Isekai in Hajime no Ippo with Gaolang’s Template

February 17, 1992 – 7:00 PM

The night sky hung over Korakuen Hall, illuminated by the bright streetlights and the flashing signs of nearby buildings. A buzz of anticipation filled the air as a crowd gathered outside the entrance. Excited murmurs and scattered conversations echoed throughout the area as fans, journalists, and reporters loitered near the entrance, waiting for their moment to capture history in the making.

Suddenly, the quiet hum of conversation was interrupted by the roar of an engine.

VROOOOOM!

Everyone turned toward the sound. A shiny red Ferrari F40 cruised down the street, its engine roaring loudly. The sleek car moved effortlessly, its surface shining in the streetlights.

Close behind, a Silver Nissan Skyline GT-R followed, glimmering in the light. A black Ford SUV brought up the rear, keeping perfect pace with the others.

The three vehicles pulled up in unison, parking along the curb near the entrance of Korakuen Hall. The spectacle drew gasps from the crowd, and all attention immediately shifted toward them.

From the Ferrari, the driver's side door lifted open, and the suspense reached its peak.

Then, stepping out with effortless composure, Alex Makunouchi revealed himself.

His attire was simple yet commanding—a white loose sweater, crisp white pants, and his newly released Makunouchi Dynasty boxing shoes—a high-cut, black-and-white design exuding sleekness and performance. The combination fit his aesthetics perfectly, balancing elegance and power.

A wave of camera flashes erupted the moment he exited the car. Reporters hurriedly adjusted their lenses, their voices blending into a chaotic storm of overlapping questions and calls.

A moment later, the Skyline GT-R's door swung open, and Ippo Makunouchi stepped out, dressed in a black tracksuit.

More camera flashes erupted as the photographers captured the Japan's Featherweight Rookie King's arrival.

Finally, the Ford SUV's doors opened, revealing the rest of the Kamogawa Gym crew—Aoki, Kimura, Takamura, and the three coaches—Coach Kamogawa, Coach Shinoda, and Assistant Coach Yagi.

The media frenzy intensified, but the team ignored the noise and swiftly made their way inside toward the backstage area.

As they walked through the hallways leading to the locker room, Aoki let out a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Man… I thought being famous was cool until I actually experienced it firsthand."

Kimura, arms crossed, nodded in agreement. "Yeah… it's a hassle, right? Just arriving at the venue, and boom! You're surrounded by a swarm of people shoving cameras in your face, asking a bunch of questions you don't even wanna answer."

Takamura smirked, then side-eyed Alex. "Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if someone didn't roll up in a Ferrari F40, begging for attention."

Alex chuckled, tilting his head. "Hey, can you blame me? I own a Ferrari. Might as well drive it." His tone was casual, but the teasing was clear.

Takamura scoffed, his expression annoyed. "Tch. You're so damn extra."

Kamogawa, who had been listening to their constant bickering, finally had enough.

"That's enough! You two argue like kids!" he snapped.

Alex grinned, while Takamura simply crossed his arms, both choosing not to argue further—at least for now.

Kamogawa then turned toward Ippo. "Ippo, take off your tracksuit and put on your boxing trunks."

"Yes, Coach!" Ippo replied, immediately beginning to change.

As Ippo prepared himself, a knock suddenly echoed through the locker room door.

Knock. Knock.

Kimura glanced at the others before walking over. "I'll get it."

When he opened the door, Minoru Fujii, a well-known boxing journalist, stood outside, a camera operator following close behind.

"Ah, it's you, Fujii-san," Kimura said, recognizing him immediately.

"Mind if I come in?" Fujii asked politely.

Kimura stepped aside. "Sure, go ahead."

Fujii and the cameraman stepped inside, their eyes scanning the room.

To the left, Alex and Takamura were sitting comfortably.

To the right, Aoki stood near Coach Shinoda, who was busy preparing the hand wraps, carefully taking them out from the bag.

In the center, Coach Kamogawa was sitting on a bench, his signature cap lowered, partially covering his eyes as he waited for Ippo to finish changing.

Fujii smiled and approached Alex first. "Long time no see, Alex."

Alex, who had been leaning back against the bench, looked up at him.

Takamura also raised an eyebrow, acknowledging Fujii's presence.

Alex then stood up, extended his hand, and offered a firm handshake. "Nice to see you, Fujii-san."

Fujii returned the handshake, then glanced at Takamura.

Takamura, still leaning back, gave a simple nod but said nothing.

Fujii chuckled before turning back to Alex. "It's been a while since our last interview."

The cameraman, now fully set up, added with a grin, "Yeah, I really miss those press conferences you used to have here!"

Then, with a curious look, he asked, "When will you fight in Japan again?"

Alex exhaled lightly and shrugged. "I don't know. I have no say in that." His expression was neutral. "I'm not a champion, so a contender like me can't just demand where I fight. Even if I'd love to perform here, so our people could see me fight again, it's not my call."

Fujii nodded knowingly, but there was a slight glint of mischief in his eyes.

Then, suddenly—while the camera was still focused on Alex—he slyly asked, "Since we're waiting for Ippo anyway… how about a quick interview to pass the time?"

The question hung in the air for a moment.

Alex paused, then gave Fujii a blank stare.

Then, without hesitation—

"No."

Fujii blinked, caught off guard. "Eh?"

Alex crossed his arms. "This isn't my fight. I don't want to take the limelight away from Ippo."

Fujii stared at him for a second, then laughed it off. "Fair enough! Just thought I'd try."

Ippo Makunouchi had finished changing into his boxing gear—his red trunks with "MAKUNOUCHI" stitched boldly across the waistband. His lean yet powerful physique was fully revealed, muscles well-defined from years of grueling training.

The cameraman focused on Ippo, capturing the moment as he sat calmly on the chair, unfazed by the attention.

Holding a fresh roll of hand wraps, Coach Shinoda approached Ippo and knelt in front of him. Carefully, he began wrapping Ippo's hands, securing his fists for the battle ahead.

The camera zoomed in, focusing on the meticulous process. Shinoda's experienced hands moved skillfully, ensuring the wraps were tight yet comfortable—offering protection without restricting movement.

After several minutes, the hand wraps were finished.

Next came the blue boxing gloves.

Shinoda slid them onto Ippo's hands, making sure the fit was perfect before taping them securely around the wrists.

As the final strip of tape was applied, Coach Kamogawa and Assistant Coach Yagi stood up.

Kamogawa's deep voice cut through the moment.

"It's time."

Ippo nodded. He clenched his fists inside the gloves, feeling the familiar tightness.

This was it.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up. Then, with his coaches by his side, they made their way toward the tunnel leading to the ring.

As Ippo stepped into the tunnel, the lights dimmed, and the murmur of the crowd outside grew louder.

Back in the locker room, Alex, Aoki, Kimura, and Takamura gathered around the TV mounted on the wall, watching Ippo's entrance being broadcasted live.

The screen showed Ippo emerging from the tunnel, stepping into the bright spotlight as the audience erupted in cheers. His name was called over the speakers, and his theme music blared throughout the arena.

With a steady gaze and controlled breath, Ippo strode toward the ring, his fists clenched, his mind clear.

A few seconds later, the lights dimmed again.

It was time for his opponent's entrance.

A different song began playing, and a new spotlight focused on the tunnel.

Stepping into view, Okita Keigo walked out with a composed expression, his posture upright and focused. The crowd responded with mixed cheers and applause, as he was well-respected for his skills.

Okita climbed into the ring, standing across from Ippo as the announcer finished introducing them.

Then, finally—

Both fighters walked to the center of the ring.

They faced each other, eyes locked in a silent challenge.

A tense moment passed.

Then—they touched gloves.

The crowd exploded with anticipation.

 Ippo's POV

The moment I looked around, I felt the sheer energy of the arena. Hundreds of people were cheering for me, but at the same time, I could hear the loud support for Okita as well. It was a lively crowd, but… I've seen louder.

Alex's fight in Las Vegas… that was something else.

The roar of the Vegas crowd that night was so intense that it sent chills down my spine. In comparison, this felt… tame.

I shook those thoughts away and focused.

Okita and I touched gloves, and then—

DING! DING!

The bell rang.

I immediately stepped forward, keeping my Peekaboo stance tight. My gloves were high, my chin tucked in, and I began weaving side to side, making myself a difficult target.

Across from me, Okita raised his high guard, standing firm in his usual stance.

I moved closer, bouncing lightly on my feet, keeping my rhythm consistent and unpredictable.

Then—he threw a jab.

I saw it coming.

And… it looked slow.

So slow.

For a moment, I was caught off guard—not by the jab itself, but by how much time I had to react.

After training against Alex's flicker jab, which came so fast that I could barely blink before getting hit, Okita's punch felt sluggish—almost predictable.

I didn't even have to think. My body reacted on instinct—

I slipped inside the jab.

I moved my head just enough to avoid it, stepping forward at the same time. Okita realized it too late.

He tried to back away, but I was already in range—

BANG!

I dug a hard right hook to his body, targeting his liver.

Okita grunted, his muscles tightening as he lowered his elbow to block the shot.

That was exactly what I wanted.

The moment he dropped his guard—

WHAM!

I snapped a left uppercut straight into his chin.

I felt the impact through my glove—his jaw snapping upward as his body wobbled.

The crowd gasped.

Okita stumbled back, but I didn't let him recover.

I stepped in, closing the distance, and—

THWACK!

I smashed a right hook into his liver again.

I felt his body stiffen, his breath catching in his throat.

His face twisted in pain.

His back hit the ropes—nowhere left to go.

I didn't hesitate.

Left! Right! Left! Right!

I unleashed a storm of punches, weaving in between shots, landing clean hits to his head and body.

I felt his resistance fade with every punch.

His head snapped left—right—his legs trembled—his arms dropped lower—

Then I saw it.

His eyes rolled back.

And then—the referee rushed in!

"STOP! THAT'S IT!"

I barely heard him through the noise.

The referee forcibly separated me from Okita, waving his arms to signal the end of the fight.

I blinked.

It was over?

I looked down at my fists.

I barely even broke a sweat.

I barely felt challenged.

"Why was that… so easy?"

I barely had time to process the thought before I felt a firm hand on my shoulder.

"You did it, kid."

I turned and saw Coach Kamogawa standing next to me, his usual stern expression softened just slightly.

Coach Shinoda and Assistant Coach Yagi had also entered the ring, standing beside us.

I blinked.

"I did?" I muttered.

It still didn't feel real. The fight had ended so fast that my body was still ready to move, expecting more.

Before I could dwell on it any longer, I heard shuffling from the side.

I turned my head and saw Okita Keigo slowly pushing himself up. His legs wobbled, his face still tense from pain, but he managed to steady himself.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at me with a conflicted look.

Then, he took a deep breath, walked over, and extended his hand.

I hesitated for a second, but then bowed politely before taking his hand and shaking it.

I felt his grip tighten slightly, and I could tell he was frustrated.

Okita lowered his head. Shame filled his expression.

"The fight didn't even last a minute…"

I didn't know what to say to him. There wasn't anything I could say.

We both turned to the center of the ring as the announcer raised the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen! The fight has officially ended at 27 seconds of Round 1 by TKO! Your winner—IPPO MAKUNOUCHI!"

The referee lifted my hand into the air, and the crowd erupted into cheers.

I felt a wave of emotions, but mostly… disbelief. 27 seconds?

"It ended faster than I expected…"

Outside the ring, the commentators had already started their analysis.

A middle-aged man with white hair, in his 50s, leaned forward with excitement. His name was Akira.

"That was fast! It seems like we have another rising star in Japan!"

His co-commentator, Asashi, a younger man in his 20s, nodded eagerly.

"His power is inhuman!"

Akira adjusted his headset. "There's something in the Makunouchi family genes… First, we had Alex Makunouchi, and now Ippo. Alex has already proven his skill in America a few months ago. His speed and precision are just on another level!"

Asashi raised an eyebrow. "Wait, I thought Alex was a power puncher? I've never seen anyone last more than three rounds against him."

Akira shook his head. "No, he's a speed type. His style is all about precision and timing."

"Are you sure? His knockouts are brutal—"

"You don't get it! Speed and precision are what make his power so devastating!"

The two began arguing on live TV, much to the amusement of the viewers.

Meanwhile, I had already left the ring with my team.

By the time we reached the backstage area, the fight had already started feeling like a blur.

The moment we walked in, I was met with a grin from Aoki.

"Wow, Ippo. You're improving so fast! I can't even call that a fight!"

Kimura smirked. "Yeah, it didn't even last 30 seconds. What was that? A warm-up?"

Takamura let out a chuckle and patted my shoulder roughly.

"Not bad, pipsqueak. But you better not get cocky yet."

I nodded, still trying to process everything. Before I could say anything, Alex spoke up.

"Should we watch Eiji Date's title match first? Let's see if he can defend his Japanese Featherweight Title."

I turned to him.

"Sure."

We all took seats in front of the large TV in the lounge, waiting for Date's match to begin.

Fifteen minutes later, the fight was already well underway.

Eiji Date, the reigning Japanese Featherweight Champion, stood in the center of the ring, his opponent barely holding on.

I watched closely.

He looked completely in control. His movements were sharp, his defense solid, and his experience evident in every exchange.

Then—

BAM!

A single punch landed cleanly, sending his opponent crashing to the mat.

Silence.

Then—the referee waved his arms!

"IT'S OVER! Eiji Date wins by knockout in Round 4!"

The camera zoomed in on his opponent. He was completely unconscious.

Alex leaned forward. "Wow… that corkscrew punch sure stings, huh?"

Takamura let out a whistle. "Look at his opponent. His heart stopped for a second."

I swallowed hard.

That corkscrew punch was terrifying.

Coach Kamogawa stood up, stretching his arms.

"Let's go. There's nothing else to see here."