Chapter 3: The Price of a Promise.
The next two years were measured not in days or weeks, but in buckets of sweat, meters of bandages, and the relentless, echoing rhythm of fists meeting wood. The dojo, once a silent, empty hall, became a crucible. Rock Lee, age ten, learned the true meaning of pain.
In the beginning, his body was a traitor. It screamed and wept and begged for mercy that his sensei, Sora Aokawa, refused to grant. The first time she told him to do five hundred push-ups, he had laughed, thinking it was a joke. It was not. He managed seven before his arms gave out, his cheek pressed against the cold, unforgiving floor.
"Again, Lee," she had said, her voice impassive.
He had pushed himself up, his arms trembling violently, and managed three more before collapsing again, this time with tears of frustration blurring his vision.
"Again."
That first month was a blur of failure. He would run until his lungs burned like they were filled with hot coals and his legs turned to lead, only to be told to run another lap. He would practice a single, basic punch for six hours straight, his knuckles splitting and bleeding, only for Sora to point out a fractional flaw in the rotation of his hip. Every evening, he would limp home, his body a symphony of aches, and collapse into bed, wondering if he would be able to move the next morning. But every morning, before the sun had even risen, he was back at the dojo's entrance, his eyes filled with a fiery, stubborn resolve that impressed Sora more than any feat of strength.
By the time he was eleven, the pain had not vanished, but it had changed. It was no longer a foreign invader but a familiar companion, a teacher in its own right. His body, once a betrayer, was slowly becoming an ally. The push-ups were still difficult, but he could complete all five hundred. His runs became longer, faster. His punches and kicks, once clumsy and weak, now snapped through the air with a sharp thwack.
Their relationship changed, too. Sora was no less demanding, her critiques no less sharp, but moments of quiet companionship began to stitch themselves into the fabric of their days. After a grueling session, she would sometimes wordlessly hand him a bottle of water and a warm towel. They would sit together on the edge of the dojo's porch, eating simple rice balls while watching the seasons change. They rarely spoke of his Quirklessness anymore. In the world contained within the dojo's walls, the word had no meaning. There was only effort, and result.
Now, at twelve, Lee was transformed. The soft roundness of childhood had been burned away, replaced by the lean, hard lines of a disciplined martial artist. His hands were calloused, his gaze was steady, and he moved with a quiet confidence that was worlds away from the weeping boy who had collapsed on the floor. He had grown strong. But one evening, he learned there was a difference between being strong, and being strong enough.
He was watching the evening news with his parents. The screen erupted with the chaotic scene of a villain attack downtown. A monstrous creature with a Quirk that turned its skin into crystalline armor was rampaging through the streets. The ground shook with its steps. Then, a hero landed. It was the Number 5 Pro Hero, Mirko. She was a blur of motion, her powerful Rabbit Quirk allowing her to ricochet off buildings, her kicks landing with the force of small explosions. The crystal armor of the villain, which had shrugged off police fire, shattered like glass under her assault. The fight was over in less than a minute.
Lee stared at the screen, a cold knot forming in his stomach. He had just spent ten hours at the dojo, pushing his body to its absolute limit. He felt powerful. But what he saw on that screen was a different magnitude of power entirely. It was a force of nature.
The next day, he asked the question that had been haunting him. "Sensei," he said, his voice quiet as they cooled down after training. "I am stronger. I know I am. But… I saw Mirko on the news. The way she moved, her power… how can I ever fight something like that? With just this?" He held up his calloused hands, which suddenly felt small and inadequate.
Sora looked at him, her blue eyes thoughtful. She saw the genuine, practical doubt in his eyes. This wasn't the despair of a child; it was the logical fear of a warrior assessing an impossibly strong opponent. She decided he was ready.
"Sit," she commanded, gesturing to the center of the floor.
When he was seated, she sat opposite him, her posture perfect. "Lee, your body, every human body, is filled with an incredible power that it keeps locked away. There are limiters, natural safeguards put in place by the brain to prevent us from tearing ourselves apart with our own strength. If you've ever lifted something impossibly heavy in a moment of panic, you have felt the edge of that power."
She leaned forward, her voice dropping. "There is an ancient, forbidden Taijutsu art. A technique so dangerous that most who know of it refuse to teach it. It is called Hachimon… The Eight Inner Gates."
Lee's eyes widened.
"These gates," Sora continued, "are specific points in the body's energy pathway. To open them is to forcibly remove the body's natural limiters, unleashing a torrent of power far beyond normal human capabilities. But it comes at a tremendous cost."
She held up one finger. "The First Gate, the Gate of Opening, located in the brain. It removes the mind's restraint on the muscles, allowing you to use one hundred percent of your strength, instead of the usual twenty percent."
A second finger. "The Second Gate, the Gate of Healing. It forcibly re-energizes the body, but leaves you exhausted."
A third. "The Third Gate, the Gate of Life. It pushes your nervous system into overdrive. The energy released is so great, your skin will turn red."
She paused, her gaze intense. "And the Fourth Gate, the Gate of Pain. This is where the true cost begins. When you open this gate, your muscles will begin to tear themselves apart from the sheer force of your movements."
Lee was speechless, his mind reeling. A Quirk. It was like having a Quirk, but one you had to earn through sheer will, one that fought you back with every use.
"Most people would be destroyed by this power," Sora said, her voice firm. "Their will is too weak. Their discipline is lacking. But you, Lee… your will is the strongest I have ever encountered. Your body has been forged in a way that no Quirk user's ever has. I believe you can handle the price."
She looked at him, a proud, fierce light in her eyes. "The U.A. High entrance exam is in three years. It is my belief that before that day comes, I can teach you to safely open and control the first four gates."
The name hit him like a physical shock. U.A. High. The most prestigious, the most famous, the most impossible hero academy in the entire country. The school of All Might. It was a holy place, a sanctuary for the gifted and the powerful.
"U.A.?" he whispered, the name feeling foreign and too large for his mouth. "Sensei… you think that I… that someone like me… could ever go to a place like that?"
Sora Aokawa smiled. It was not the challenging grin she'd worn the day they met, but a smile of absolute, unwavering faith.
"Lee," she said, her voice ringing with conviction. "We are not aiming to just go to U.A. We are aiming to stand on their stage and show the entire world what a hero with an unbreakable will, and no Quirk, can truly do."
The fear in Lee's chest was still there, but now it was overwhelmed by something else, something wild and exhilarating. For the first time, the dream was not just a vague wish. It had a name. It had a path. And it had a price. He was willing to pay it.
.
.
.
.
More Chapters;
Pat reon. com/Salamandar