Chapter 5: The Cage of Echoes
The night air was cold and sharp, a stark contrast to the warmth of the dojo. Lee walked beside his sensei, his breath misting in front of him. Sora Aokawa moved with a silent, purposeful stride, her gaze fixed forward, navigating the labyrinthine back alleys of the city as if she had been born in them. Lee, however, felt as though every shadow held a pair of watching eyes. The towering apartment buildings on either side seemed to lean in, their darkened windows like hollow sockets in concrete skulls. This was not the heroic world of daylight patrols he had imagined. This felt… illicit.
"Where are we going, Sensei?" he finally asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, unwilling to disturb the oppressive quiet.
"To a place where strength is tested without pretense," she answered, not looking at him. "A place where Quirks and fists do the talking, and reputations don't matter. It is a harsh classroom, Lee. But it is the one you need most."
Their destination was a dead-end street, ending in a featureless, graffiti-covered steel door set into the foundation of a crumbling tenement building. Standing before it was a man. He was large and thickset, with a weary face and the hardened eyes of someone who had seen too much and was impressed by nothing. He wore a simple jacket and jeans, but he held himself with the unshakeable stillness of a boulder.
Sora stopped a few feet from him. The man's gaze flickered to her, then dropped to Lee, a faint, cynical smirk touching his lips.
"He's young, Sora," the guard rumbled, his voice like gravel scraping against stone. "This ain't a place for kids trying to prove something."
"He is not here to prove anything," Sora replied, her tone cool and even. "He is here to learn. To experience a real fight."
The guard grunted, a humorless sound. He looked Lee up and down, taking in his lean frame, his wide, nervous eyes. "A real fight here can end a lot of things. His age is his problem, not mine. If he gets broken, we just sweep him out with the rest of the trash. It's not our fault if he dies."
Lee felt a chill crawl up his spine that had nothing to do with the cold night air. Dies? The word hung between them, brutal and real. He had faced pain, exhaustion, and the limits of his own body. He had never faced the genuine possibility of his own end.
Sora placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "He will be fine." She looked at the guard. "Is there a spot on the card tonight?"
The man shrugged, pulling the heavy steel door open. "Always a spot for fresh meat."
The moment the door opened, a wall of sound and heat washed over them. It was a chaotic wave of roaring voices, the smell of stale sweat, cheap alcohol, and something metallic and sharp that made Lee's nose tingle. They descended a steep, narrow concrete staircase, the walls damp and cold to the touch. With every step down, the roar of the crowd grew louder, echoing in the enclosed space until it felt like it was vibrating in his bones.
Lee's heart hammered against his ribs. He could hear individual shouts now, jeers and bets being called out. This was real. He glanced at Sora, his face pale in the dim light of the single bare bulb illuminating the stairwell.
"Sensei… I…" he began, his voice trembling slightly. "I am not sure about this."
Sora stopped and turned to face him fully. Her blue eyes, even in the poor light, were sharp and clear. "Listen to me, Lee. Fear is a tool. It tells you that you are alive. It keeps you sharp. Do not let it become your master. The men down there, they rely on brute strength, cheap tricks, and the Quirks they were born with. You," she said, poking a firm finger into his chest, "rely on four years of relentless, agonizing, perfect training. You have forged your body into something they cannot comprehend. Trust your training. Trust me. Believe me when I tell you this: you are stronger than every single person in this room."
Her words were a lifeline in a sea of his own anxiety. He took a deep breath, the damp, musty air filling his lungs, and nodded. His fear was still there, a cold knot in his stomach, but her faith in him was a small, warm flame beside it.
They reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the main chamber. It was a vast, subterranean space, likely a forgotten basement or abandoned subway station. The air was thick with smoke, and the low ceiling was crisscrossed with pipes. In the center of it all was a large, chain-link cage, illuminated by harsh, flickering floodlights from above. Surrounding the cage was a mob of people, a writhing mass of faces contorted in expressions of greed, bloodlust, and desperate excitement.
Sora guided him through the throng, her presence creating a small, parting wake. They ignored the leering looks and muttered comments aimed at Lee.
"Look at the little guy. Did he get lost on his way home from school?"
"Sora, you robbing the cradle for fighters now?"
"I'll give you fifty-to-one odds the kid doesn't last thirty seconds!"
Sora walked straight to a makeshift table where a man with a scarred face was taking names. "One fight," she said, placing a few bills on the table. "Rock Lee."
The man grunted and scribbled the name down on a list without looking up.
They found a spot on a rickety set of bleachers, giving them a clear view of the cage. A fight was already in progress. A man with a Quirk that let him shoot sharp, bony projectiles from his knuckles was facing a hulking woman with rubbery, impact-absorbing skin. It was savage. There were no rules, no referee to stop the fight. It ended only when the man with the bone-Quirk was knocked unconscious, his face a bloody mess. The crowd roared its approval as the woman raised her arms in victory.
Lee swallowed hard, his hands slick with sweat. This was what he had to face.
They sat for what felt like an eternity, watching two more brutal bouts. Lee studied each fighter, analyzing their movements, their Quirks, their weaknesses, just as Sora had taught him. But his analytical mind was battling a rising tide of panic.
Then, a harsh, amplified voice crackled through a poor-quality speaker. "In this corner, weighing in at eighty-five kilograms, a brawler with a fist that hits like a freight train, give it up for… Kento 'The Wall' Tanaka!"
A large, muscular young man who couldn't have been more than eighteen swaggered into the cage. He had a brutish face and an arrogant smirk. He flexed his biceps for the cheering crowd.
"And in the other corner," the announcer's voice was dripping with sarcasm, "a new challenger… Rock Lee!"
A wave of laughter rippled through the audience. The name sounded so plain, so childish compared to 'The Wall'. Lee stood up on trembling legs. Sora placed a hand on his back.
"Remember," she said, her voice a low anchor in the storm of noise. "Control your breathing. See everything. You are ready."
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He walked the lonely path to the cage, the jeers and laughter of the crowd like physical blows. The cage door clanged shut behind him, the sound sealing him in.
Across from him, Kento cracked his neck, his smirk widening. "They're really letting kids play with the adults now, huh? Don't worry, I'll make this quick. You can go cry to your mommy after."
Lee ignored him, falling into his basic fighting stance, just as he had done a hundred thousand times in the safety of the dojo. His heart was a wild drum in his chest. The lights were blinding. The noise was deafening. But through it all, he saw his opponent. He saw the cage. He saw the path before him. The bell, a harsh, ugly clang, rang through the chamber. The fight had begun.
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