As Alex changed into his gi while his Pokémon were being treated, he reflected on the battle.
The Pokémon he and his team faced were of noticeably lower breed quality and level—not by much, but enough to make a difference.
Urshifu and Lucario were the only ones who could match Kommo-o and Arcanine in stats. Though slightly weaker, they were close enough. The rest of Koichi's team, like Alex's own, fell below the level of top-tier Pokémon.
Their overall power was also lower, meaning they were at a clear statistical disadvantage.
That made sense, considering the gym's restrictions.
To accommodate the wide variety of challengers, the dojo had to maintain a massive roster of Pokémon, each tailored to provide an appropriate challenge. Keeping them within a specific power range without letting them grow too strong required careful management—especially regarding their diets. It was an intricate balancing act.
As for their performance in battle, Alex felt they could have done better. More importantly, he could have done better.
He was never a tactical or strategic genius. He fought on instinct, learning through experience and honing his reflexes over time. Unfortunately, that approach only worked for him—it required firsthand suffering to refine his instincts.
That wasn't the case when commanding Pokémon. Simply put, he sucked. He wasn't a skilled battle strategist. He was far better suited to the chaos of a battlefield, where his direct actions could shape the outcome—like when he was a bounty hunter.
Official battles with layered strategies and counterplays were exhausting. He thrived in situations where he could stack buffs to absurd levels and ambush criminals.
That kind of fight was certain. It didn't require overthinking tactical plays against an opponent.
The only reason he won this battle was that his opening strategy carried him far enough to finish it. By the end, he was down to just two Pokémon. A stronger trainer would have done better, given the advantages.
Alex finished changing and stepped onto the battleground once more—this time, for a martial arts match.
The referee raised his hand. "This is a one-on-one martial arts battle between Gym Leader Koichi and Challenger Alex! The fight will continue until one fighter is unable to battle or yields! Both fighters, take your stance!"
Koichi assumed an orthodox karate stance, left foot forward, right foot angled outward, and both knees bent for stability. His left hand was raised in front of his face, palm open and facing right, elbow bent at a right angle. His right hand remained tucked at his waist in a tight fist, ready to unleash a powerful strike. His back was straight, shoulders squared—an embodiment of discipline and readiness.
Alex scanned the crowd, noting the trainers and their Pokémon watching intently. His own Pokémon, in particular, looked thrilled.
Unfortunately, Alex wasn't confident. Instinct told him that Koichi was as strong as an Expert-ranked Pokémon. Even against Pokémon and their devastating moves, Koichi could hold his own.
This was a man who had spent his life training, feeding on the highest-quality Pokémon meat money could buy, and refining his skills for decades. There was no doubt—if he wanted to, Koichi could manhandle Alex like a child.
At this point, Alex could only hope he wouldn't embarrass himself.
Taking a deep breath, he settled into a loose stance, raising his fists with his left foot and left fist slightly forward. His eyes locked onto Koichi's, ready to react to the slightest hint of intent.
Begin!" the referee announced, bringing his hand down before quickly stepping back.
The moment the referee's hand came down, Koichi lunged forward with explosive force, closing the distance in a blink. His right fist shot forward in a straight punch, a textbook karate strike aimed at Alex's center.
Alex barely had time to react. He pivoted on his front foot while swinging his right side back, slipping just outside Koichi's strike zone as the punch whizzed past his chest. He countered instantly, his left hand snapping out into a hook with the momentum of the turn aimed at Koichi's chin.
Koichi barely flinched. With his body still in motion, he shifted his head back slightly, letting the hook graze past his chin before pivoting his right foot and twisting the left side of his body back. His left foot kicked off hard building up the momentum of his spin. His left elbow came around like a battering ram.
Alex ducked just in time. He felt the air pressure of the elbow strike above his head, but before he could capitalize, Koichi's right knee shot up like a piston. It crashed into his side, sending him skidding backward with a grunt.
Alex clenched his jaw, adjusting his stance. This guy was built like a tank.
Koichi didn't give him time to breathe. He charged again, his left fist cocked back for a devastating haymaker. Alex's instincts screamed at him—if that punch landed, he was done. He shifted to the right, bobbing under the incoming strike, and countered with a rapid-fire combination. Left hook to the ribs, right hook to the ribs, then an uppercut straight to Koichi's jaw.
The hits connected, but Koichi barely staggered. Instead, he grabbed Alex by the arm mid-uppercut, locking his grip like a vice. Alex's eyes widened—he was caught. With a guttural roar, Koichi yanked him off his feet and hurled him over his shoulder.
Alex twisted in midair, landing on his back with a heavy thud. The impact rattled his bones, but he forced himself to roll away just as Koichi's heel came crashing down in a brutal axe kick. The ground where he had been a second ago cracked under the sheer force.
Scrambling to his feet, Alex exhaled sharply. Koichi wasn't just strong—he was relentless. He needed to be smarter.
Koichi advanced again, fists clenched, ready to end it. But this time, Alex didn't retreat. He surged forward instead, ducking low, weaving past Koichi's punch, and closing the distance between them. His fists became a blur, delivering rapid, continuous uppercuts to Koichi's midsection. By the eighth blow, Koichi retreated to get some space.
Koichi grunted, his muscles absorbing the damage, but he wasn't an easy target. With a sudden surge of power, he planted his foot and let loose a spinning backfist.
Alex barely saw it coming. He raised his arm just in time, blocking the impact, but the sheer force sent him stumbling sideways. Before he could recover, Koichi was already on him. A front kick slammed into his stomach, lifting him off his feet and sending him crashing into the dirt.
Silence filled the battlefield as dust settled around Alex's sprawled form. The trainers watching held their breath.
For a moment, Alex didn't move. Then, with a pained grunt, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, spitting blood into the dirt. He wiped his mouth and let out a short chuckle.
"Damn… feels like getting hit by a truck."
Koichi smirked. "Then get up and try again."
Alex cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders before rising to his feet. His stance was looser now, more fluid. The fight wasn't over yet.
With a shared nod, the two warriors surged toward each other once more.
Alex and Koichi's fight lasted about an hour. Koichi was clearly holding back, while Alex threw everything he had at him, exhausting every trick in his arsenal. He started with boxing, then shifted to kickboxing, and finally, when his strength was nearly spent, he attempted grappling.
Boxing worked well—his smaller frame allowed him to slip through Koichi's defenses and land clean hits.
Kickboxing, however, was another story. Koichi's footing was like that of an ancient tree, unmoving and unshakable. Attempting a leg sweep felt pointless, and kicking in general proved suicidal; the moment Koichi caught his leg, the only outcome was getting thrown to the ground.
Grappling was even worse. Holds were utterly ineffective—Koichi simply powered through them with sheer strength.
Leverage only worked when strength levels were somewhat comparable. Against Koichi, who felt like he belonged in a weight class of his own, it was a losing battle.
In the end, the referee called the match after an hour, declaring Koichi the winner.
Alex still received his badge, though. The old man had only fought him for fun rather than as a requirement—otherwise, Bruno might be the only real challenge for him in Kanto.
Alex swore he'd reach their level of physical power one day. For now, he had plenty of catching up to do.
After receiving his Martial Arts Badge, he checked for any new privileges, only to find there were none. Apparently, he needed three badges before he could elevate his standing as a trainer.
Wasting no time, he registered online for a gym challenge at the Grass Gym in Celadon City. The earliest reservation he could get was ten months from now. The sheer number of trainers vying for gym battles made scheduling nearly impossible.
If people were allowed to book multiple gym battles in advance, every gym in Kanto would be locked up for the next ten years.
To prevent such a logistical nightmare, the League enforced a strict rule: one scheduled gym match per trainer at a time. This system ensured a more manageable and fair scheduling process, considering the harsh reality that many trainers didn't survive long in the wild.
In theory, a dedicated trainer could collect all eight badges by the time they turned 24. By then, even the least talented among them would have a respectable number of Expert-ranked Pokémon—just strong enough to participate in the League Conference.
Alex went home with his Pokémon and decided to give both them and himself the rest of the day off. They had earned it.
Tomorrow, however, there would be no rest. They were heading back to the wilds—back to bounty hunting.
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