As Alex and the man continued sparring, it became clear that Alex was more skillful and agile, while the man relied on power and sheer strength. After the initial guillotine choke, the man never allowed himself to be caught again, growing more wary of holds and opting to trade blows instead.
Whenever Alex attempted a grapple, the man simply overpowered him, ensuring he was never restrained. Even an armbar was ruthlessly undone with sheer brute force.
Alex's speed, agility, and small stature allowed him to land more hits while evading most attacks, but his strikes lacked the impact needed to faze his opponent. The man, on the other hand, capitalized on every opening, and even a simple jab from him left Alex reeling, forcing him to stabilize before continuing.
Stamina wasn't a problem for the man either. Having eaten Pokémon meat and trained for far longer than Alex, he was in his prime—likely in his twenties—and had the endurance to match his strength. Their fight stretched on for the entire hour, neither fully dominating the other.
Once time was up, Alex excused himself, purchased a potion, and began spraying his face and body to treat his injuries before they worsened. Potions worked on humans just as well as they did on Pokémon, but they couldn't reset broken bones or heal internal damage. Unlike Pokémon, who could be restored with a simple spray or a Heal Pulse, humans still needed doctors for serious injuries.
After healing himself, Alex didn't bother changing out of his gi—there was no point. In a few hours, after another four-hour battle session with his Pokémon, he'd be diving into another sparring match while they ate and rested.
This would be their new daily routine for the next two months—twelve hours of combat training for his Pokémon, while he squeezed in two hours of sparring practice. Alongside that, he had both a morning and evening jog. His Pokémon were in for a rough time.
After their next four-hour session, his Pokémon were exhausted. They ate a light meal before retreating into their Pokéballs for an hour of rest.
Meanwhile, Alex made his way back down to the first floor, scanning the area with renewed interest. He had already fought a man earlier that morning, but now he wanted to try sparring against Pokémon.
The Pokémon stationed here for sparring weren't owned by trainers but were part of the Gym itself. No trainer would waste their own Pokémon's time fighting a human in a meaningless match—every moment could be better spent refining their Moves.
They were also trained to hold back relative to their opponent's strength. Pokemon even without moves were too powerful for humans.
Alex zeroed in on a Hitmonchan standing alone in a corner battleground, an Iron Ball weighing about 20 lbs (9.07 kg) strapped to its back with heavy iron chains. The Fighting-type Pokémon was practicing its moves, throwing precise punches in the air, seemingly uninterested in the other sparring matches around it.
Curious, Alex decided to see what the fuss was about.
He approached, dropped his bag, and stepped onto the battleground. Hitmonchan immediately took notice, halting its shadow boxing to regard him with a piercing gaze.
"Mind a spar?" Alex asked.
Hitmonchan studied him for a moment before nodding. Alex barely had time to get into position before a lightning-fast jab shot toward his face. He brought his hands up in a cross guard just in time, but no sooner had he blocked than a gut punch slammed into his core. A right hook followed.
Alex quickly weaved backward, dropping his hands slightly as he shifted right to create distance. But Hitmonchan didn't let up, a sharp left straight hitting his solar plexus to keep him pinned, followed by a devastating right haymaker.
Planting his feet, Alex curled his left shoulder toward his right knee dodging the blow, then shoulder-checked Hitmonchan, disrupting its rhythm. Without missing a beat, he swung his upper body left, driving a right punch to the stomach, then followed up with a solid right punch to the chest, finally forcing Hitmonchan to retreat.
Alex took the chance to reset, circling cautiously while catching his breath.
Hitmonchan's eyes widened in surprise. It was used to overwhelming opponents with sheer speed and precision, but Alex had countered effectively. A look of respect crossed its face before it adjusted its stance and launched another attack.
This time, Alex was ready. As Hitmonchan surged forward, he shifted his weight onto his left foot, feinting a right straight punch. The Pokémon reacted, moving to guard, but it was a trap. Alex whipped a low right kick into its knee, stopping its momentum cold.
Hitmonchan staggered back from the pain. Seeing his opening, Alex stepped forward with his raised right foot, twisted his body left, and launched a back kick with his left foot. It crashed into Hitmonchan's raised guard with enough force to send it skidding back across the battleground.
Alex landed lightly, hopping back from the recoil, a smirk forming on his lips.
This was going to be a good fight. Alex turned up the pressure.
He charged in, posture low, guard tight, and opened with a left hook, then another, then a right straight—all blocked. Anticipating a counter, he weaved right, dodging a quick left punch, then drove a devastating left uppercut under Hitmonchan's chin. The impact rocked the Pokémon hard.
Not giving it time to recover, Alex launched a front kick with his right foot, aiming for the stomach. The blow landed clean, but Hitmonchan stood firm, digging its feet into the ground to absorb the force. Instead of staggering, the Pokémon snatched Alex's leg in a firm grip.
Bad move.
Alex twisted his body and launched a jumping left back kick, his foot crashing against Hitmonchan's raised single-handed guard before smashing into its face. The Fighting-type finally stumbled back.
Seeing his chance, Alex pushed forward again, this time throwing a flying right haymaker. But Hitmonchan was already retreating, the punch whiffing through empty space.
Alex quickly reset his stance, breathing heavily—only now did he notice the crowd that had gathered. Nearly everyone on the first floor was watching their fight.
Why?
That single moment of distraction was his undoing.
A blind left straight came out of nowhere, slamming into his jaw.
Everything went dark.
Alex woke up to the cool sensation of a potion misting over his face, hands, and chest. Blinking against the spray, he realized he was lying on his back, surrounded by a group of strangers wearing white gis.
He groaned, his head still throbbing.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse.
The first-floor coordinator—continued applying the potion before answering. "Hitmonchan knocked you out while you were distracted."
Alex frowned as the memory rushed back. "Oh… yeah." He pushed himself up slightly. "Why was everyone staring? Did I do something wrong?"
The coordinator chuckled. "No, nothing like that. Everyone just knows how skilled that Hitmonchan is."
Seeing Alex's confusion, he explained, "Hitmonchan always targets openings—once he staggers an opponent, he never lets go. His fighting style is ruthless, fierce, and precise. If you get caught once, that's it. He'll chase you down until you quit, get knocked out, or forced out of the arena."
Alex, thinking back to the relentless assault he had faced, agreed.
The coordinator continued, "We trained him to hold back in sparring, but once he gets into a rhythm, his full power comes out. We've tried telling him to ease up, but he just shrugs it off."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "So no one fights him?"
"Not unless they're new, like you, or they want a one-sided beating," the man admitted with a smirk. "Or when they feel like they've improved enough to last longer against him."
He gave Alex an appraising look. "That's why you drew a crowd. You actually broke his rhythm and put him on the back foot. That almost never happens. Of course, he probably wasn't going all out since you're a kid, and they're trained not to attack kids seriously. But still, it was impressive."
Alex sighed, rubbing his jaw. "Guess I'll have to be more careful next time."
The coordinator grinned. "If there is a next time."
"Oh, there will be," Alex said with a determined smirk. "He's exactly the kind of pressure I've been looking for in a sparring partner."
The coordinator chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, you're still a kid, so you should be fine for now. But once you hit sixteen... don't say we didn't warn you."
Alex shrugged. "Alright. By the way, what's the deal with the Iron Ball?"
"It's to slow him down just enough for us to gauge how much we've improved," the coordinator explained. "Otherwise, against humans, he'd knock us out before we even saw his fist coming."
"Oh."
Alex got back up as the crowd dispersed, shaking off the lingering grogginess. His eyes found Hitmonchan, still in his corner, cycling through his moves—Thunder Punch, Fire Punch, Ice Punch, Drain Punch, Mach Punch—each executed with sharp precision and flair as he shadowboxed.
Alex cracked his neck and walked over. "Hey, sorry about that. I got distracted. Want to pick up where we left off?"
Hitmonchan paused mid-motion, then gave a firm nod. "Hit!"
Alex grinned, raising his guard. "Alright. Let's go."
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