My Boxing System: The Undisputed Champion

The morning light seeped through the thin curtains of Troy's room, waking him before his alarm could. The soreness in his muscles had become a familiar companion, but today it felt more intense than usual. His arms ached, his legs felt heavy, and there was a dull throb in his ribs from the sparring session with Kenny.

Troy groaned as he rolled out of bed and glanced at the time. He had just enough to get ready for school if he didn't dawdle. Skipping was no longer an option—he'd missed too many days, and his teachers had started to notice.

He hurried through his morning routine, throwing on a hoodie and jeans before heading out the door. His backpack felt heavier than it should have as he slung it over one shoulder and started the walk to school.

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The school courtyard was bustling when Troy arrived. Groups of students gathered in their usual cliques, laughing and talking. Troy kept his head low, weaving through the crowd toward his locker.

As he opened it, a shadow loomed over him. He turned to see Trayvon and his crew standing there, grinning like they'd been waiting for this moment.

"Well, well, look who decided to show up," Trayvon said, his voice dripping with mockery. "What's the matter, Hunter? Run out of places to hide?"

Troy clenched his fists at his sides. He wasn't the same weak kid Trayvon had bullied weeks ago, but old habits were hard to shake. His instinct was to avoid confrontation, to walk away. But then he remembered Marcus's voice in the gym: "Don't backpedal. Stay in the pocket."

"I'm not hiding," Troy said, his voice steady despite the pounding in his chest.

Trayvon's smirk faltered for a second, but it was quickly replaced with a sneer. "Big words, Hunter. Let's see if you can back them up."

Before Trayvon could say more, the school bell rang, and a teacher appeared at the end of the hallway.

"Get to class, all of you!" the teacher barked, and Trayvon's crew reluctantly backed off.

As Troy turned to leave, Trayvon leaned in close. "This isn't over, Hunter. You're gonna regret it."

---

The rest of the school day passed in a blur. Troy struggled to focus in class, his mind racing with thoughts of Trayvon. The fear was still there, but it was different now. It wasn't paralyzing—it was motivating. He wasn't going to let Trayvon push him around anymore.

By the time the final bell rang, Troy felt a mix of relief and anticipation. He packed up his things and headed toward the gym, his steps quick and purposeful.

---

The walk to the gym had become a ritual for Troy. He passed the same houses, the same basketball court, the same corner store where he sometimes grabbed a snack. Today, the air felt cooler, the sky overcast.

As he approached the gym, he saw a familiar figure standing outside. It was Miguel, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

"Took you long enough," Miguel said as Troy walked up.

"What are you doing out here?" Troy asked.

"Waiting for you," Miguel replied. "Marcus said we're sparring again today. Thought I'd give you a heads-up so you don't embarrass yourself too much."

Troy rolled his eyes but couldn't help a small smile. Miguel's teasing had shifted over the past few weeks from outright hostility to something resembling camaraderie.

"Let's see who embarrasses who," Troy shot back as they walked inside.

---

The gym was buzzing with activity as always. Fighters worked the heavy bags, trainers shouted instructions, and the ring in the center was occupied by a pair of amateurs going at it.

Marcus spotted Troy and Miguel as they entered. "Hunter, Ramirez, you're sparring in ten. Get warmed up."

Troy nodded and headed to the wraps station. As he wrapped his hands, he thought about Trayvon. He imagined his face on the heavy bag, on the sparring partner in the ring.

When it was time to spar, Troy felt ready. He climbed into the ring, meeting Miguel's smirk with a determined glare.

The first round started with Miguel on the offensive. He came at Troy with quick, sharp jabs, testing his defense. Troy relied on his head movement, slipping and ducking the punches with growing confidence.

"Stop dancing and throw something!" Marcus shouted from the sidelines.

Troy timed Miguel's next jab, slipping it and countering with a right cross that landed clean on Miguel's chin. The impact sent a shock through his arm, but it also sent a rush of satisfaction through his chest.

Miguel grinned, shaking off the punch. "Not bad, Hunter. Let's see if you can keep it up."

The rest of the sparring session was a blur of punches and movement. Miguel's experience gave him the upper hand, but Troy held his ground, landing solid counters and showing improved footwork.

When the final bell rang, both fighters were drenched in sweat and breathing hard.

"Good work, both of you," Marcus said as they climbed out of the ring. He turned to Troy. "You're improving, but you're still hesitating. Commit to your punches. Don't hold back."

Troy nodded, replaying the session in his mind. He could see where he'd hesitated, where he'd missed opportunities.

---

The walk home was quiet, the sky darkening as the sun set behind the buildings. Troy replayed the day in his head, from Trayvon's taunts to the sparring session with Miguel.

He knew he couldn't avoid Trayvon forever. Sooner or later, he'd have to stand up to him. But for now, he focused on the progress he was making in the gym.

As he approached his apartment, Troy felt a sense of determination settle over him. He wasn't the same kid he'd been weeks ago, and he wasn't going to let anyone—Trayvon, Miguel, or even himself—hold him back.

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