flesh and bone.
"I do better in every category than him!"
BAM!
"Sharmba Mitchell has 14 knockouts. I have 21."
BAM!
"He's 21 years old. I'm only 19!"
BAM!
"I have more potential than him!"
His breaths were ragged, his body drenched in sweat, but the anger in his heart refused to let him stop.
He threw a thunderous straight punch—
BOOM!
A loud, metallic snap echoed through the empty gym.
The chains snapped, and the heavy bag ripped free, launching across the room like a missile before slamming against the far wall.
THUD!
The impact was so powerful that the entire gym shook, the sound reverberating like a gunshot.
For a moment, silence returned.
The man stood there, staring at the fallen heavy bag.
His fists trembled, his knuckles now bleeding from the force of his punches. Blood trickled down his hands, drop by drop, staining the wooden floor beneath him.
His breathing was heavy.
His heart pounded.
And then, with a voice filled with anger, frustration, and desperation—
"WHY NOT ME?!"
His shout echoed through the empty gym, his voice filled with raw emotion.
He clenched his bleeding fists, watching as thick, crimson drops fell onto the floor.
Drip.
Drip.
His blood painted the ground beneath him, but he didn't care.
"I've proven time and time again that I'm better than that little dwarf piece of shit!"
His breath shuddered as he finally sat down, his back leaning against the ropes. His fists were covered in blood, the sharp sting of his torn skin barely registering in his mind.
Slowly, he removed his gloves, pressing a hand against his face, only to feel the warm sensation of his own blood smearing across his skin.
He exhaled, his eyes burning with a newfound determination.
"I'll prove to the world that I'm the greatest prodigy in boxing."
His gaze flickered toward the broken punching bag lying against the wall.
His fists tightened again.
"Not that dwarf little shit, Mitchell.
He couldn't even beat a guy in his debut."
Then, another name surfaced in his mind.
A name that made his rage burn even hotter.
"Alex Makunouchi..."
He whispered the name as if it were a curse, his eyes narrowing.
He clenched his bleeding fist even tighter.
"I'll beat the guy that beat him."
A slow, wicked grin curled on his lips.
"No... I'll do better than that."
His breathing slowed, his mind now razor-focused.
He stared intensely at the fallen heavy bag, as if imagining someone else standing in its place.
Someone he wanted to crush.
Someone he hated.
Alex Makunouchi.
His lips twisted into a snarl, his fingernails digging into his own palm as he whispered with deadly conviction—
"I'll sleep this guy called Alex Makunouchi."
His gaze remained fixed on the broken heavy bag, his heart pounding like a war drum, his mind already imagining himself standing over a fallen opponent.
The world would soon know his name.
And this time—
It wouldn't be as 'second best.'
Hours Passed
January 1, 1992 – 12:00 AMMakunouchi Household, Tokyo, JapanThe night sky over Tokyo was filled with the sounds of celebration—laughter, cheers, and the distant echoes of fireworks exploding in vibrant bursts of color.
Inside the Makunouchi household, the warmth of family and the excitement of a new year filled the air.
"Happy New Year!" Alex raised his hand with a confident grin.
"Happy New Year!" Ippo echoed, his face lighting up as he raised his hand in return.
Mari, standing beside them, turned toward Hiroko and wrapped her arms around her in a warm embrace.
"Happy New Year, Aunt Hiroko!" she said cheerfully.
Hiroko smiled warmly, returning the hug with motherly affection.
"Happy New Year, Mari," Hiroko said, patting her back gently.
The living room was cozy, decorated with modest but heartfelt decorations. The aroma of fresh food from the kitchen lingered in the air, adding to the festive atmosphere. But despite the warmth indoors, Alex had something else planned to make this New Year unforgettable.
He stepped away from the gathering and headed toward the garage.
Ippo, noticing Alex's movement, walked toward the kitchen. His eyes darted around until he found what he was looking for—a box of matches.
Meanwhile, outside, Alex popped open the trunkof a sleek Nissan SUV, his eyes scanning the inside before grabbing a large, heavy box. With careful but eager hands, he pulled it out and carried it toward the backyard.
Ippo, curious, peeked through the kitchen window and saw Alex walking outside. His brow furrowed.
"What is he up to?"
With the box of matches in his grasp, Ippo hurried after him.
The chilly air of midnight winter brushed against their skin as they stepped onto the backyard's open space.
Hearing the footsteps, Hiroko and Mari glanced outside.
"What are those two up to?" Mari asked, tilting her head.
Hiroko exhaled softly, shaking her head with an amused smile.
"Let's go see."
The two women stepped outside, following them into the yard.
Alex carefully placed the box onto the groundand peeled open the top, revealing a massive, sleek, and pointed firework inside.
Ippo's eyes widened.
Mari's jaw dropped.
"Wow… that's something else."
Even Hiroko, usually composed, raised her eyebrows in mild surprise.
The firework was bigger than any of them expected—a long, cylindrical rocket with a metallic silver body and purple-tinted design, signifying the colors it would unleash in the sky.
Hiroko and Mari instinctively took a few steps back, watching with cautious excitement.
Ippo, however, was already stepping closer.
Holding the matchbox tightly, he struck a match, the small flame flickering against the cold night air.
Alex, now finished setting up the launching stand, gave a firm nod.
"Alright. Let's do this."
Ippo leaned in, carefully bringing the match to the long fuse.
The moment the flame touched it—
FSSHHHH!
The fuse ignited, sparks crackling and hissing as it rapidly burned toward the base of the rocket.
Alex and Ippo immediately stepped back, watching with bated breath.
Then—
WHOOSH!
The firework launched into the air, cutting through the darkness like a shooting star.
All four of them gazed upward, their eyes following its rapid ascent.
And then—
BOOM!
A brilliant explosion of purple light burst across the night sky, illuminating the entire yard.
The deep violet hue spread out like a blooming flower, twinkling with golden specks that slowly descended before fading into the abyss of the midnight sky.
For a brief moment, everything felt still—as if the world itself was admiring the beauty of the fireworks.
Then, as if on cue—
"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
All four of them shouted in unison, their hands raised toward the sky.