Naoya Inoue is a monster. He has torn through divisions with a violence that looks effortless. He has become undisputed at 118, undisputed at 122, and, in the eyes of many, the most complete offensive fighter alive. Some even placed him, at times, above Terence Crawford on the pound-for-pound list.
But there is a difference between domination and transcendence. Crawford showed us that. He didn’t just conquer his weight class; he left it behind, jumped two divisions, and dismantled the sport’s biggest star. That leap turned him from great to immortal.
For Inoue, the question is simple. To sit at Crawford’s pound-for-pound table, he must do the same. He must leave comfort behind, climb into danger, and find his giant. That giant exists. That giant has a name: Gervonta “Tank” Davis.
Inoue’s path so far has been destruction. At flyweight, he was too sharp. At super flyweight, too strong. At bantamweight, he unified everything and made it look easy. At super bantamweight, he repeated the same, cutting through champions like Fulton and Tapales with clinical precision.
He has mastered every puzzle in front of him. His timing is perfect, his punch placement merciless, his composure unshakable. Within his world, he has no rival. But all of it, as brilliant as it is, remains within his size. Within his element.
Crawford broke that mold. He showed that true greatness is measured not by how you dominate your peers, but by how you fare when the odds turn against you. He jumped from welterweight to super middleweight, gave up every physical and contractual advantage, and still dismantled Canelo Álvarez, the face of boxing. That is the leap into legend.
For Inoue to replicate that, he must leave 122 behind. He must skip past featherweight, past super featherweight, and climb straight to lightweight. There he will find Tank Davis, the division’s box-office king, the puncher who makes crowds roar and networks bend.
That is Inoue’s Canelo. A bigger man, a global star, a fighter with knockout power in either hand. To beat Tank would not be to win another belt — it would be to seize another dimension of greatness. It would be to prove that his skills are not bound by size or comfort.
Some will say Inoue has already done enough — that two undisputed reigns across two divisions, and four weight classes conquered, is history in itself. They are not wrong. But history has levels. Crawford wrote it in ink no one can erase. Inoue, if he wants to sit at the same table, must write his chapter in the same script.
Greatness demands a giant. Crawford found his in Canelo. For Inoue, he must replicate what Bud did — because from now on, to reach the top of the pound-for-pound list, one must climb Mount Omaha. The mountain he must face has a name: Gervonta Davis. History is watching.