Clarissa signed up for the Fighting Dojo's beginner classes, scheduled on weekends, after Alex recommended them to her.
When the weekend arrived, she woke up earlier than usual, eager to head out first thing in the morning. Since the dojo provided uniforms, she opted for her usual casual clothes. She wore a fitted black tank top, high-waisted denim shorts, and white sneakers, completing the look with a red jacket tied around her waist.
She took a moment to check herself in the mirror before nodding in approval—she was cute, and she knew it.
Taking the bus to the dojo, she stepped inside, where a receptionist greeted her.
"Hello, welcome to the Fighting Dojo. How can I help you?" the pretty receptionist asked.
"I signed up for the beginner self-defense course. It should be under Clarissa," she replied.
"I see you here for the four-hour course. Just head over to the floor coordinator, and he'll get you set up."
"Okay."
Clarissa made her way over to the floor coordinator, who signed her in and handed her a gi. After changing, she took her position as instructed and began practicing basic punches and kicks.
The emphasis was on proper form and technique rather than speed or power—conditioning their bodies to execute the movements correctly.
An hour in, she was already tired. She kept in shape with light jogging alongside her Pokémon daily, but an hour of this was pushing her usual limit.
Two hours in, sweat dripped from her brow as the monotonous drills wore on. The repetition was grueling, but maintaining proper form demanded her full focus.
Finally, after two straight hours of drills, they were given a break.
As she sipped water from her bottle, she noticed Alex descending from the second floor. His expression was blank, almost bored, as if trapped in routine. He changed into a gi and strode toward a Machamp, which sat idly nearby, looking equally uninterested.
The moment Alex stepped into the training area, Machamp sprang to its feet, launching forward with all four arms drawn back, aiming for his head, chest, and stomach in a brutal opening assault.
Alex reacted instantly, hopping lightly backward just as Machamp planted its foot firmly, drawing strength from the ground to amplify its punches.
Without hesitation, Alex snapped back with a powerful side kick to Machamp's chest, causing it to stumble. The Fighting-type recoiled before launching a flurry of blows. Alex weaved and countered—tilting his head to evade, parrying with swift precision, and turning direct hits into grazing blows by rolling with the impact.
Suddenly, Alex stepped in, disrupting Machamp's offensive with rapid left jabs that forced it to adjust. With a sudden shift, he pivoted on his left leg, bringing his right foot around in a textbook-perfect roundhouse kick to Machamp's side.
Machamp absorbed the blow but retaliated immediately, using both left arms to trap Alex's leg while its right arms lashed out.
Alex countered with expert timing—deflecting the lower punch with his left forearm, intercepting the upper one with a right hook, and simultaneously driving his knee deep into Machamp's core while leveraging his waist.
The impact shook Machamp enough for it to release his leg, but it lunged again, throwing another four-arm assault. This time, Alex deflected the blows aimed at his head while taking the hits to his chest and stomach. He was too close.
As Machamp pressed forward, Alex hopped back, then launched a spinning back kick straight into its core, halting its momentum.
He settled into his fighting stance—light on his feet, bouncing rhythmically, shifting his weight fluidly. His hands rose and fell in an alternating pattern, a loose yet controlled motion designed for agility, evasion, and striking at will.
Fighting Machamp had taught him a critical lesson—maintaining distance was key. Up close, taking all four punches was inevitable. By keeping his range, he could control the fight, utilizing kicks and footwork over brute force. Bruce Lee's dynamic, unpredictable stance was perfect for this approach.
While Alex continued his sparring, Clarissa and the other beginners watched in shock. His fighting style was brutally efficient—far more intense than the controlled sparring sessions others engaged in.
"That's Alex," the instructor remarked, noting their stunned expressions. "He came here over a year ago and has been fighting like that ever since. No one dares to spar with him. The laundry staff keeps complaining about having to clean up the blood after his matches."
Right on cue, Machamp's right hook slipped past Alex's guard, landing a solid hit that split his brow. Blood trickled into his eye, but he merely blinked it away, continuing to fight with one eye open. Machamp seized the opportunity, throwing a series of right hooks to exploit his reduced vision.
"Why isn't he stopping? He could bleed to death!" Clarissa exclaimed.
"He'll be fine. He's been through worse," the instructor said, unimpressed. "Honestly, he's on his game today—ten minutes in and only one cut. That's an improvement."
The instructor had observed Alex's progress over time. His blocking was tighter, his kicks more precise, his balance sharper. Watching him fight made the instructor almost tempted to challenge Machamp himself.
Almost.
Machamp was typically reserved for the dojo's senior trainers—seasoned fighters with years of conditioning, their bodies toughened by rigorous training. Many of them had main Pokémon teams that had likely reached Elite rank by now.
But here was Alex, standing his ground, matching the blows of a Machamp that few dared to face.
The instructor called everyone's attention before continuing their routines.
Clarissa was having a hard time focusing as she continued to stare at Alex. An hour later, bloodied and bruised, Alex cleaned himself up, sprayed some Potions over his body, and went back upstairs with blood still on his gi.
Their session ended after another two hours of a different routine, this one focusing on blocking motions for the arms and legs.
At the end of the lesson, someone asked if they could ever fight like Alex, and the instructor laughed.
"No one teaches you to fight like that. You have to get beaten up so much that you simply start knowing how to fight.
Learning the basics you're being taught will go a long way in shortening that journey. The key is to learn from your fights while adjusting your own fighting style based on experience.
I don't know what Alex went through, but his fighting style is his own. One day, you will need to build your own fighting style, and these routines you're drilling into your body will be the building blocks for it.
Keep practicing every day, get beaten up brutally, and eventually, you'll be able to fight like that," the instructor answered as he dismissed everyone for the day.
Clarissa changed into her casual clothes, freshened up, dropped the gi in the laundry basket, and went to the floor coordinator to ask if she could go upstairs to find Alex.
He agreed but informed her that she couldn't participate unless she was employed by the gym.
She accepted and made her way up, finding Alex overlooking a battle. A Forretress was using Rollout to ricochet between Stealth Rocks, while a poisoned Machoke, covered in a faint purple sheen, desperately defended itself.
With the Machoke succumbing to its wounds, the trainer retrieved Machoke with a look of dejection before retreating to the healing station. Meanwhile, Alex signaled a Clawitzer, who fired a Heal Pulse at Forretress, instantly restoring his health to full.
The match was an eye-opening experience for Clarissa. The strategic use of hazards, Rollout, and Forretress's ability to execute commands without direct input from its trainer were nothing short of amazing.
Her gaze wandered as she took in the other battles. An Arcanine stood its ground, self-healing and refusing to back down. Alex's Raticate zipping through a Pangoro's attacks, remaining completely untouched. A Frosmoth expertly kiting a Machamp dodging even Rock Slides. A Swellow using Facade to overpower a Hitmonchan's Close Combat. A Nidoking wrestling fiercely with a Primeape.
This place was so much better than the battles at the academy—no long lines, no waiting. There were even open arenas with opponents already standing by.
'No wonder Alex dropped the Battle Arena for this. This is heaven. And he even gets paid per fight.' Clarissa thought.
Clarissa made her way over to Alex, who spotted her after Forretress won the fight.
"Hey, Alex. Thought I'd drop by. You should have told me you had such a nice gig going—I would have followed along."
"You never asked, and I don't know how you'd be able to get in, considering I was invited. You could have stalked Joe, but I heard he graduated last year, so you'll have to find someone else."
"How about you? Can you get me in?"
"I can try. What Pokémon do you have?"
"Charizard, as you know. Then there's Dratini, Vulpix, and Cetitan."
"Why haven't Dratini and Vulpix evolved yet?"
"I just got Dratini after he hatched from Dad's Dragonite. Vulpix is having trouble with her Fairy moves. At least one of them has to be Advanced before she even considers using an Ice Stone. Then there's her mentality—she's too innocent. She needs to be more mature before evolving."
"Your Dratini and Vulpix will have to sit this one out. They're too weak to be of use. Even my Growlithe was only tolerated because he could use Morning Sun. Cetitan could go for a brawler role, while Charizard could serve as a flying threat. Let's ask the floor coordinator if they'll consider it. He usually handles these things."
"Okay."
After talking with Ruan, Clarissa was given a chance to showcase her Pokémon's power.
As Charizard was released, the interest among the gym trainers was noticeable. Charizard was halfway through Expert rank and was powerful. It was clear that the breeding was top-notch. Cetitan was also an Expert but had only recently reached the rank, so the interest was lower. However, there was potential—depending on its ferocity.
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