The Boxing System: I Became the King of the Ring-Chapter 25: Recovery Days

"Yo, Javi. Wake up, man."

Tommy’s hand shook Javier’s shoulder. His voice was too loud, disturbing the quiet Sunday morning. The black eye from his fight looked better now - yellow-green instead of deep purple. But his grin was infectious.

Javier’s eyes opened slowly. His body felt like he’d been hit by a truck. Every muscle ached. His ribs throbbed where Devon had caught him clean in round one.

"What time is it?" Javier groaned, rolling over.

"Nine thirty. Carlos’s game starts at noon."

The group home was alive with noise. Kids ran between rooms, shouting about finding clean clothes and borrowing shoes. Doors slammed. Voices echoed through thin walls.

Javier sat up careful, wincing when pain shot through his side. "State championship, right?"

"Hell yeah. First time any of us made it this far." Tommy bounced on his toes. "Carlos has been up since six, pacing around like a caged animal."

The system window flickered weak in Javier’s vision:

[MINOR RIB FRACTURE: 94% HEALED]

[REST REQUIRED: 48 MORE HOURS]

He pushed himself off the low mattress. His legs felt stiff. Everything hurt, but he felt proud of that hurt, they were battle scars.

In the bathroom, cold water hit his face, sending a chill down his body. The mirror reflected tired eyes and a small cut over his left eyebrow from Devon’s hook.

Vicente appeared behind him in the reflection. The ghost looked solid in the morning light.

"How are you holding up?" Vicente asked.

"Like I got hit by a train."

"Good. Means you gave everything in there." Vicente’s expression softened. "Pride heals faster than bruises."

Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Tommy’s voice got closer.

Vicente faded like mist just as Tommy walked in.

"Are you talking to yourself again?" Tommy asked, grabbing his toothbrush.

"Just thinking out loud."

"About what?"

"Nothing important." Javier splashed more water on his face. "Are you ready for this?"

"Born ready. Carlos gonna tear them up today."

Javier dried his face with a rough towel. Through the small bathroom window, December cold made frost patterns on glass. The day felt important somehow. Like more than just a football game.

"Let’s go watch our boy make history," Javier said.

**************

The group home van groaned under the weight. Seventeen kids squeezed into twelve seats. Elbows jabbed ribs. Knees pressed against backs. Kevin sat on the floor between seats, grinning like he won the lottery.

Grey hummed some old song while navigating traffic. His fingers drummed the steering wheel in rhythm.

"Thirty years I’ve been doing this job," Grey said, catching Javier’s eyes in the rearview mirror. "Never had one of my boys make it to the state finals. Carlos is gonna make history today."

Tommy had his face glued to the passenger window. "Look at all these cars, man. Everyone’s going to the same place we are."

The convoy of vehicles stretched for blocks. Cars with team flags flapping from windows. Minivans packed with families. Teenagers hanging out of sunroofs, screaming school chants.

Javier watched the familiar neighborhoods slide past. Same corner stores with bulletproof glass. Same bus stops where old men played dominoes. Same vacant lots where little kids kicked soccer balls around broken concrete.

Nothing had changed, but something felt different inside him. Like he was seeing it all from higher ground.

"Yo, you see that?" David pointed out the window. "Those people got Carlos’s jersey number painted on their faces."

"That’s crazy," Tommy said. "Our boy’s famous now."

"Think he’s nervous?" Kevin asked from the floor.

"I would be," Javier said. "All these people are expecting him to win."

Cars packed every parking space. People flooded toward the gates carrying signs, flags, foam fingers. The noise reached them even through closed windows.

Tommy’s mouth dropped open. "Holy shit. Look at all those people."

"Language," Grey said, but he was grinning too.

"Sorry. Just... damn. That’s more people than I’ve seen in my whole life."

**************

The stadium noise hit Javier like a wave. Thousands of voices merged into one massive roar that vibrated through his bones. Metal bleachers stretched up toward the stadium roof, packed with bodies wearing team colors.

Down on the field, Carlos jogged through warm-up drills. His white and blue jersey caught the light as he stretched and kicked practice balls. He wore the shirt number, 10. Even from high up in the stands, Javier could see the calm focus in every movement.

"Over here!" Grey shouted over the noise, pointing toward a cluster of familiar faces halfway up the bleachers.

The Marcus Garvey section looked tiny compared to the massive crowd, but their voices carried just as loud. Kids waved homemade signs with Carlos’s name. Someone had painted "GARVEY PRIDE" across a bedsheet banner.

Dr. Vasquez stood up and waved them over. She’d claimed a whole row, jackets and bags saving seats.

"Perfect timing," she said as they climbed over other spectators. "The game starts in ten minutes."

Javier squeezed between Dr. Vasquez and Tommy. The metal bench felt cold through his jeans. Around them, thousands of conversations created a constant buzz.

"How are you feeling?" Dr. Vasquez asked, her trained eyes studying his face. "Any lingering pain?"

"Just sore. Nothing major."

"And you, Tommy?"

"Same. Ready to get back to work though."

Dr. Vasquez frowned slightly. "No rushing back. Injuries need proper healing time, especially at your age."

Tommy nudged Javier’s shoulder. "Check out the press box."

Behind tinted glass, men in expensive suits sat with notepads. Their attention was focused entirely on the field below.

"College scouts," Dr. Vasquez explained, following their gaze. "Major universities. Some professional team representatives too."

"They’re all here for Carlos?" Javier asked.

"Not just Carlos. Both teams have talent they’re watching. But Carlos is definitely on their list." She pointed to a man with a thick notebook. "That’s UCLA. And the one on the green suit is from FC Dallas."

"The professional team?"

"MLS academy program. I heard there’s even a scout from Barcelona’s youth system here today."

The reality hit Javier hard. Carlos had created his own escape route. Scholarships, professional contracts, a future that reached far beyond group homes and government assistance.

Success wasn’t just about winning games. It was about changing your entire life.