CHAPTER 41: CHAPTER 41: TOURNAMENT DAY

The gym felt different today. Final training session energy had everyone moving carefully, no one wanting to get injured one day before competition.

Miguel gathered Javier and Tommy after shadowboxing, his expression more serious than usual.

"Tomorrow, I’m cornering Javier. Danny’s with Tommy."

Tommy nodded. "Makes sense. You guys trained me from the beginning."

"And I know Tommy’s style better," Danny added, adjusting his baseball cap. "Plus, Miguel’s got more amateur tournament experience."

Miguel pulled them closer, voice dropping low. "Javier, stick to what we practiced. Use your jab, stay aggressive but controlled."

Danny turned to Tommy. "Remember what happened with your concussion. Keep those hands up, no matter how tired you get."

The weight of tomorrow pressed down on both boys like a heavy blanket.

Back at the group home, evening quiet time felt strange. Javier whispered into the empty air beside his bed.

"Vicente? You there?"

Silence. Nothing but the distant hum of traffic and someone coughing down the hall.

Tommy looked over from his bed. "You talking to yourself again?"

"Just thinking out loud."

Two days now since the registration poster incident. Vicente hadn’t appeared or responded since then. The silence felt worse than his presence ever had.

Javier lay back and decided to check his progress before the biggest day of his boxing life. The system window glowed soft blue in the darkness.

[ BOXING SYSTEM PROFILE ]

Name: Javier Restrepo

Age: 18

Nationality: USA

Weight Class: Welterweight (156.8 lbs)

Style: Swarmer

Stance: Orthodox

Record (Unofficial): 1-1-0 (Amateur)

Record (Official): 0-0-0 (USA Boxing)

[Tap to View More:]

◉ Core Stats

◉ Skills

◉ Style Traits

◉ Status

He tapped "Core Stats."

[ BOXING SYSTEM PROFILE ]

◉ Core Stats

STRENGTH: Novice Level 2 (12/100)

SPEED: Novice Level 2 (18/100)

ENDURANCE: Novice Level 2 (15/100)

TECHNIQUE: Novice Level 2 (14/100)

AGILITY: Novice Level 2 (16/100)

POWER: Novice Level 2 (11/100)

RING IQ: Novice Level 2 (13/100)

◉ Skills

◉ Style Traits

◉ Status

It was all level 2. Everything improved from the February training. The numbers proved all the early mornings, all the discipline, all the punishment was worth something.

He tapped "Skills" and scrolled through.

[ BOXING SYSTEM PROFILE ]

◉ Skills

JAB: Novice Level 2 (22/100)

CROSS: Novice Level 2 (19/100)

HOOK: Novice Level 2 (17/100)

UPPERCUT: Novice Level 2 (14/100)

FOOTWORK: Novice Level 2 (20/100)

DEFENSE: Novice Level 2 (16/100)

HEAVY BAG: Novice Level 2 (18/100)

◉ Core Stats

◉ Style Traits

◉ Status

His jab was his strongest skill. That made sense - Miguel had drilled it into him more than anything else.

He tapped "Style Traits."

[ BOXING SYSTEM PROFILE ]

◉ Style Traits

SWARMER: Level 2 (45%)

BOXER-PUNCHER: Level 1 (68%)

COUNTERPUNCHER: Level 1 (65%)

OUTBOXER: Level 1 (48%)

◉ Core Stats

◉ Skills

◉ Status

Swarmer was developing as his dominant style, but boxer-puncher showed high compatibility too. Interesting.

He tapped "Status."

[ BOXING SYSTEM PROFILE ]

◉ Status

CONDITION: Excellent

MUSCLE DEVELOPMENT: High

INJURY STATUS: None

READY FOR COMPETITION: Yes

◉ Core Stats

◉ Skills

◉ Style Traits

Ready for competition. The system agreed with what his body already knew.

The alarm rang sharp at 6 AM. Javier was already awake, staring at the ceiling. Tommy sat up immediately.

"Tournament day."

"Yeah. Let’s go for a run."

Brooklyn streets were empty except for trucks and early commuters heading to the subway. Their running shoes hit pavement in steady rhythm. Neither boy spoke - both lost in thoughts about what the day would bring.

When they reached the recreation center, Danny and Miguel were already there with official boxing corner gear spread across a table. Towels, water bottles, ice packs, medical supplies. Everything looked professional, serious.

Miguel studied Javier’s face. "How’d you sleep?"

"Couple hours. Kept thinking about the fights."

"That’s normal. Nerves keep you sharp." Danny turned to Tommy. "What about you?"

"I dreamed I forgot my mouthguard."

Danny laughed. "Also normal. We got backups of everything."

Both boys stepped on Danny’s scale. Javier: 156.2 lbs. Tommy: 147.8 lbs. Perfect weight. All that diet and training had paid off.

The venue buzzed with tournament energy when they arrived. Fighters from across Brooklyn warming up, coaches setting up corners, officials checking equipment. The large gym had been converted for tournament use. Multiple rings set up. Spectator seating was filling up fast - families claiming good spots, trainers from other gyms scouting future opponents, neighborhood supporters arriving with homemade signs.

Dr. Vasquez appeared near the entrance, scanning the crowd until she spotted them. Behind her walked David, Kevin, and three other group home kids, all wearing matching "MARCUS GARVEY BOXING" t-shirts that looked freshly made.

"There are our champions," Dr. Vasquez called out, her smile genuine and proud.

Kevin ran over first. "This place is huge! Are you nervous?"

"A little," Tommy admitted.

"I made you guys signs," David said, holding up poster board with "TOMMY" and "JAVIER" written in red marker. "Mrs. Rodriguez helped with the glitter."

"Thanks, man." Javier’s throat felt tight. These kids had gotten up early, made signs, worn matching shirts. For them.

Dr. Vasquez pulled both boys aside. "How are you really feeling?"

Javier’s stomach churned with something he couldn’t name. Not fear exactly, but something close to it. Excitement mixed with terror, hope tangled with doubt. "Like I might throw up."

Dr. Vasquez nodded. "That’s supposed to happen. Just breathe and stay focused."

Tommy nodded. "My hands keep shaking."

"That’s your body getting ready. All that adrenaline has to go somewhere." Dr. Vasquez squeezed their shoulders. "You’ve earned this. Both of you. Win or lose, you already proved something just by being here."

The spectator section continued filling up. More families, more neighborhood supporters, more gym crews arriving to watch their fighters compete. The energy in the building grew thicker, more electric.

This was the big stage. Legitimate competition.

"We’re here early. Good," Miguel said, scanning the gym. "Let’s find a quiet spot and start light movement."

They found space near the wall and began their routine. Jump rope, gentle shadowboxing, stretching. Around the gym, other fighters were doing the same thing. Everyone focused, no trash talk or dramatics. Just mutual respect among people who understood what they were all trying to do.

"Welterweight novice elite - Javier Restrepo!"

Javier stepped on the official scale. Numbers flashed: 156.2 lbs.

"Made weight. Proceed to medical."

The doctor checked his heart rate, blood pressure, examined his eyes with a small light. Looked for cuts or injuries that might open during a fight.

"You’re cleared for competition."

Tommy made weight easily at 147.8 lbs. The medical doctor cleared him too after the same examination.

They were both cleared. Both fighting today.

Miguel handed Javier a sports drink and banana. "Sip slow. Don’t chug. Small bites."

Danny did the same with Tommy, adding honey packets. "Energy back up, but don’t get heavy."

An official approached with updated brackets. "Restrepo, your opponent is Johnson Wells from Sunset Park Boxing. Late registration."

"Johnson Wells?" Javier had never heard the name.

Miguel shrugged. "Don’t know him. Doesn’t matter. Fight your fight."

The official hand wrapper - an elderly man with steady fingers - wrapped Javier’s hands with white tape and gauze. The ritual felt sacred, like armor being put on a knight.

"Too tight?"

"No, feels good."

"Perfect. Now let’s warm up proper," Miguel said.

Mitt work with Miguel. Sharp combinations. Body shots. Defensive movement. Everything clicked like pieces of a machine working together.

"You look ready. Feel ready?"

"Yeah. Really ready."

Nearby, Tommy warmed up with Danny. Both fighters in their own zones, preparing for different opponents but sharing the same nervous energy.

"Light welterweight fighters report to staging! Bout 2!"

Tommy gathered his gear. Danny applied Vaseline to his face, the petroleum jelly making his skin slick and protective.

"Remember what happened with your concussion. Keep those hands up, no matter how tired you get. Trust your training."

Tommy nodded, his jaw tight with nerves. Javier watched his friend disappear toward the staging area with Danny.

Officials checked gloves, headgear, mouthguards. Everything official and regulated. No cutting corners here.

"Any questions about the rules?"

Both boys shook their heads. They knew the rules. Three rounds, two minutes each. Olympic scoring. No turning back now.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers: "Ladies and gentlemen, our next bout features light welterweight novice elite fighters."

The crowd quieted, anticipation building like pressure in a pipe.

The referee called both fighters to center ring. Tommy climbed through the ropes with Danny behind him, adjusting his headgear. His opponent, Andre Johnson from Red Hook Boxing, was already waiting - a taller fighter with longer reach who moved with quiet confidence.

Javier could see the difference immediately. Andre bounced on his feet like he’d done this before. His 2-0 record showed. Tommy was facing a more experienced fighter.

The referee checked both fighters’ gloves and headgear. "Touch gloves, protect yourselves at all times, listen to my commands. Box!"

The bell rang sharp and clear.

Andre Johnson immediately fired a lightning-fast jab straight at Tommy’s face -