Fist Of Fate: Child of Perak

But he felt good. For the first time, he felt like he was moving forward.

"Not bad for a day's work," Coach Rahman said, handing him a towel. "You've still got a long way to go, but you're starting to look like a fighter."

Ali wiped his face, a tired but genuine grin spreading across his lips. "What's next?"

Coach chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. "Tomorrow, we work on footwork. Let's see if you can keep up."

Ali nodded, looking up at the darkening sky. Zahra's laughter, Farid's jokes, and Crystall's encouragement all echoed in his mind. He clenched his fists, the memory of that solid punch fueling him like a spark of hope.

This was just the beginning.

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3 months later…

The air buzzed with excitement at Perak High's annual sports festival. A makeshift boxing ring had been set up in the center of the sports field, drawing a crowd of students eager for some action. Among them, Ali adjusted his gloves, trying to suppress the nervous tremor in his hands.

"Relax, champ," Farid said, patting Ali's shoulder. He wore oversized sunglasses and a loud Hawaiian shirt, holding a megaphone like a true self-proclaimed manager. "You've got this. Just remember what Coach Rahman said: 'Don't get hit.' Easy peasy."

Ali groaned. "That's not what he said, Farid."

"Details." Farid grinned, then spun around and yelled into the megaphone, "Ladies and gentlemen, introducing the future champ of the world—Ali 'The Unstoppable' Hassan!"

"Farid, stop—"

Too late. The crowd turned toward Ali, some chuckling, others clapping. Zahra, perched on the edge of the bleachers with her phone, was already streaming the entire scene. "Farid, keep going!" she called. "This is comedy gold!"

"Why do I let you two anywhere near me?" Ali muttered.

Zahra leaned closer to the camera. "And here we have Ali, our underdog hero, about to take on his toughest challenge yet. Will he rise to the occasion, or will he eat dirt? Stay tuned!"

Ali shot her a glare, but a voice from the stands cut through the noise.

"You've got this, Ali!"

His eyes darted to Crystall, who sat with her friends but was unmistakably looking at him. She gave him an encouraging wave, and suddenly, the jitters in his stomach eased.

He tightened his gloves. "Okay. Let's do this."

Ali's opponent stepped into the ring—a tall senior named Firdaus. With a broad build and a reputation for winning regional tournaments, Firdaus looked every bit the part of a seasoned fighter. The crowd erupted in cheers as he shadowboxed, showing off his speed and precision.

Farid whistled. "Okay, maybe he's a little big. Like...giraffe big."

"Not helping, Farid," Ali hissed, trying to focus.

The referee signaled the start of the match, and the crowd fell silent. The first round began.

Firdaus came out strong, his punches fast and powerful. Ali struggled to keep up, dodging clumsily and narrowly avoiding a brutal right hook. His footwork faltered, and he tripped over his own feet, barely staying upright.

"Ali, move your feet!" Coach Rahman's voice echoed from the sidelines.

"Easier said than done," Ali muttered, ducking under another punch.

In the bleachers, Zahra kept up her running commentary. "And here we see Ali demonstrating the art of 'not getting hit' by running around like a headless chicken. Classic underdog strategy."

The crowd laughed, but Ali barely heard it. He was too busy staying alive in the ring.

By the second round, Ali's energy was flagging. Firdaus, on the other hand, looked like he was just getting started. He cornered Ali against the ropes, delivering a series of punches that had the crowd on the edge of their seats.

"That all you got?" Firdaus sneered.

Ali gritted his teeth. His mind flashed to Coach Rahman's lessons. Boxing isn't about brute strength; it's about timing. Wait for the right moment.

As Firdaus wound up for another punch, Ali saw it—a split-second opening. He stepped to the side and countered with a sharp jab to Firdaus's ribs.

The crowd gasped.

"Did he just—" Zahra gasped.

"Yes, he did!" Farid yelled.

The tide began to shift. Ali, fueled by the crowd's cheers—and a glimpse of Crystall's proud smile—started landing more punches. Firdaus was still stronger, but Ali's persistence began to wear him down.

The third round felt like a blur. Ali's arms ached, and every breath burned in his chest, but he kept moving. The crowd roared as the match reached its climax.

Firdaus threw a wild punch, and Ali ducked just in time. Summoning every ounce of strength, he delivered a clean uppercut that sent Firdaus stumbling.

The referee's whistle blew, signaling the end of the match.

For a moment, there was silence. Then the referee raised Ali's arm.

"The winner—Ali Hassan!"

The crowd erupted.

Ali stumbled back to his corner, barely able to stand. Coach Rahman caught him, grinning. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all."

Ali glanced toward the bleachers, where Zahra was still streaming. Farid was jumping up and down like a maniac, and Crystall was clapping with a smile that made his exhaustion worth it.

But it was Jason who caught his attention. Standing at the edge of the crowd, arms crossed, Jason gave him a slow, reluctant nod.

Ali met his gaze, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "I'm just getting started," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow.

As Ali left the ring, battered but victorious, he felt a strange mixture of pride and determination. The crowd's cheers echoed in his ears, but one thought stood out above the rest:

Im gonna fuck you up

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The glow of Zahra's laptop lit up her room as she typed furiously, a mischievous grin plastered on her face. She paused only to sip her soda and reread her latest masterpiece:

"Ali's Rising Star: From Floundering to Fighting"

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, tapping out the final lines:

From his first awkward jab to a surprising victory at the festival match, Ali Hassan has come a long way. Sure, he still trips over his own feet occasionally, but that's part of his charm. If you haven't seen him in action yet, you're missing out—Perak High might just have its own underdog legend in the making.

Satisfied, Zahra hit "publish" and leaned back. "Let the school buzz begin."