There was a bell beside the timeworn door.
It was a modern convenience that clashed with the building’s antique appearance—a device that, by its very nature, suggested one should knock and call for a servant in a loud tone.
Perhaps that contrast was inevitable when past and present collided.
When Kirishima pressed the bell, a woman’s voice answered from within.
"Who is it?"
"Good afternoon. I have an appointment for today. My name is Kirishima Eijiro."
"Ah, you must be the one my father mentioned. I’ll open the door for you."
"Thank you."
As he watched the door open automatically, Kirishima mused whether this contraption represented a harmonious blend of eras or merely a crude modern mechanism draped in a historical guise.
But it wasn’t a matter worth dwelling on; he quickly shook off the thought and stepped inside.
A meticulously maintained garden greeted him.
Following the stone path for a short while, he soon found a woman waiting by the entrance.
She appeared to be in her thirties, her refined features radiating an elegant beauty.
"Nice to meet you. I’m Srikuang Saki, the eldest daughter-in-law in this household."
"Pleasure to meet you too, Miss Saki. As I mentioned earlier, I’m Kirishima Eijiro."
"My father mentioned that a young friend would be coming, though I didn’t expect you to be this youthful."
"Haha. If you must be precise, I wouldn’t say I’m young so much as still a child—I’m only fourteen."
"Oh my, fourteen? You’re in middle school, then? I assumed you’d simply looked youthful."
Kirishima chuckled at Saki’s astonishment.
By now, it was a familiar reaction—people were often incredulous when a middle schooler traveled alone and stayed in various places for days on end.
Even in his previous life, where the world wasn’t plagued by villains, it was unusual for a middle schooler to roam so freely, so the reaction was understandable.
"I’m in the third year of middle school and will be entering high school next year. Since my birthday hasn’t come yet this year, I’m still fourteen."
"That’s impressive. I’d never have the heart to travel alone."
"It’s not about being impressive. I simply have something I want to achieve, and I believe I can do it."
"That determination is admirable. Honestly, the way you talk—it reminds me a lot of my father."
"You mean Srikuang?"
"Yes. He used to recount his youth in much the same way—saying it wasn’t about greatness but simply about doing what one could."
"I see. Oh, is the old man available now?"
"Oh dear, excuse me—I got carried away talking and left you standing here. My father is in his room. Let me take you to him."
"Yes. Thank you."
Following her petite figure, Kirishima was led into a modest room.
From just outside the door, she announced,
"Father, your guest has arrived."
"Is that so? Please, come in."
A thick, deep voice resonated from behind the door.
With his heart pounding, Kirishima stepped through the door that Saki had opened.
Inside sat an elderly man of small stature.
His frame, modest and slightly underwhelming compared to the taxi driver’s description, was offset by eyes that burned with a piercing intensity.
Those eyes still carried the fire of youth.
"Good afternoon. My name is Kirishima Eijiro. It’s a pleasure to meet you."
"I’m Srikuang—call me Samat. That’s easier for me. Now, sit down."
"Understood, Samat."
"Saki, you may leave. I have something to discuss with this boy."
"Yes, Father."
After dismissing Saki, Samat scrutinized Kirishima from head to toe.
Although his manner might have seemed brusque, Kirishima understood the unspoken message and met his gaze steadily.
Samat clicked his tongue before speaking.
"I’m sorry for making you stand when I’d asked you to sit, but could you please stand up and remove your top? That’ll do."
"Understood."
Kirishima complied without hesitation, revealing a physique sculpted as though by a divine artisan.
With a sharp gaze, Samat rapidly inspected every part of his body.
His eyes lingered appreciatively on the unusually developed triceps and the well-defined serratus muscles before he issued another command.
"Now, turn around."
When Kirishima obliged, his deltoids and lats came into clear view, their contours unmistakable.
Samat clicked his tongue again as he noted the rigid spinal erectors standing firm like steel columns.
"Tch. For a kid, you’ve built an impressive body. This isn’t just for show—you’ve clearly been training your striking for a long time. Who taught you?"
"I taught myself."
Unable to reveal his past life to Samat, Kirishima lied, insisting he was self-taught.
Samat's eyes widened in surprise.
"What? You did it all on your own?"
"Yes. I trained by watching boxing videos, filming myself, comparing the recordings with the original footage, and adjusting my technique accordingly."
"Hah. I used to think any kid who reached out to learn Muay Thai these days was just an oddball, but this is beyond that. You’re truly exceptional—no one sane could achieve such a physique on their own."
"Haha. Perhaps a bit so? I aspire to be a hero, and since my Quirk makes my body tougher, I needed to learn how to fight. I can’t just stand there and take every hit."
"So necessity drove you? That can’t be the whole story."
"True enough."
Samat let out a short laugh as Kirishima assented.
It was evident that his development wasn’t the result of a day or two of training.
Every inch of Kirishima’s body was a testament to years of relentless self-improvement and struggle.
And yet, somehow, Samat found himself relating to the young man’s journey.
"Fine. Whatever else drove you, when you have a passion, you must learn and adapt to it. I was the same once."
"You too, Samat?"
"Yeah. Now, put your shirt back on and sit down. You’re distracting me."
Complying with his instruction, Kirishima quickly redressed and sat down once more.
With a distant, wistful look, Samat continued his tale.
"I grew up in a poor family, and back in Thailand, there were only a handful of ways for a poor kid to make something of himself."
"Thailand must have been rough then."
"It was chaotic, no doubt. But when I was young, things were relatively decent— the royal family was still intact, and although politics were turbulent, it wasn’t the worst. So I turned to Muay Thai. It was the only way to earn a good living and make real money. Simply, I did it out of necessity."
"I heard that, in ancient times—like, very long ago—Muay Thai was incredibly famous."
"It was. Thailand and Muay Thai were almost synonymous. Even in my youth, while it hadn’t reached the heights it once had in the era before Quirks, it still held considerable prestige. That’s why being a nak muay could pave the way to success."
"I can hardly imagine such days now."
"Nowadays, sports are nearly extinct. Martial arts are even rarer. And what is a Quirk, really?"
"It’s true—you hardly see anyone still practicing martial arts, and finding someone to teach them is even more challenging."
"I don’t even teach these days, so don’t get your hopes up. Mostly, it’s because you’re such an unusual brat that I even considered it. Honestly, I hadn’t planned on teaching you a thing."
"Huh? I wouldn’t dare tell you how to do things, Samat, but that sounds a bit unfair."
"Don’t get shocked, kid. When I said I wasn’t planning to teach, I meant that I wasn’t opposed to it now. I figured some kid had wandered in here trying to play the otaku."
"Ah. Right, an otaku..."
He laughed heartily before continuing.
"Even if our time is short, I'll make sure to teach you the essentials properly—so don’t worry. Besides, Muay Thai turned out far better than I expected. I had talent. In fact, to be brutally honest, I was a genius. I debuted at the age of ten, knocked out opponents my own age, and went on a winning streak ever since."
"Wow. Starting at ten… that’s extraordinary."
Listening to him, Kirishima couldn’t help but think that Muay Thai in this world was much the same as it had been in his previous life.
There had long been debates about whether very young children should participate in money matches, and although outsiders would criticize, for the children, it was a matter of survival.
"Not really. Back then, any kid aspiring to be a nak muay was already fighting by that age. Some even started earlier."
"That must have been a harsh world."
"It only seems harsh in retrospect. You say that because you grew up in a safe place. Honestly, even then, when you compared Thailand to the Middle East or Africa, it was nothing short of paradise."
"Well, that’s true."
"Anyway, I was doing quite well back then, winning match after match until I eventually became a Lumpinee champion."
"Lumpinee was Thailand’s largest arena at the time, wasn’t it?"
"Exactly. To be called the Lumpinee champion meant you were the world’s best Muay Thai fighter in your weight class. It was my golden age."
"A golden age…"
"Even now, when I close my eyes, I remember it vividly—the intense lights cascading from the ceiling, the familiar sound of whistles and drums across the ring, and the roar that shook the entire arena. Those were the moments I cherished."
"I can only imagine how incredible that must have been."
"It was. When I knocked an opponent to the ground, walked to the neutral corner, and took it all in with every fiber of my being, I felt like the king of that ring. I was a god in that moment."
Kirishima felt a kinship with Samat’s reverence for those memories, despite the blasphemous way he dismissed them.
He, too, had felt that surge of power.
When he had knocked down a ferocious attacker and surveyed the arena from above, he was not merely surviving—he was conquering, reigning supreme.
The kid once chased into the gutter and the young man left stranded with no one to lean on no longer existed in that moment.
There, on the ring, Kirishima was both conqueror and ruler.
In his past life, the memory of that exalted moment kept him returning to the ring time and again—even when he had amassed enough wealth to live luxuriously for generations.
Now, as a reincarnated soul enjoying a satisfying life, that old obsession had naturally faded.
Yet his desire to become the strongest still burned within him.
"For a time, it was wonderful—a pauper rising to become a champion, living large. But then war broke out. A full-blown civil war. The fragile peace between the civilian forces and the military, reluctantly held together by the royal family, shattered."
"That must have been incredibly difficult."
"It was. Every match was canceled, but that wasn’t the worst of it. When the civil war began, fighting erupted everywhere—bullets flying, and though the civilians were poorly armed, they fought back with their Quirks. It was utter chaos. I kept hoping that one day the fighting would end and peace would return. But then, forces attacked the royal palace, annihilating the royal family. That’s when I realized—if they could slaughter royalty without a second thought, someone like me wouldn’t be spared either."
"An age of chaos, indeed."
"Exactly. That’s when I decided to leave Thailand. I mulled over where to go, and back in my day, some seasoned nak muay had fought in Japan. They recommended the country—said it was good and clean."
"So that’s why you came here?"
"Right. I picked up a few words of Japanese and made my way here. Japan wasn’t as peaceful as I’d dreamed, but I was satisfied—at least the nation wasn’t split and consumed by bloodshed."
"I also heard you took down some Villains here?"
"Hm? How did you hear that? It’s not exactly something I go around boasting about."
Samat furrowed his brow as he replied.
Seeing his skepticism, Kirishima responded with mild confusion.
"A taxi driver mentioned on the way here that you’d cleaned up this entire area. He seemed pretty proud of you."
"Tch. I don’t know who he was. What’s there to boast about? Keeping the neighborhood clean is only natural. The locals lacked the strength, and I had it. It’s nothing more than that. Sure, it was technically against the law, but I’m not one to feel boastful—or ashamed—about doing what needed to be done."
"I see."
"Anyway, after coming to Japan, doing a bit of ‘cleaning,’ and somehow things falling into place, I ended up living in this large mansion. I even got married unexpectedly, had children, and now I have grandchildren. Tch. I suppose you must be tired of hearing an old man’s life story."
"Not at all—it was fascinating."
"Flattery aside, enough talk. You’re probably relaxed now, aren’t you? Let’s see what you’re capable of. You might be all muscle and no substance."
"Yes, though I’m more than just muscle."
"Hmph. I won’t believe it until I see it with my own eyes. And you said you taught yourself, right? Enough chatter—let’s go."
With a powerful voice, he rose from his seat.
Without missing a beat, Kirishima followed him as he opened the door and headed off.
Watching the straight, unwavering stride of the old hero, even at his advanced age, Kirishima’s anticipation swelled.
Though his build was not large, the intensity radiating from his proud posture was unmistakable.
It was the resolute back of a true hero of yesteryear.
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