The sun had barely crested the horizon when Hiro's eyes snapped open. Sleep had been shallow; dreams of his past life's fights and the thundering applause of the MMA arena still echoed in his head. But when he tried to cling to those memories, they scattered like sand between his fingers.This was his reality now Konoha, the world of chakra, shinobi, and dangers that no referee could stop.
He rolled off the thin futon in his modest apartment and immediately began stretching, his movements precise and methodical. This was not just to loosen muscles; it was the first step in conditioning his body for what he had in mind. The limits of a human body here could be pushed far beyond what he had achieved in the octagon.
Hachimon Tonkō the Eight Gates still burned in his mind. It was a forbidden technique, not because it was impossible to learn, but because it destroyed the user from the inside. To Hiro, it wasn't forbidden it was a challenge.
"Gate One: Open… I'll get there," he muttered under his breath as he pushed into a deep horse stance.
But he knew brute repetition wouldn't be enough. This world's martial potential was far greater than in his old life, and if he wanted to master every form of taijutsu that focused on the body, he would need to think like the fighter he was and like a shinobi.
By midday, he had found himself at the training field. Sweat poured from him in thick beads as he drilled explosive sprints, short-distance bursts that mimicked the speed of shinobi body flickers. His breathing followed patterns from his MMA days, adapted to mimic what he had seen in Gai's future fighting style from what he remembered.
He slammed his fists into a wooden training post thud-thud-thud his knuckles burning. He wasn't focusing on power yet. This was about impact economy: learning to release all stored energy in a fraction of a second.
"Hey, new guy!"
Hiro turned to see a group of younger academy students gawking at him. One of them, a brash boy with messy hair, grinned. "You're weird. You're not using chakra at all, are you?"
"No," Hiro said plainly, wiping sweat from his brow. "You don't need chakra to break someone."
The boy laughed, clearly thinking it was a joke, but Hiro didn't smile.
That evening, he found himself in the Konoha library, sifting through scrolls and old records. Most shinobi skipped these unless assigned a mission report, but Hiro searched for every scrap of taijutsu documentation. He came across mentions of:
Konoha Senpū (Leaf Whirlwind) – A rapid spinning kick technique.
Konoha Shōfū (Leaf Rising Wind) – An upward kick, excellent for disrupting enemy balance.
Kumo-ryū Kenpō – Cloud-style boxing, focused on continuous flow and misdirection.
Suiryūken – Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist, emphasizing redirection of force.
And, buried in a forbidden scroll index Hachimon Tonkō.
The last one was locked away under high restriction, but he memorized the vague description. Eight internal "gates" that could be opened to forcibly release the body's limiters.
He smiled faintly. "That's what I'm after."
Over the next few days, his schedule hardened into something brutal:
Dawn: Long-distance sprints and dynamic stretching.
Morning: Impact training kicks, punches, elbows, knees on weighted dummies.
Afternoon: Strength work using improvised resistance carrying logs, climbing ropes, pushing stone slabs.
Evening: Breath control, meditation, and chakra flow experiments.
Even though he wasn't focusing on ninjutsu, he needed to understand chakra enough to integrate it into his movements. If chakra could amplify a punch, then so could the principles of torque, timing, and weight shift he had mastered as an MMA fighter.
One night, after a grueling set of squat jumps, Hiro collapsed onto the training ground dirt. His body screamed at him to stop. The old familiar sensation of overtraining tugged at him exactly the sensation that had killed him once before.
And yet, his eyes narrowed."If I could go past my limits there… then here, I'll go beyond them."
Two weeks into this regime, Hiro noticed something. The villagers had begun to watch. Some out of curiosity, some out of doubt, some with quiet respect. Word spread that a strange young man trained like a madman, ignoring chakra techniques and yet improving at a frightening pace.
It wasn't long before a familiar figure approached him during one of his late-night sessions a tall, lean shinobi with a confident smile and unmistakable blond hair.
"You've got spirit," Minato Namikaze said, hands in his pockets. "But if you keep pushing your body like that, you'll tear yourself apart."
Hiro met his gaze. "Good. That means I'm getting closer."
Minato chuckled lightly, but there was a sharpness in his eyes. "You're chasing something dangerous, aren't you?"
Hiro didn't answer directly. "I'm chasing strength. The kind that doesn't need a second chance."
In that moment, Hiro understood something critical: he had just gained Minato's attention. And in this world, that could mean opportunity… or trouble.