They say when you're dying, your life flashes before your eyes. This is true, even for the blind. 

I can hear the crowd roaring, the ground trembling beneath my feet as they stomp theirs in excitement. My face burns with the sting of leather and my brain feels as if it were turned into slush as it bounces off the walls inside my skull. 

Getting hit like this has always been my least favorite part of boxing; feeling my legs giving out and my body shutting down. 

The thing is, it doesn't matter how hard I get hit, I always get back up. Well, almost always. 

As my body gravitates toward the mat, I feel myself barely clinging to consciousness. As my mind drifts, I can't help but think about my past; my journey to becoming what I am today...

My name is Armin Justice.

When I was around three years old, my eyesight started to deteriorate. By the time I was five years old, my eyesight had completely diminished.

Though I lost my eyesight, I wasn't really blind. Perhaps it was due to losing my eyesight at such a young age or maybe it was just a miracle, but I could see in ways that others could not using my other four senses.

My father was a boxer, it's how he met my mother when they were both fresh out of high school. Her father was his trainer and she'd come to watch them practice every night.

She always told me she hated boxing; truly despised it before she met my father. However, when she saw my father box, she said it was like watching a dance.

His swift movements.

His precise attacks.

It made her fall for him before they even said a word to each other. From the moment she fell in love, she was always in his corner. It wasn't long before her love for him was noticed and reciprocated.

They were only together for a few months before my mother was pregnant with me, and a few months later they were married.

Once I was old enough to watch him fight, my mother and I were both in his corner.

Until the very end.

They called him Lawrence "the Judge" Justice. Let me tell you, he was a bad man. We thought he couldn't be beaten.

As a child, I'd watch his matches with my mother. That's how I fell in love with boxing. There was something about two men facing each other in a ring, going all out to reign victorious over the other that captivated me.

When I lost my sight, I thought my days of watching boxing were over. However, thanks to my gifts, I was able to watch the game more efficiently than I ever could.

See, my eyes were nothing more than a distraction. I'd pay attention to the wrong things, the things that casual spectators took note of. When I lost my sight, I began to pay attention to the little things; those micro-moments that determined what sort of match it was going to be.

Based on the sounds of their feet hitting the mat and they way they'd shift their weight, I could read their stance and imagine their precise location in the ring.

I could hear their harsh breaths and the sweat dripping from their bodies, being able to tell which man was on the brink of defeat.

I could smell and sometimes even taste the blood in the air. I could hear bones breaking and their hearts racing!

I could even hear the moment my father's heart stopped.

I was only ten years old. Lance "the Executioner" Stone was the man who took my father's life, hitting him in the back of the head with a right hook. It was an illegal move, and they say it was an accident but I know the truth.

When my father hit the mat, I knew he was already gone. Everyone rushed to the ring; everyone but me. I just stood in place, facing the man who killed my father.

I could sense his heartbeat. It seemed… off. It didn't feel like the heartbeat of a man who accidentally took the life of someone innocent. It was the heartbeat of a man who was living life as if it were just another Tuesday night.

Looking back with the knowledge I have now, I know it was the heartbeat of a killer who's killed before. The heartbeat of a murderer; one who enjoyed killing.

I may be blind, but I know his gaze was locked on me. It was as if he was telling me, "Come and get me". Though I imagine a world-class boxer wouldn't expect a blind boy to seek revenge on him.

Perhaps his challenging gaze was all in my head, nonetheless, my mind was already made up.

I was going to kill him in the ring just like how he killed my father.

I still remember my father's funeral as if it were yesterday.

The stench of rain.

The sounds of our loved ones weeping over his casket.

The feeling of his cold hands on his lifeless body.

The taste of my own tears.

As the casket was lowered, I stood next to my grandfather who didn't even shed a single tear. It wasn't because he didn't have love for my father; it was quite the contrary. My father was like a son to him. Nonetheless, my grandfather was too tough to cry.

"Grandpa. I want to become a boxer." I told him. I knew out of everyone, my grandfather would understand. He knew about my ability to see without eyes, he even joked about me boxing in the past. This time, however, it wasn't a laughing matter.

"After watching what happened to your father, you're tellin' me you wanna box?"

"That's why I wanna box. I want to beat the Executioner."

My grandfather smiled, I could hear it in his voice. It was faint, but the way he exhaled humorously made it all the more obvious. "You're just like him, you know that?"

I could hear my grandfather looking around, making sure my mother couldn't hear us. She of all people would be against it.

My grandfather quickly sent an elbow toward my body and I caught it with the palm of my hand before it could even come close.

He exhaled with a smile once again after testing my reflexes. Like I said, he knew how well I could see.

"You sure you're blind?" He asked me, chuckling through his old raspy voice. He had a theory that I was just messing with everyone, pretending I couldn't see for the fun of it.

"My eyes don't work but I'm not blind, Grandpa. So can I box or not?"

"You may box, yes. Whether you can or not is to be determined. We'll start tomorrow."

"Tonight." I told him. I was eager to start as soon as possible. I didn't want to waste not even a single day of my life not getting stronger."

"Alright, Armin. Tonight."

And so, from that day forward, the day of my father's funeral was the day I dedicated my life to the ring.