The lights burned hotter than the desert sun. Sweat poured down Daigo Renzaki's back as the final round began. His ears rang, his lungs clawed for air, and his left rib screamed with every breath. The crowd's roar was distant, muffled under the pounding of his own heartbeat.
He didn't know how many fractures he'd collected tonight. He didn't care.
One step forward. Slip the jab. Drive the hook into the body. Another step. The world narrowed to movement, to instinct, to the rhythm of combat he had lived his entire life for. His opponent collapsed, and the referee's arms were in the air. Victory.
Then, the floor tilted. His knees buckled.
The last thing he felt was the cold sting of the canvas under his cheek. The last thing he saw was the ceiling lights blurring into darkness.
When Daigo awoke, the smell of antiseptic and sweat was gone. Instead, damp earth, wood smoke, and the soft chirping of cicadas filled the air. He lay in a small room with paper walls, his body smaller, lighter and yet unfamiliar.
Outside, children laughed, their voices carrying strange words. One word stood out.
"Konoha."
Daigo sat up slowly. His fighter's instinct told him everything had changed and yet, one truth remained the same. Strength was survival.
If this world had its own way of fighting, he would learn it. If it had limits, he would break them.
After all… a fighter without limits had just been born again.