Blood still dripped from Tokita Ohma's clenched fingers.
His breathing was heavy, his chest heaving like a beast on the verge of collapse. In front of him, his opponent's body fell limp. Another name defeated. Another scar carved into his story. The arena fell silent, as if the world itself understood that this fight had been different.
Final.
Ohma staggered two steps back. His vision was blurry. His heart beat irregularly, each pulse feeling more distant than the last. A chill ran down his spine. It wasn't exhaustion. It was… the end.
"Tch…" he chuckled, spitting blood. "Again, huh?"
It was the same sensation. The same one he had felt years ago, when the Advance nearly killed him. But now, there was no fear. No regret.
He had lived again. Free from Tokita Niko's shadow. Free from constant doubt. He fought, protected, won… And now, he could rest.
Kazuo ran toward him, shouting.
"Ohma! Hold on! You won! It's okay!"
But Ohma knew. His own body betrayed him.
He dropped to his knees.
"Old man…" he murmured, with a sorrowful smile. "Thanks… for everything."
Kazuo held him tightly, as if he could stop him from falling.
"No! You still have so much left! You're not dying again, dammit! You're not!"
Ohma looked up. The arena's sky looked clear, peaceful. For the first time, there was no pressure.
Only peace.
I fought with everything I had.
I was human, I was a monster… I was a man.
I left nothing unfinished.
His body collapsed forward.
And then… silence.
A space between worlds
This time, the darkness wasn't cold, nor hostile. It was calm.
Ohma didn't float — he simply was. No time, no pain, no weight. His consciousness was there, alive, present. But without a body.
So this is real death?
A presence emerged. Not with a form or a face, but as an intense vibration around his mind. Familiar and unknown at the same time.
"Tokita Ohma. You're not done yet."
'Tch… I've heard this before. Another bored god?'
"Maybe. Or maybe this is just a world that needs someone like you."
'I already fought for two lifetimes… what more do they want from me?'
"A new world.
A place where everything revolves around combat. Where cities are divided by strength, and schools compete in national tournaments with five main representatives.
And where only those who awaken their Martial Soul can rise to the top."
Ohma remained silent for long seconds.
No one knows me there?
"No one.
No legacy.
No past.
Only your fists."
And the body?
"The same body. But 16 years old. Younger… but weak.
Too weak to withstand the Niko Style fully.
You'll have to rebuild it from scratch."
Ohma smiled.
Interesting.
"Do you accept?"
"If there's someone to fight… then yeah."
The light consumed him.