In the western world, Japan is often looked at as a portal into the future.

Its technology always seems to be a generation ahead, fashion already a season or two in advance, cuisine a menagerie of flavors not yet appropriated elsewhere. When it comes to boxing, many elements of Japan's fistic culture are almost idyllic versions of how we would want the sport and its practitioners to be globally.

The structure of boxing in Japan is rooted in three things: Tradition, fairness and ambition. Many boxers come up through a scholastic system, boxing in high school and college while pursuing broader national and sometimes international glory as an amateur. Quite often, the same gyms that develop these fighters as amateurs are the ones that guide them as professionals promotionally as well, keeping a chain of continuity, but also a familial atmosphere in the training centers similar to martial arts dojos.

To enter the pros, novice fighters are given a graded license based on their abilities displayed in a trial sparring session in front of commission members. Only two fighters in history have ever been given Class A licenses — that is to say, the agency to debut in an eight-rounder — right out of the gate, and amazingly, they were not even the two fighters at the center of this article.

After receiving their grade, many Japanese fighters compete in the Rookie of the Year tournament, a structure which places the country's top prospects in an elimination format tournament right out of the gate — one in which Nakatani was victorious. Others hop right into the hotly contested domestic title scene, such as Inoue, who defeated future world champion Ryoichi Taguchi in his fourth professional fight for national gold.

Tough matchmaking and ambitious scheduling are the baseline set for fighters in Japan from the earliest days. It is from this soil that Inoue and Nakatani grew, and as such, it is no surprise that they have conducted themselves the same way throughout their careers.

Simply put, Inoue and Nakatani have done everything that could have reasonably been asked of them by fans and the industry at large — and more.

Even before they step in the ring on Saturday at Tokyo Dome, Inoue and Nakatani have resumes landing them in the International Boxing Hall of Fame. Inoue will be elected on the first ballot the second he retires.

Nakatani likely will, too, depending on the induction year, but can safely predict a plaque with his face on it hanging in Canastota, New York, regardless. Yet, despite having won world titles in seven weight classes combined and achieving superstar status, the two have carried themselves with an air of dissatisfaction over the last two years.

Regardless of how much they accomplished, each had one particular dragon to slay in one another. Often times, fights determined to be "legacy-defining" are given that label by critics who threaten to hinge their evaluation of a fighter based on their performance on a given night. In this case, it is the fighters themselves who seem to feel this way.

For some time, it has been clear the two would have to fight. In fact, the two never sparred one another, at least in Nakatani's case, expressly because he didn't want to give his personal White Whale any added scouting information. Nakatani even changed his nickname to "Big Bang," a wink-and-nod allusion to Inoue's "Monster" nickname, suggesting that he would be the one to render the current ruler extinct and begin a new era.

The odyssey to fight night, and even the year-long build in earnest that was formalized in December in Riyadh when they competed in separate bouts, never contained any of the "will they, won't they?" elements that many of today's big fights tend to have.

Neither ever suggested they didn't need one another, make lofty financial demands, or any of the other posturing tools fighters use to declare popularity and superiority over their opponents. At worst, they would appear ringside at one another's fights, looking stern, but speaking respectfully of one another.

When it came time to finally fight, despite the matchup garnering international attention and the constant refrain that boxing stars "have" to fight in the United States, Inoue and Nakatani stayed true to their roots.

First and foremost, this is a fight for the Japanese gaze, as the 55,000 or so expected spectators illustrate. It's a fight that could have sold out anywhere, but needed to be at Tokyo Dome, where the biggest fight in Japanese boxing history belongs.

Inoue and Nakatani have been model citizens throughout their careers, adhering to even the loftiest of demands from the most fickle fans and passing the most stringent of purity tests. They have challenged themselves in terms of opposition from their earliest days, and have asked more of their bodies to move up in weight pursuing new challenges.

They have repeatedly promised knockouts prior to their fights, and more often than not, have delivered. In the instances in which they didn't, they unnecessarily apologized, as Inoue did in the ring following his dominant decision win over Alan Picasso. They have each remained loyal to trainers, promoters, managers and their home gyms, never straying from the foundations they were built upon.

Very few things in boxing can be described as pure and good, just as very few fights can be truthfully described as guaranteed action. This fight, and these two fighters are the exception, just as they have always been.