Chapter 99 – Call

November 22, 1991 – MGM Grand Garden Arena, Las Vegas

The stage was cleared after the press conference, and the event staff quickly set up the scale at the center. Bright spotlights illuminated the stage as reporters and cameras crowded around, capturing every moment of the intense pre-fight atmosphere.

Eddie, the event's official announcer, stepped forward with a microphone in hand. His deep voice echoed through the packed arena.

"Now, let's begin the official weigh-in!"

The audience roared in anticipation, some excited to see the fighters up close, while others jeered, making their support—or lack thereof—clear.

Alex Makunouchi walked toward the scale, his expression calm and focused. He reached down, gripping the hem of his black Nike T-shirt, and pulled it off in one smooth motion. His chiseled upper body, lean and powerful, was fully exposed under the stage lights, showcasing the results of his grueling training.

Next, he unfastened the drawstrings of his black sweatpants and let them drop to the floor, revealing his tight Nike compression shorts. His body was dry, his skin taut from the weight cut, but his muscles were sharp, every fiber defined like a sculpture carved from stone.

The crowd's reaction was mixed—whistles from female fans, murmurs of admiration from boxing analysts, but mostly, loud boos from the American audience.

Alex ignored them as he stepped onto the scale. The digital numbers flickered before settling.

"135 pounds!"

The weight was perfect—right on the lightweight limit.

A brief silence fell over the stage. Then, in a burst of energy, Alex flexed his right bicep, the muscles tightening like steel cords. He let out a primal scream, his voice cutting through the air.

"AHHHHHH!!!"

The audience immediately responded with a wave of boos, the hostility filling the arena like a crashing tide. Alex smirked, letting the negativity fuel him. He turned to one of the cameras broadcasting live and stuck out his tongue, his confidence radiating.

From the sidelines, Kimura and Aoki watched in amazement.

"This guy is crazy…" Kimura muttered, shaking his head.

Aoki grinned. "Man, I wish I had his guts."

After Alex stepped off the scale, it was Sharmba Mitchell's turn. The American lightweight walked forward, his posture relaxed yet filled with swagger. Wearing a sleek white tracksuit, he took his time removing his top before peeling off his pants.

His frame was different from Alex's—slightly bulkier, with a thicker core, but still lean and athletic. He stepped onto the scale, and the numbers settled at:

"135.5 pounds!"

The crowd erupted into cheers. Sharmba raised both arms, nodding confidently as he soaked in the energy of his supporters.

With the weigh-in complete, the two fighters moved to the center of the stage for the traditional face-off.

Alex and Sharmba stood inches apart, their eyes locked in an intense stare.

Sharmba leaned in slightly, a smirk forming on his lips as he whispered in English, his tone dripping with venom.

"You will die tomorrow night."

The words carried an eerie weight, but Alex didn't flinch. Instead, he grinned, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

He replied in English, his voice cool and unwavering.

"I'll add you to my résumé."

Then, in an act of pure defiance, Alex stuck out his tongue at Sharmba, taunting him like a predator playing with its prey.

The crowd gasped at the audacity.

Before things could escalate further, Eddie quickly stepped in, placing a hand on each fighter's chest to separate them.

"Alright, alright! That's enough!" he announced, signaling for them to back off.

The tension remained thick as both fighters reluctantly stepped away, their expressions unreadable.

Following the lightweight weigh-in, the event continued with the face-off for the main event—Evander Holyfield vs. Bert Cooper. The two heavyweights squared up, their hulking frames exuding pure power as cameras flashed nonstop.

After leaving the stage, Alex and his team made their way through the busy corridors of the MGM Grand's backstage area. The energy of the weigh-in still lingered, but inside the private rooms, things were calmer.

Kimura was the first to speak. "Man, that was so cool! You really pissed him off!"

Aoki nodded rapidly. "Yeah! You should've seen his face when you stuck out your tongue!"

Takamura, grinning like a troublemaker, crossed his arms. "Tch. If you really wanted to get under his skin, you should've flipped him the middle finger."

Coach Kamogawa shot him a sharp glare. "That's enough. No more games." He then turned to Alex, his voice firm yet caring. "You need to eat. You're dehydrated from the weight cut."

Alex let out a slow exhale, feeling the dryness in his throat. The weight cut had drained his body, and he knew he needed to replenish himself.

Ippo, looking concerned, leaned in. "You kinda look like a zombie right now, Alex."

Coach Shinoda chuckled, and assistant coach Yagi smiled. "That's normal after a tough cut," Yagi said.

Kamogawa clapped his hands once. "Alright. Let's go. We'll eat back at the penthouse and get some rest."

With that, the team exited the arena and headed for their private luxury suite.

The Kamogawa Gym team arrived at their lavish penthouse at the MGM Grand, where a carefully prepared meal was already waiting. The chefs had been instructed to serve light but nutritious food—grilled chicken, steamed vegetables, brown rice, and electrolyte-rich drinks to help Alex recover.

Alex wasted no time digging in, knowing how crucial this meal was for his body's recovery.

As he ate, the team chatted about the event, analyzing Sharmba's demeanor and the energy of the crowd.

Kimura leaned back on the couch. "Man, tomorrow's gonna be insane. The whole world's watching."

Aoki grinned. "Yeah… But I think Alex thrives on this kind of pressure."

Takamura, sitting with his feet on the table, smirked. "We'll see if he can back up all that trash talk."

Alex, mid-bite, raised an eyebrow. "When have I ever not backed it up?"

The room fell silent for a moment before Takamura let out a loud laugh. "Hah! That's what I like to hear!"

As the night went on, the team relaxed, watching TV and making final preparations for the big day.

The early morning darkness had begun to fade as the city of Las Vegas slowly came to life. The clock struck 6:00 AM, and inside the luxurious penthouse, Alex Makunouchi and his team were already dressed and ready. They all wore matching black tracksuits with "Kamogawa Gym"emblazoned in bold white letters across the back.

Coach Kamogawa stood with his arms crossed, surveying the group. His gaze settled on Takamura, Aoki, and Kimura.

"You three," he said sternly, "won't be going backstage. You'll sit in the arena instead."

Aoki's face immediately twisted in confusion. "Huh? Why, Coach?"

Kimura nodded, sharing his friend's curiosity.

Takamura simply shrugged. "I don't mind," he said nonchalantly.

Coach Kamogawa's expression remained firm. "Because you're not assisting Alex at ringside anyway. And it'll be a good experience for you to watch from the crowd."

Ippo hesitated for a moment before speaking up. "Me too, Coach?"

Coach Shinoda, who had been standing to the side, nodded. "Yeah, you too. Me, Yagi, and Kamogawa-san will be the ones in Alex's corner."

Ippo accepted it with a nod, though he still felt a little disappointed.

Assistant Coach Yagi checked his watch. "Alright, since we're all set, we should head to the MGM Grand Garden Arena. The prelims must be finishing up now, and Alex's fight is scheduled for 9:00 AM. We still have some time."

Alex, standing slightly apart from the group, gave a silent nod. His mind was already locked into fight mode. Without another word, they all exited the penthouse, stepping into the elevator.

Upon reaching the lobby, Coach Kamogawa approached the front desk. "Could you have someone clean our room while we're gone?"

The receptionist, a young woman, nodded. "Of course, sir."

With that settled, the group headed outside, where a black Ford SUV awaited them. They all piled in, and the driver—a Japanese man—started the engine.

As they neared the MGM Grand, the sheer number of people flooding the entrance was staggering.

Coach Kamogawa leaned forward. "Drop these four off here," he said, pointing at Ippo, Kimura, Takamura, and Aoki.

The driver gave a nod. "Understood."

The SUV slowed to a stop near the entrance, and the four fighters stepped out. Ippo adjusted his jacket, watching as the crowd swarmed the arena.

"See you guys inside," Takamura said before leading the way toward the doors.

With that, the SUV drove off again, heading toward the backstage entrance where Alex, Kamogawa, Shinoda, and Yagi would prepare.

Once inside, they wasted no time organizing their gear. Shinoda checked the mitts, pads, and towels, while Yagi made sure everything was in place.

Coach Kamogawa, ever the veteran, glanced at his old leather watch. The worn strap had seen countless fights.

"7:00 AM," he muttered. "Two hours left. Start with some light stretching, Alex."

Alex exhaled slowly. "Got it, Coach. But before that…"

He turned to Assistant Coach Yagi.

"Can you call the house phone?" Alex asked.

Yagi raised an eyebrow. "It's 12:00 AM in Japan. Are you sure they're still awake?"

Alex nodded. "I made sure to tell them to tune in at 2:00 AM for my fight."

Coach Kamogawa crossed his arms. "Just call them and see."

Yagi sighed but pulled out his 1991 landline phoneand dialed the number.

Makunouchi Household - Tokyo, JapanThe phone rang once, twice.

Then, a familiar voice picked up.

"Hello?"

It was Mari.

Alex smiled slightly. "It's me."

On the other end, Mari's tone instantly brightened. "Why did you call? I thought you'd be getting ready for the fight! The TV's already on, and I'm waiting for your match."

Alex chuckled. "There's still two hours before my fight. I just wanted to make sure you're watching. Is Aunt Hiroko asleep?"

Before Mari could answer, another voice joined in—Hiroko Makunouchi.

"No, I'm here," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "Mari pestered me yesterday to stay up for your match… Even though I told her I can't bear to see you boys get hurt on TV."

Alex softened at his aunt's words. "Don't worry, Auntie. I'll make this fast and easy."

Mari giggled. "I'll hang up now so you can focus on your fight. We'll be watching from here."

She hesitated for a moment before adding, "I miss you."

Alex smirked slightly. "I miss you too. I'll be back soon."

With that, Mari ended the call.

Hiroko turned to her, a knowing look in her eyes. Mari immediately blushed.