Chapter 4: Lesson

The gym still buzzed with the energy of the recent sparring sessions. Conversations echoed against the walls, punctuated by the occasional clang of weights or the rhythmic pounding of fists on the heavy bags. Alex leaned against a bench, a towel draped around his neck, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath after the intense exchange with Miyata.

Coach Kamogawa approached him, his sharp eyes still analyzing Alex's every move.

"Kid," Kamogawa said, arms crossed. "Let me introduce you to the gym members."

Alex straightened up as Kamogawa gestured toward a tall, broad-shouldered man with a confident smirk.

"You've already seen him earlier, but this is Takamura," Kamogawa said.

Takamura grinned. "Hope you're not too sore from that spar, rookie. You actually made Miyata look human for a second."

Alex just smirked, not rising to the bait.

Next, Kamogawa pointed at a guy with a funny face and curly hair.

"This is Aoki."

"Yo!" Aoki greeted, raising a hand lazily.

Then, the coach turned to a quieter guy with a cool demeanor, his arms crossed.

"And this is Kimura."

Kimura gave a silent wave, barely acknowledging Alex.

Finally, Kamogawa motioned toward the fighter Alex had just sparred with.

"And the one you fought earlier is Miyata, as you already know. The one coaching him is his father."

Alex nodded, pretending to take in the introductions. but in alex mind says different, Of course, I already know them. I watched them in my previous life. Even though I've forgotten most of the anime, I still remember the key characters.

Kamogawa's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"Now that you're here, let's work on your fighting style."

Later that evening, the Makunouchi householdwas quiet. After a modest dinner with Ippo and his mother, Alex retreated to his room, eager for some solitude.

He flopped onto his futon, letting out a deep sigh. The day's events replayed in his mind like a highlight reel—the sparring match with Miyata, the questions from Kamogawa, the crowd's reaction to his performance. It all felt surreal, like he was living in a dream that he never wanted to end.

System.

A blue panel suddenly appeared in front of him.

Name: Alex Makunouchi

Gender: Male

Age: 17

Height: 5'8"

Weight: 60 kg

Template: Gaolang Wongsawat

Progress: 1%

Offense Style: Hitman Style (Beginner)

Defense Style: Philly Shell (Beginner)

Crazy Mode? Flash? Prediction?

Alex stared at the screen, his eyes scanning every line. The words "Hitman Style" and "Philly Shell"stood out like beacons, reminding him of the instincts that had awakened during the fight.

"Only 1% progress, huh?" he muttered, his fingers brushing his chin thoughtfully. "If that's what 1% feels like, I can't imagine what 100% will bring."

He paused, his eyes darkening slightly.

If that happens, will I end up with a god complex? Like those characters in the novels I read in my past life?

He shook his head, sighing. "I hope not."

His gaze lingered on the words "Beginner." He looked down at his fist, clenching and unclenching it.

I finally found a new goal in life. This… this is my new life now.

Alex took a deep breath, determination burning in his chest.

"I can't stop here," he muttered. "Miyata's speed, his precision… I need to catch up. No—surpass him. This system gave me Gaolang's foundation, but the rest is on me."

The panel faded after a few seconds, leaving Alex in the dim glow of his room. He lay back down, staring at the ceiling. The aches in his muscleswere a reminder of how much work lay ahead—but they also fueled his determination.

"I'll make everyone remember my name."

A small smile tugged at his lips.

"Tomorrow, the real training begins."

The next day, Alex found himself at the gym again, once again the center of attention.

Takamura, never one to miss a chance to tease, leaned against the ropes with a mischievous grin.

"So, Alex," Takamura smirked. "Ready to make a fool of yourself again today?"

Alex raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"I thought that was your job, Takamura."

The gym erupted in laughter, and even Kamogawa cracked a rare smile as he walked in.

"Alright, enough chit-chat," the coach barked. "We've got work to do. Alex, I hope you're ready to sweat."

Alex rolled his shoulders, confidence pouring out of him.

"I was born ready, Coach."

The day's training was brutal.

Shadowboxing. Heavy bag drills. Endless footwork exercises. By the end of the session, Alex's legs felt like jelly, his arms heavy, his body screaming in exhaustion. But through it all, he endured.

His mind was locked on one goal—improvement.

As the session wrapped up, Kamogawa approached him, a thoughtful look on his face.

"You've been improving a lot, kid," Kamogawa said, his sharp eyes looking at Alex carefully. "You have a one-in-a-million talent."

Alex grinned slightly but didn't say anything.

Then, Kamogawa pointed at Alex's forehead, his voice turning serious.

"But keep this in mind—don't get too arrogant."

Alex blinked, caught off guard.

"Confidence is one thing," Kamogawa continued, "but arrogance is another matter."

Alex met the old man's gaze and gave a small, respectful nod.

"Don't worry, Coach," he said sincerely. "I'll keep that in mind."

Kamogawa nodded in approval, then turned away.