Isekai in Hajime no Ippo with Gaolang’s Template

Alex stood confidently under the bright lights of the Nike photoshoot set, his sharp features and powerful physique capturing the camera's attention. Dressed in a sleek athletic outfit with Nike branding, he struck a series of poses, his trademark smirk and intensity radiating through the lens.

"Perfect, Alex! That's the look we're going for," the photographer called out.

With the shoot wrapped up, Alex grabbed his gear and headed to his car, where Assistant Coach Yagi waited patiently. Once Alex slid into the driver's seat, Yagi joined him in the passenger seat, carrying a notebook and a rolled-up newspaper.

As Alex drove smoothly through the city streets, Yagi looked at him, excitement in his tone. "I've got some good news for you, Alex."

"What's up, A/Coach?" Alex asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

authors Note: A/Coach is assistant Coach 

Yagi unfolded his notebook and glanced at Alex. "Nike has made you an offer—they want to create a shoe brand specifically for you."

Alex's grip on the wheel tightened slightly, his eyes widening. "Wait… just like the basketball guy, Jordan?"

Yagi grinned and nodded. "Exactly. They're offering you 5% royalties on every shoe sold—lifetime royalties. Plus, they'll let you design your own shoes and logo. It's a huge opportunity."

Alex whistled, the magnitude of the offer sinking in. "Man, that's… massive. I'm going to need some time to think this through. It's a lot to take in."

"Take your time," Yagi said with a chuckle, tapping his notebook. "This kind of deal doesn't come every day. They're betting big on you."

As they drove on, Yagi unrolled the newspaper in his hands, excitement still brimming. "Oh, and about your fight—it's official now."

"Really? What does it say?" Alex asked, his focus remaining on the road.

"Here, I'll read it for you," Yagi replied. He cleared his throat before reading aloud:

"Japan Lightweight Championship Fight: Champion Alex Makunouchi to defend his title against the ranked #2 contender, Ryota Sakamoto (14-3-2, 9 KOs)."

Alex smirked, his competitive fire sparking. "Sakamoto, huh? He's good, but he's not ready for me."

Yagi chuckled before continuing. "And for the co-main event, it says: 'The finals of the Japan Rookie King Tournament: Ippo Makunouchi vs. Takeshi Sendō.'"

Hearing that, Alex couldn't help but grin. "So, it's official. Ippo's stepping up against Sendo. That's going to be one hell of a fight."

"Definitely. Both matches are going to bring in a lot of attention," Yagi added, folding the newspaper. "The gym's going to be buzzing in the weeks ahead."

Alex nodded, his focus sharp. "Good. Time to show everyone why I'm not just a champion—I'm the future of this sport."

The two shared a moment of quiet confidence as Alex drove on, the city lights reflecting in the car's windows, a symbol of the bright future awaiting them.

Time passed

February 16th, 1991

The day before the highly anticipated fight, Alex stood in front of Ippo's room, his appearance sharp and confident. Dressed in a crisp white Nike polo shirt, black pants, and polished black shoes, he looked every bit the professional champion. On his wrist was a brand-new 1991 Seiko leather-strap watch, the perfect complement to his outfit. With a firm knock, Alex called out, "Ippo, let's go!"

The door opened, and Ippo stepped out. His look was completely different from his usual understated style. A sleek black leather jacket rested over a white t-shirt, paired with black leather pants and matching shoes.

Alex gave a playful grin, raising an eyebrow. "Ippo… you look like a bad boy."

Ippo blinked in surprise, a faint blush creeping over his cheeks. "Really? You think so?"

"Absolutely," Alex replied with a chuckle, gesturing toward the hallway. "Let's head out. The coach will pick up the rest of the team with his Honda SUV. For now, it's just the two of us."

"Which car are we taking?" Ippo asked as they walked toward the garage.

Alex smirked. "Let's take yours."

In the garage, Ippo's Nissan GTR Skyline gleamed under the lights, its silver finish practically glowing. Ippo hopped into the driver's seat, and the engine roared to life, the sound reverberating in the enclosed space.

Alex whistled in appreciation. "Man, Ippo, this car's almost as cool as your outfit today."

Ippo chuckled nervously as he shifted into gear. The two set off toward the venue, the sleek car drawing attention from passersby along the way.

The venue was already buzzing with activity when they arrived. Outside, Coach Kamogawa's Honda SUV was parked prominently, and inside, the Kamogawa Gym team was gathered near the entrance: Coach Kamogawa, Assistant Coach Yagi, Takamura, Aoki, and Kimura.

Coach Kamogawa's sharp eyes immediately locked onto Ippo, and he gave a rare grin. "You look like a bad boy, Ippo."

Ippo scratched his head in embarrassment. "That's what Alex said, too."

Aoki leaned in, pretending to inspect Ippo's leather jacket. "He's right. You've got that rebel vibe going. All you need now is a motorcycle and some sunglasses."

Kimura laughed, patting Ippo's shoulder. "The ladies are gonna love this look if you ever walk into the ring like this."

Ippo stammered, his face bright red, while Alex smirked and patted his shoulder. "Ignore them. Just focus on tomorrow's fight."

Inside the press conference room, a long table was set up, splitting the Kamogawa Gym team and their opponents. Alex and Ippo sat on the right, while Ryota Sakamoto, the number two lightweight contender, and Takeshi Sendo, the West Japan Rookie King, took their places on the left.

The tension in the air was palpable as the fighters exchanged subtle glances. Cameras flashed, capturing the moment. Reporters murmured in anticipation, and the hum of excitement filled the room.

The press conference was about to begin, setting the stage for the battles of February 17th, 1991. This wasn't just another fight—it was a night that would solidify legacies.

The press conference began with a surge of excitement in the air. Reporters filled the room, their cameras flashing and microphones aimed at the fighters. The atmosphere was electric as everyone prepared for a night that promised to be unforgettable.

Minoru Fujii, a well-known boxing journalist, was the first to ask a question. He directed his attention to Alex, sitting relaxed in his seat, exuding confidence.

"Alex, this is your first title defense. Are you excited right now, or what's going through your mind?"

Alex leaned forward slightly, his tone calm and steady. "It's just a regular fight for me."

The room buzzed with murmurs at Alex's nonchalant response, but Fujii quickly shifted focus to Ryota Sakamoto, the number two contender.

"Ryota, you're just one step away from being the champ. What do you have to say about this opportunity?"

Ryota adjusted his posture, his expression firm and confident. "I will be the champ. I know Alex is the current titleholder, but I believe I'm better than him. The media's been hyping him up like he's Muhammad Ali or some kind of god, but tomorrow, I'll prove to all of Japan that I'm the real deal."

The media leaned in, anticipating Alex's reaction. But before anyone could ask him another question, Alex raised a hand, signaling his intent to speak.

"Ryota," Alex began, his tone sharp and deliberate, "you've got three losses. And you're here talking about how you're going to beat me?"

Alex leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face as he propped his feet up on the table. "I'm the king of this division. You're looking at the king."

The room erupted into a frenzy of camera flashes and murmurs as Alex's bold proclamation dominated the atmosphere.

Ryota scowled, his fists clenched as he retorted, "We'll find out tomorrow. I'm going to dethrone you."

Alex's smirk didn't waver. "You can try," he said coolly, his voice dripping with confidence.

The attention then turned to the co-main event, with Minoru Fujii directing the conversation to Takeshi Sendo.

"Sendo, you did a phenomenal job in the West Rookie King Tournament. What do you expect heading into this fight?"

Sendo, leaning slightly into the mic, grinned. "I got bored in the West Rookie King Tournament. There wasn't anyone who could really push me. But now—" he turned his gaze to Ippo, his excitement evident, "—I've finally met my opponent. I'm excited to see my limit."

Another reporter quickly turned to Ippo. "Ippo, do you have anything to say about Sendo's comments?"

Ippo, ever humble, responded with a quiet determination. "I'm going to do my best."

The event moved to the traditional face-offs. Ippo and Sendo stepped forward first, standing toe-to-toe for the cameras. Despite the intensity of their words earlier, their face-off was friendly. They exchanged nods of respect, both fighters clearly eager for what was to come.

Next, Alex and Ryota approached each other. The atmosphere grew tense as the champion and challenger locked eyes. Alex's grin widened into something unsettling—a mix of mockery and confidence.

"It'll be over in one," Alex muttered, his tone chilling and deliberate.

Ryota glared at him, his voice steady but laced with frustration. "Enjoy this moment while it lasts because tomorrow, I'm going to be the champion."

The tension was palpable, and the cameras captured every second as the two fighters remained locked in their stare-down. Alex's grin didn't waver, his confidence unwavering.

The press conference concluded with the media buzzing, their questions and commentary filling the room as the fighters left the stage. The stage was set for February 17th, 1991—a night that promised to define careers and create champions.

Note: im quite busy so there is no chapter tommorow.