The Boxing System: I Became the King of the Ring-Chapter 33: Into The Ring

"Tommy! Open your eyes! Talk to me!"

Danny dropped to his knees and cradled Tommy’s head with both hands, checking for cuts or serious damage. His touch was gentle but his voice carried real fear.

Javier pressed against the ropes so hard the cables groaned under the pressure. His face had gone completely white. His hands shook as he gripped the top rope.

"Come on, man," Javier whispered, but his voice carried clearly in the sudden hush. "Get up. You’re tougher than this."

The Bronx crowd exploded back to life with vicious celebration.

"Brooklyn boys thought they could hang!"

"Send these bums back where they came from!"

"That’s what real boxing looks like!"

"Stick to playing basketball!"

The laughter was the worst part. They weren’t just enjoying Tommy’s defeat. They were enjoying his pain.

Caleb wandered over with his hands shoved deep in his tracksuit pockets, looking like a man who’d just watched his favorite team score a touchdown.

"Kid’s gonna be fine," he announced to nobody in particular. "Just learned what happens when you step up in weight class."

More cruel laughter rolled down from the bleachers. This was entertainment to them.

Tommy’s eyelids started fluttering like broken shutters. The harsh gym lights stabbed into his skull and made everything blurry around the edges. His head felt like someone was hitting it with hammers from the inside.

"Where... where am I?" Tommy mumbled through lips that felt thick and clumsy.

"You’re in the Bronx, kid," Danny said, relief flooding his voice. "You got knocked down but you’re gonna be okay. Just stay still for a minute."

The medical technician shined a pen light into Tommy’s eyes, moving it back and forth slowly. "Pupils are responsive and equal. Good signs. No obvious signs of serious head trauma."

"Can you tell me your name?" the medic asked.

"Tommy... Tommy Vega."

"Good. What gym do you train at?"

"Gleason’s... in Brooklyn."

The medic nodded to Danny. "He’s oriented. Should be fine but he needs to take it easy for a few days."

Danny helped Tommy sit up inch by inch. The whole gym tilted and spun like he was on some twisted merry-go-round. His stomach lurched and he thought he might throw up right there.

Javier squeezed through the ropes and dropped to one knee beside his friend. Up close, Tommy could see Javier’s hands were still shaking.

Tommy tried to speak but the words got tangled up before they reached his mouth. His face burned with embarrassment that felt worse than every punch he’d taken.

All those months of training. All those 5 AM wake-up calls. All those hours hitting bags and doing conditioning. All those dreams of proving he was more than just another group home kid.

All for this. To get knocked unconscious in front of a crowd that treated his pain like a comedy show.

But underneath the shame, other feelings became apparent. The relief that it was finally over and he didn’t have to absorb any more hard punches and the gratitude that Javier was right there beside him instead of backing away from his failure.

And deeper down, in a place that surprised him, anger began building. Not at Kevin, who was just doing his job. Not even at himself for not being good enough.

But the anger at being dismissed. At being written off as just another hood kid who couldn’t hang with real competition. At people assuming this one fight defined everything he was capable of.

The anger felt clean and pure and useful.

Tommy looked up at Javier and tears started running down his face. He didn’t make any noise but the tears just came anyway.

"This ain’t over," he whispered so only Javier could hear. "Not even close."

************

"Enough!" Caleb’s voice boomed across the gym. He clapped his hands twice, sharp and loud. "Time for the main event. Antoine - get your ass in there!"

The crowd came alive again. Fresh blood in the water. Tommy was already forgotten, just another casualty.

Tommy sat propped against the ring post, an ice pack pressed to his face. Through his one good eye, he watched Javier lace up his gloves with steady hands.

No shaking. No panic. Javier looked ready for war, like he was born into this and he only had one word of encouragement for him.

"Make them pay," Tommy whispered, too quiet for anyone else but him and Javier to hear.

Javier stepped through the ropes and the whole atmosphere changed. This wasn’t going to be a lesson. This was going to be a fight of two good boxers.

************

Antoine was already waiting in the center, rolling his massive shoulders. The guy looked like he bench pressed cars for fun. Scars above both eyes told stories about fights that had gone the distance.

"Fresh meat," Antoine said loud enough for the crowd to hear. "Hope you last longer than your friend."

Javier didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at Antoine yet. He was staring at something only he could see. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Vicente materialized at ringside, clearer than he’d ever been. The ghost’s eyes burned with an intense focus.

"Remember what I taught you about fear," Vicente said, his voice cutting through the gym noise like a blade. "Use it. Channel it. Make it your weapon."

Javier nodded once, almost invisible.

The referee motioned both fighters forward. Antoine strutted to the center like he was walking a red carpet. Javier moved like a predator stalking prey.

They touched gloves. Antoine squeezed hard, trying to crush Javier’s fingers. Javier squeezed back harder.

"You’re about to learn why they call me Iron Jaw," Antoine said.

Javier looked him dead in the eyes. "And you’re about to learn why that doesn’t matter."

The crowd fell silent. Even the Bronx supporters sensed something different about this Brooklyn kid.

The referee raised his hand. "Fighters ready?"

Both nodded.

"Box!"