Chapter 8: The Gates of U.A.
The train rattled rhythmically along the tracks, the twenty-kilometer journey to the U.A. campus feeling like a pilgrimage. Lee sat by the window, watching the familiar landscape of his city blur into a past he was trying to outrun. The tense silence of the car ride home from the police station, the fragile agreement hanging in the air, felt like a heavy cloak on his shoulders. He could still feel his mother's trembling hug at the door, a hug that felt both like a blessing and a desperate plea for him to stay safe.
He looked at his reflection in the window. The bruises on his face had faded to a sickly yellow-green, a visible reminder of the cage. But the memory of the fight, of overcoming his fear, of the impossible lightness after dropping the weights—that was a fire inside him now, a quiet, steady warmth. He had faced a real fight and won. Sora's lesson had been brutal, but it had been necessary. He was no longer just a student of the dojo. He was a fighter.
The train slowed, and a robotic voice announced the stop for U.A. High. Lee's heart began to beat a little faster. He joined the river of other teenagers pouring out of the station, a diverse and energetic crowd of hopefuls. They were all chattering excitedly, their faces a mixture of nerves and confidence. Some were subtly showing off their Quirks—a girl with long, vine-like hair, a boy whose skin had a faint, rocky texture. Lee clutched the straps of his backpack, a silent, Quirkless island in a sea of genetic miracles.
And then he saw it.
It rose up before them, a monument to heroism and hope. U.A. High was not just a school; it was a fortress. Two colossal, H-shaped towers of gleaming blue glass and white steel soared into the sky, so tall they seemed to hold the heavens up. The scale of it was breathtaking, designed to inspire awe and make one feel impossibly small. For a moment, Lee felt a familiar pang of inadequacy. What was he, a boy with nothing but his fists and his will, doing at the gates of such a place?
He took a deep breath, picturing Sora's confident smile. "We are not aiming to just go to U.A. We are aiming to show them what a true hero… can truly do." His resolve hardened. He walked through the main gates, his steps firm.
He followed the crowd into a massive auditorium, so large it could have hosted a major concert. He found a seat and looked around, absorbing everything. The air was electric with anticipation. A few rows ahead, he saw a girl with vibrant pink skin talking animatedly with a boy who had spiky red hair. Not far from them, a boy with an explosive nest of ash-blond hair was slumped in his seat, his feet up, an arrogant, bored scowl on his face. He radiated a dangerous energy that made others give him a wide berth.
Suddenly, the lights dimmed and a single spotlight hit the stage.
"HELLOOOOOO, EVERYBODY! WELCOME TO THE BIG SHOW!" a voice boomed through the speakers, so loud it made Lee's teeth vibrate.
A tall, lanky man with a huge plume of blond hair, wearing a leather jacket, headphones, and a pair of sunglasses, struck a pose on stage. The Pro Hero, Present Mic.
"CAN I GET A 'HEY'?" he screamed.
The auditorium was met with dead silence. Lee, ever earnest, was tempted to respond before realizing no one else was.
Present Mic coughed. "Tough crowd! Alright, let's get straight to it! Here's the breakdown of your practical exam!" A massive screen lit up behind him. "You'll be conducting ten-minute mock urban battles in one of our massive city replicas! You can bring whatever you want with you! After the presentation, you'll head to your specified battle center!"
He went on to explain the targets: three types of villain-bots, each worth a different point value—one, two, or three points. Candidates were to use their Quirks to immobilize as many as possible to rack up a high score.
"But that's not all!" Present Mic yelled, striking another pose. "There's a fourth type of villain! The Arena Trap! This bad boy is worth zero points! He's just an obstacle, something you're better off avoiding! Think of him as a gimmick you gotta get around!"
Lee absorbed every word, his mind already calculating, strategizing. It was simple. Destroy the point-bots, avoid the big one. The test wasn't about heroic flair; it was a pure, cold measure of combat effectiveness.
Soon, the briefing was over. His exam ticket assigned him to Battle Center B. He filed out with the others and boarded a bus. The ride was short, filled with the nervous energy of his fellow examinees. He spotted the explosive blond-haired boy from the auditorium getting on the same bus. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second. The boy's crimson gaze dismissed him instantly, labeling him a worthless extra before looking away. Lee felt no animosity, only a strange sense of recognition. That boy was the epitome of gifted power, a perfect contrast to his own path.
They arrived. The gate to Battle Center B was a monolithic slab of steel, at least twenty meters high. It sealed off the entrance to a sprawling, artificial city that lay silent and waiting. Lee found a spot away from the main crowd and began his warm-up routine, his movements fluid and precise. He stretched his limbs, his mind clearing, the roar of the crowd in his head fading to a single point of focus.
The blond boy, Bakugo, was a few meters away, not stretching, but crackling with small explosions popping in his palms, a predator eager for the hunt.
Lee closed his eyes. He took a long, slow breath, filling his lungs. He pictured the dojo, the smell of wood and polish. He pictured Sora's face, her unwavering blue eyes. Trust your training. Trust me. He had faced a cage match. This was just a bigger cage. He had faced down his parents' fear. This was just a test. He opened his eyes. They were calm, steady, and blazing with a quiet, internal fire.
High above them, in a control tower, Present Mic's amplified voice boomed, shaking the very air.
"ALRIGHT, EXAMINEES! THE REAL WORLD DOESN'T HAVE A COUNTDOWN! THE TEST STARTS… NOW!"
A deafening siren blared. With a low, rumbling groan, the colossal gates of Battle Center B began to swing open.
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