Even before the first blow, I gave my extremely talented Machoke great odds. Height, weight, raw strength, and endurance were definitely on his side. His opponent, however, had a clear advantage in speed and probably in experience as well, since his trainer already had three badges to his name.
The fight began as soon as both Pokémon nodded to each other. Hitmonchan immediately lunged forward and threw a probing lead jab. Machoke absorbed the punch into a tight guard without any trouble and pushed forward relentlessly. With his hands up, abs tensed, and taking slow, deliberate steps, he closed the distance, while Hitmonchan kept testing him with quick lead jabs.
It didn't take long for Hitmonchan to unleash full combinations. He aimed them steadily at the stomach, alternating left and right. My Machoke, however, was patient. He let himself get hit, and on the next combination, he executed our game plan. Hitmonchan went for the same pattern again: lead hand to the guard, rear hand to the stomach, left hook to the ribs—and right there, on the third strike, Machoke moved like lightning. He dropped his hands from his face and tried to grab his opponent in a swift motion.
Hitmonchan squeaked in surprise and tried to leap back. Shocked by his interrupted combination, however, he lost his balance, stumbled, and only managed to reclaim a safe distance with a quick backward roll. When he got back on his feet, his face twisted into a fierce battle grimace, and he immediately lunged forward again.
He launched into an aggressive combination once more. He was still full of energy, so I hadn't expected Machoke to catch him that easily. Because of that, I just watched the situation cautiously and analyzed the ongoing match.
Hitmonchan's punches whistled through the air and landed on my Pokémon's guard with audible thuds. But Machoke didn't wait anymore. He began kicking ruthlessly right into every combination his opponent threw. Quick lead and rear low kicks. They weren't technically flawless, but combined with Machoke's raw strength and solid guard, they were dealing noticeable damage. This tactic quickly started taking its toll on Hitmonchan. His footwork and punching frequency slowed down rapidly. He was running out of energy to dodge the hard low kicks, and his quick retreats and advances began to drag. What thrilled me the most about my Machoke, however, was his intelligent angling—thanks to it, Hitmonchan couldn't fully commit to his strikes and lost a huge amount of punching power.
"Start boxing, Machoke! Full combinations," I ordered him for the first time in the entire fight.
Practically, I could have let Machoke fight according to the original plan and he would have undoubtedly won—at least judging by how the match had gone so far. Hitmonchan was inherently faster and more experienced, but my Machoke was simply better and smarter in combat. There was nothing on the line in this match anyway, no money at stake, so solid experience against a Fighting-type Pokémon was worth more to us than a cheap, guaranteed win... Especially now, when Hitmonchan was no longer entirely fresh.
Machoke instantly dropped his hands slightly from forehead level, tucked his chin in tight, and began to box. It was as if energy surged back into his opponent's veins that very second—with an aggressive grimace on his face, he immediately accepted the challenge, and both of them began trading heavy blows relentlessly in the center of the court.
Even though Machoke was battered, he still had far more energy left, so the speed of both Pokémon relatively leveled out, although my partner was taking a bit more punishment than his opponent. His previous kicks, however, had been devastating. Every time Hitmonchan countered or tried to land a heavy blow, Machoke instantly reached out with an open hand, trying to grab him.
In the next wild exchange, they held nothing back. I saw Machoke pushing forward fiercely with a wide, bloody grin. Hitmonchan tried a quick lead jab to keep a safe distance, but Machoke ruthlessly slapped the punch down with his right hand and immediately countered with the same hand—throwing his entire body weight into a clean strike straight to the face.
Hitmonchan was sent stumbling back a good distance. You could see immediately how shaken he was—he desperately held his hands up in a tight double guard, but Machoke didn't give him a chance to breathe and kept marching forward. He instantly unleashed a striking combination that filled me with pride and brought a wide smile to my face.
He threw a lead jab straight into Hitmonchan's desperate guard. Right after, he followed up with a brutal rear straight to the solar plexus, which instantly made the opponent drop his hands from his chin in agony. Next came a quick pivot of the hips and a loaded left hook to the completely exposed temple. The dazed Hitmonchan stumbled uncontrollably to the right, his arms dangling completely by his sides. And at that exact moment, Machoke capped off the heavy combination with a lightning-fast high kick straight to the chin.
Hitmonchan collapsed limply to the ground, as if his fuses had been blown in an instant. He remained motionless, and loud applause from the spectators immediately erupted from the stands.
His surfer-looking trainer, however, was surprisingly still smiling, completely at ease. I saw him unclip a Poké Ball from his belt and was just about to recall his Pokémon, when suddenly his grin widened even further and he clipped the ball back onto his belt. Hitmonchan was actually struggling to get to his feet. He pressed his boxing-glove-shaped hands firmly against his trembling knees, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. With his unyielding determination, he reminded me exactly of Rock Lee from Naruto at that moment. The applause from the stands grew even louder, and I honestly felt compelled to join in.
I started clapping too. Machoke threw me a betrayed look for a second, like a kicked dog, as if he didn't understand why I was applauding the opponent, but a wide smile and the fire in his eyes quickly gave him away. His fighting blood couldn't be denied.
With an angry battle cry, Hitmonchan finally straightened up, dynamically leaped straight into a fighting stance—which was honestly foolish given his condition—and charged forward.
Machoke gave him a respectful nod and readily blocked his first lead jab with a solid guard. But Hitmonchan immediately followed up with another wild cry. In that split second, his right glove flashed with a sudden, sharp orange light, with which he punched Machoke square in the stomach with all his might.
The powerful blow instantly blasted my Machoke away. He tumbled hard across the stone ground, kicking up a cloud of dust. As soon as he stopped, however, he began resolutely pushing himself back up. He clutched the struck part of his abdomen tightly with his right hand, his face contorted in a painful grimace.
Hitmonchan's legs were shaking completely after that strike, and his arms fell limply from his face. He was running on absolute fumes. The fighting energy he had managed to channel into that blow was definitely unexpected.
Fighting-types had it completely different with aura energy in this world. Their inner energy primarily buffed them passively, and only when they reached a much higher aura level could they actively increase the destructive power of their strikes. Just like he had demonstrated now... However, this definitely shouldn't be common at his current three-badge level. Could this hard-fought match have pushed him so extremely past his own limits?
His surfer trainer had an excited, proud grin literally from ear to ear.
"No mercy, Machoke," I ordered coldly. Hitmonchan's determination was truly amazing and inspiring, but I refused to tolerate it at the expense of my own Pokémon's pain.
Machoke gave me a wild battle grin, waved the ridges on his head in amusement, and charged forward again with full force.
If a muscular tank like that were running at me, I probably wouldn't feel too comfortable either. That was exactly how Hitmonchan felt at that moment, immediately throwing another panicky lead jab to keep at least some distance. Machoke only smirked in amusement. He sharply lowered his center of gravity, ducked under the punch, and ruthlessly slammed Hitmonchan to the ground with his full body weight.
Hitmonchan hissed sharply upon impact—I'd bet Machoke completely knocked the wind out of him with that crash. My partner immediately took a dominant position over him, exactly the way I had done to him in the forest some time ago, and replicated the learned technique to a T—the Kimura.
The loud, dry pop of the shoulder being forced beyond its limit, followed by Hitmonchan's raspy, pain-filled shriek, didn't surprise me in the slightest. Machoke had dislocated his shoulder in cold blood. And it was far from over. He immediately followed up with hard, sharp elbows that rained down mercilessly on poor Hitmonchan's head and body. I was honestly starting to feel sorry for him.
I looked over at his trainer. The surfer was still grinning like an idiot on the sidelines, while his Pokémon on the ground was getting a brutal, bloody beating. Why the fuck hadn't he recalled him? I knew Fighting-types could take a lot, but this was way out of line.
Hitmonchan still tried desperately to defend himself with at least his healthy right arm. His left arm, however, lay completely limp on the ground, twitching reflexively in pain every now and then. After a moment of this desperate resistance, Machoke grabbed him firmly under the armpits and, with a powerful leap, threw him high into the air.
Oh, shit, I thought to myself when I saw what he was planning to do. He had taken that "no mercy" thing to a complete extreme.
Before I could yell anything or stop him, Machoke caught his opponent in mid-air, gripped him firmly by the upper thighs, and slammed him mercilessly into the ground with all his mammoth strength. Upon impact, the stone court beneath them cracked loudly and shattered in all directions. A thick cloud of dust instantly enveloped the entire area, and the massive roar of the impact echoed throughout the entire battle arena complex.
A dead, almost sacred silence fell over the area. It took several long seconds for the dust to settle and the scene to become clearly visible again.
Machoke stood over the motionless Hitmonchan with a fierce, wild smirk. Just to be safe, he kept him pinned to the ground with his foot, ready to strike immediately if he happened to move and needed to be finished off for good. But his opponent was so still that I was genuinely terrified he might be dead. Fortunately, his fucking trainer finally reacted at that second and recalled him into his Poké Ball with a red beam.
Massive applause from the stunned spectators erupted from the stands once more. Machoke turned in my direction, but when he saw my scowl, he raised an eyebrow at me inquisitively. The surfer on the other side of the court was still smiling as if nothing serious had happened, and began walking toward me with a slow stride.
Meanwhile, my Pokémon drew himself up proudly and waved victoriously to the stands, which triggered an even more thunderous round of applause, and then headed toward me as well.
"Machoke?" he grunted inquisitively as he reached my side and sensed my tension.
"Just a second," I replied to him completely calmly, but my eyes remained locked in a tight, angry glare on the surfer walking up to us.
All my initial liking for this guy had absolutely evaporated within a matter of minutes. He had let his own Pokémon get beaten to a pulp. He hadn't given him a single tactical instruction during the entire match, and I was one hundred percent sure he hadn't prepared even an elementary strategy beforehand. It was purely poor Hitmonchan against me and my Machoke. Pure amateurism at the expense of a living creature.
"Great battle," the surfer said enthusiastically when he reached me. "Your Machoke is really strong, you must have had him for quite a while."
"Hm," I shrugged coldly.
"Thanks for the match, we should do it again sometime," he suggested with a smile. "I'll get Hitmonchan healed up, and once he's fit tomorrow, I'll definitely come back here."
"We'll see..." I replied absolutely neutrally, though I had to hold myself back incredibly hard from giving him a piece of my mind.
I guess he finally got the hint about my complete lack of interest. With a slightly stiff smile on his face, he spun on his heel and walked away, without even saying goodbye.
Machoke watched me with interest. He had visible bruises and faint marks from his opponent's strikes on his body, and his skin flared with a wilder, darker coloration in places, but he didn't look like he was suffering. It was the right time to give him immediate feedback.
"Great job, Machoke. I'm really proud of you," I gave him a warm, genuine smile and immediately continued, "You followed our tactical plan practically to the letter. You patiently and intelligently disassembled and destroyed him."
Machoke grinned widely, heroically puffed out his robust chest, and struck it hard with his right fist: "Machoke!"
"Yeah," I nodded. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves... That Hitmonchan was good, but he was fighting completely alone against the two of us," I cooled him down immediately so he wouldn't rest on his laurels.
"His trainer gave him absolutely no instructions. He kept trying the same pattern over and over, which was visibly failing. His strikes and combinations kept repeating even though they were ineffective, and his trainer just stood there grinning like an idiot," I shook my head in disgust. "But of course, that's not your fault. It was still great work on your part..." I nodded in final approval. "And most importantly, it showed us exactly which direction we're going to take with your training in the future."
"Macho Machoke!" he nodded resolutely, a spark of eagerness for some serious, hard training flashing in his eyes. "Mach Machoke?" he looked at me curiously.
"You're strong, incredibly durable, and you have brutal endurance. Your problem, however, is pure speed. That's your biggest weakness at the moment, and it will be even after you evolve into Machamp," I told him straight out. "So, we are going to targetedly drill your dynamic speed and reflexes. At the same time, I'll show you some new techniques... And once your aura energy improves over time, we'll try to actively increase the destructiveness of your punches."
"Machoke Mach!" he nodded in agreement and bowed to me with deep respect.
It was a bit strange and unusual for me, but I returned the bow with equal seriousness.
While I was analyzing the match with Machoke, the local ranger, with the help of his Golem, quickly patched up the entire battlefield. Not a single trace was left on the ground after that rough and destructive match between two Fighting-types.
My shadow on the ground suddenly squirmed in a wild, Haunter-like fashion, reminding me that we were still missing two members for a full roster. I immediately reached for my belt and called them out.
"Wartortle!" "Houndoom!"
The Pokémon greeted me loudly and immediately started looking around curiously at the surroundings and the other trainers. Right now, a battle between Raichu and Flareon was underway on court number four. Sharp flashes and thunderous cracks of electrical discharges mingled with wild salvos of fire. I watched the situation with professional interest for a moment, and at a glance, it seemed to me that Flareon currently had the upper hand.
"Ready for a real fight, guys?" I asked my entire team.
The response came immediately and was absolutely unanimous.
"Macho!" "WAR!" "Hound!" "Haunter!"
At that moment, a shorter female trainer with wild red hair, a sassy smile on her lips, and elegant black glasses perched on her nose began confidently approaching us. Even at first glance, she looked quite sharp and tactically skilled, which, after all, was confirmed by the absence of any Pokémon released just roaming beside her.
***
Author's note:
Fun fact: My own Muay Thai coach actually used the exact same approach with me as I do with Machoke in this story (Big thanks to Johny! :D).
Honestly, micromanaging a fighter during a live match is the worst thing a coach can do. It's impossible. Real fighting requires hard training beforehand, a solid game plan going in, and quick, decisive adjustments only when needed.
This fight is a perfect example of why amateurs—like our surfer friend—shouldn't be training Fighting-types. He just stood there cluelessly while his Hitmonchan desperately tried to solve Machoke's defensive shell.
What do you think? Who's going to be stepping into the ring in the next chapter? Let me know in the comments!
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***
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