Chapter 6: The Weight of Four Years
Kento moved with a speed that betrayed his bulky frame. He charged forward, a human battering ram, his fist drawn back. Lee reacted on pure instinct, his body moving a fraction of a second before his mind had consciously given the command. He sidestepped, letting the larger man's punch whistle past his ear with enough force to stir his hair.
But Kento was not just a brute. He pivoted smoothly, his other fist swinging around in a brutal hook. Lee raised his arms to block, the impact jarring him down to his bones. It was like being hit by a slab of concrete. He staggered back, his arms throbbing. The crowd roared with delight.
"What's wrong, little boy?" Kento taunted, advancing on him. "Can't handle a love tap?"
Lee grit his teeth and launched his own counter-attack. A lightning-fast series of kicks, aimed at Kento's legs and torso. It was a combination he had perfected, one that would leave any normal opponent winded and bruised. But Kento just grunted, taking the blows as if they were little more than annoying insect bites. Lee felt a jolt of shock; it was like kicking a stone wall.
"My turn," Kento growled. He lunged, and this time he was too fast. He grabbed the front of Lee's simple training gi, lifted him effortlessly off his feet, and slammed him into the chain-link fence.
The impact drove the air from Lee's lungs in a pained gasp. The metal links dug into his back. Before he could recover, Kento's fist crashed into his stomach. Pain, white-hot and blinding, exploded behind Lee's eyes. He slumped down, his body sliding down the fence to the canvas floor.
The laughter from the crowd was a tidal wave of scorn. He could hear their insults, their mocking calls. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees, coughing, trying to draw a breath. He looked towards the bleachers, trying to find Sora's face in the sea of jeering strangers. He saw her, saw her mouth moving, shouting instructions, encouragement, but her voice was completely swallowed by the din. He was alone.
Is this it? a voice of doubt whispered in his mind. Is this the limit? After all that work… am I still not strong enough?
He felt a foot connect with his ribs, sending him rolling across the canvas. He lay on his back, the bright, harsh lights swimming above him. Humiliation washed over him, colder and more painful than any physical blow. He had failed her. He had failed himself.
And then, through the pain and the noise, something else rose up. A memory. The burn of his muscles after the first thousand kicks. The taste of blood in his mouth after sparring with Sora. The weight of her quiet, unwavering belief in him. The promise he made, not with words, but with a deep bow on a polished wooden floor four years ago. I will forge you into a hero.
This cage was not his end. It was just another classroom.
With a surge of adrenaline, Lee rolled to his feet. He was unsteady, his body screaming in protest, but his eyes were clear. The fear was gone, burned away by a cold, hard resolve.
Kento laughed. "Still want more? I admire the spirit, kid. But it's time to go to sleep."
Lee didn't answer. Instead, he calmly reached down to his right ankle. His fingers, deft and practiced, began to unwind the thick layers of white bandages. The crowd quieted slightly, a murmur of confusion rippling through the venue. What was he doing? Giving up?
He finished with the right ankle, then the left. Then he moved to his wrists, unwinding the bandages there with the same meticulous care. Kento watched him, an amused and puzzled look on his face.
Finally, the last of the bandages came away. Underneath, clamped tightly to his skin, were simple, dark grey weights. They looked unimpressive, like plain iron shackles. With a quiet click, he unfastened the first one from his ankle. And he let it drop.
THUD.
The sound was shockingly loud. It was not the light clatter of simple metal; it was a deep, resonant, floor-shaking impact, as if a block of solid lead had been dropped. The canvas of the ring visibly dented. A hush fell over the crowd. Lee unfastened the other three, and each one landed with the same impossible, definitive weight. THUD. THUD. THUD.
Kento stared at the four simple weights lying on the floor. His arrogant smirk faltered, replaced by disbelief. "What's the point of taking off those simple iron weights?" he scoffed, trying to regain his composure. "Trying to scare me?"
To prove his point, he bent down, intending to casually pick one up and toss it aside. He wrapped his large hand around one of the ankle weights. He pulled.
Nothing happened.
He gritted his teeth, his smirk vanishing completely. He pulled again, his bicep bulging, the veins in his neck standing out. The weight didn't budge. His eyes widened in horrified shock. He couldn't lift it. He couldn't even make it slide across the canvas.
A ghost of a smile touched Sora's lips as she watched from the stands.
Flashback. A year and a half ago. A thirteen-year-old Lee stared at the weights in Sora's hands.
"Sensei, this is impossible!" he had protested, his voice cracking. "I can barely walk! How am I supposed to train with these on?"
Sora had simply clamped one onto his ankle. The sheer, unexpected heaviness had buckled his leg, sending him to one knee. "Your body will complain," she had said, her voice firm, leaving no room for argument. "Then, it will adapt. And then, it will grow stronger. The pain will be your guide. Trust the process, Lee. Trust me."
Back in the present, Lee slowly rolled his neck and his shoulders. A sigh of pure relief escaped his lips. The feeling was intoxicating. It was like he had been walking at the bottom of the ocean his entire life and had suddenly burst forth into the open air. He felt light. He felt free. He felt… fast.
"Let's try this again," Lee said, his voice quiet but carrying through the stunned silence of the arena.
He vanished.
To Kento, it was as if Lee had simply ceased to exist in front of him. One moment he was there, the next, a blur of green and black shot past him. An instant later, a devastating blow connected with the back of his knee, buckling it with an audible crack. Before Kento could even process the pain, another strike, hard as steel, slammed into his side, cracking a rib.
The world slowed down for Lee. Kento, who had seemed so fast and powerful moments before, now looked like he was moving through molasses. He could see every twitch of his opponent's muscles, every flicker of panic in his eyes.
Lee moved around him, a whirlwind of precise, controlled violence. A kick to the temple. A palm-heel strike to the chin. An elbow to the solar plexus. It wasn't a brawl anymore. It was a deconstruction.
The final blow was a simple, powerful roundhouse kick. It connected with the side of Kento's head with a sickening thud. His eyes rolled back into his head, and 'The Wall' crashed to the canvas, unconscious before he even landed.
Silence.
The entire arena, all the gamblers and thugs and thrill-seekers, was utterly, completely silent. They stared at the small, unassuming boy standing over the fallen giant, his chest rising and falling steadily. Then, the silence was broken. Not by cheers or boos, but by a single, disbelieving whisper that was quickly picked up by others. "What was that?"
Lee stood victorious, his body aching but his spirit soaring. He had done it.
Suddenly, a new sound cut through the air, high-pitched and urgent. Sirens. They were faint at first, then grew rapidly louder, coming from all directions. Panic erupted in the crowd. Shouts of "Cops!" and "Heroes!" filled the air as people scrambled for the exits.
Red and blue lights flashed down the stairwell. The exits were blocked. Pro Heroes, their silhouettes framed by the flashing lights, stood at the top of the stairs, their presence radiating an authority that dwarfed everyone in the room.
"Damn it!" Sora swore under her breath from the bleachers. She vaulted over the railing, her face a mask of urgent concern. She rushed towards the cage, intending to grab Lee and disappear into the chaos.
But it was too late. Police officers swarmed into the chamber, quickly and efficiently subduing the panicking crowd. Just as Sora reached the cage door, a firm hand landed on her shoulder.
"That's far enough," a stern voice said.
Sora froze, turning to see a police officer, his expression grim. Across the room, another officer was opening the cage door, approaching her victorious, and now very incriminated, student. They were caught.
.
.
.