Chapter 7: The Fragile Bargain
The police station was a world of muted beige and soul-crushing bureaucracy. It smelled of cheap, burnt coffee and old paper. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a sterile, unflattering glow on everything and everyone. Lee sat on a hard plastic chair, a coarse, station-issued blanket draped over his shoulders. Beside him, Sora sat perfectly still, her posture erect, her expression unreadable.
They had been questioned separately, then together. The officers were firm but not unkind. Lee and Sora's stories were consistent, and a background check revealed pristine records for both. They were not known criminals. They were, the lead officer concluded with a sigh, a case of a misguided teacher and an overzealous student getting caught up in something far over their heads. After a lengthy, stern lecture about the dangers of illegal vigilantism and the severe penalties for unlicensed Quirk use—a charge that made the officer pause awkwardly when looking at Lee—they were released. But not before a mandatory call was placed to Lee's legal guardians.
He saw them before they saw him. His father and mother rushed through the station's glass doors, their faces etched with a frantic terror that made Lee's heart ache. When his mother's eyes found him, her expression crumpled. She saw the ugly purple and blue bruise blooming on his cheekbone, the cut on his lip, the sheer exhaustion in his posture.
She rushed to him, her hands hovering over his face, afraid to touch the bruised skin. "Lee… oh, my boy, what happened to you? Look at you," she whispered, her voice trembling, thick with unshed tears. Her gaze then lifted, landing on the calm, composed woman sitting next to her son. The fear in her eyes hardened into a cold, sharp resentment.
"You," she said to Sora, her voice low and accusatory. "This is your doing."
Lee's father stood behind his wife, his hand on her shoulder, his face a grim mask of anger and disappointment. "We received a call that our son was involved in an illegal underground fight club," he said, his voice dangerously level. "We entrust him to you for training, and this is where he ends up? In a police station in the middle of the night?"
Before Sora could respond, Lee spoke up, his voice clear despite the pain in his ribs. "It was not Sensei's fault. It was my test. I asked for it."
His mother turned back to him, her eyes wide with disbelief. "A test? Lee, this isn't a game! I was never comfortable with this… this dojo you spend all your time in. I thought it was just exercise, a way for you to feel better. I never imagined it would lead to this." Her voice cracked on the last word. She looked betrayed, her deepest fears realized.
"I want to join U.A. High," Lee stated, the words leaving his lips with more force than he intended. He had to make them understand. "That fight… it was necessary. It was the only way to know if I was truly ready."
The silence that followed was heavier than any weight he had ever lifted. His father stared at him as if he had just started speaking in a foreign language. Then, he turned his furious gaze on Sora.
"My son is Quirkless," he said, the word cutting through the air like a shard of glass. "What nonsense have you been putting in his head? U.A. High? That is a place for the strongest, the most gifted! It is a place for heroes, not… not for him. Are you trying to get him killed?"
"You'll go there to die?!" his mother cried, her control finally shattering. Her fear poured out of her, raw and unfiltered. "Do you see the villains on the news? Monsters that can level buildings! Creatures that heroes with incredible powers can barely defeat! And you want to face them by… by punching? That's enough!" She grabbed his arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "No more. No more of this dojo, no more of these insane ideas. You have had too much freedom."
The words were a cage, built from love and terror, threatening to close around him. He looked at his parents' desperate faces and felt his resolve waver. But then he saw Sora. She was watching the exchange, her expression calm. She finally spoke, her voice cutting through the emotional storm.
"So you believe it's impossible," she said, not as a question, but as a statement of fact. She addressed both parents. "You believe that because he is Quirkless, he is guaranteed to fail. That his dream is a suicide mission."
"Of course it is!" his father shot back.
"Good," Sora said, a sharp, challenging glint in her blue eyes. "Then why not bet on his failure?"
Lee's parents stared at her, confused.
"I believe he will succeed," she continued, her voice ringing with an unshakable confidence that silenced the room. "But you are convinced he will fail. If you are right, if being Quirkless truly makes it impossible, then he will not pass the entrance exam. U.A.'s test is the ultimate judge of potential. It will weed him out, and his 'insane idea' will be over. He will be safe, and you will be proven right." She paused, letting the logic sink in. "Let the exam be the arbiter. Let U.A. tell him no. If you forbid him from even trying, he will resent you for the rest of his life, always wondering 'what if'. Is that what you want?"
It was a brilliant, ruthless gambit, turning their own fear and logic against them. Lee saw the trap she had laid, and he saw the conflict in his parents' eyes.
He seized the moment. He turned to them, his own eyes pleading. "Please," he begged, his voice soft but filled with the weight of four years of devotion. "Father. Mother. I know you are scared. But this is everything I have worked for. Everything Sensei has given me. Please… just give me this one chance. Let me try. Let me prove myself."
His mother looked at his bruised face, at the passionate fire in his eyes. She looked at his father, whose angry facade was beginning to crumble, revealing the worried parent beneath. She looked at Sora, this strange, intense woman who had somehow convinced her son he could touch the sun. A long, shuddering sigh escaped her.
"If you fail…" his father said slowly, his voice heavy with resignation. "If you fail this exam, this is over. For good. You will focus on a normal high school. A normal life. Do you understand?"
It was not the blessing he wanted. It was not their faith. It was a fragile, reluctant bargain, born of fear and cornered logic. But it was enough.
"I understand," Lee said, bowing his head, a wave of profound relief washing over him. "Thank you."
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