Chapter 24: Scars of Victory
A full week had passed since the USJ incident. For seven days, the world had moved on, news cycles had churned, and the students of Class 1-A had returned to a tense and altered version of their school lives. But for Rock Lee, the world had been the quiet, sterile white of a hospital room, and then the familiar, comforting walls of his own home.
On the morning of the eighth day, however, something was different. Lee awoke not to the dull, phantom ache of over-stressed muscles or the sharp sting of torn ligaments, but to a feeling of profound, vibrant stillness. He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and felt… nothing. No pain. No weakness. He felt a deep, resonant strength humming in the very marrow of his bones. His body, having been pushed to the absolute brink of annihilation and then given time to heal, had not simply recovered. It had adapted. It had rebuilt itself, stronger and more resilient than before.
He stood and moved to the center of his room. He took a slow breath and began his morning kata. His movements, usually so sharp and precise, now possessed a new, effortless fluidity. His limbs felt lighter, his balance more centered, his connection to the flow of energy within his own body more acute than ever before. He had paid a terrible price for opening the Fourth Gate, but his body, in its infinite capacity for growth, had given him a dividend on his investment.
Downstairs, the atmosphere at the breakfast table was one of quiet awe. His mother placed a plate of rice and fish before him, her hands steady, her eyes no longer filled with the frantic terror of the past week, but with a deep, lingering wonder. His father watched him eat, a small, amazed smile playing on his lips.
"The doctors said your recovery was miraculous," his father said, folding his newspaper. "They had never seen a case of severe muscular exertion heal so completely, so quickly."
Lee swallowed his food before replying, his voice clear and full of a restless energy. "My body is restless, Father! It has rested long enough. It craves the challenge of U.A.! I feel I must return today."
His mother looked at his father, a silent conversation passing between them. The fear was still there, a shadow in the corners of their eyes, but it was now overlaid with an undeniable pride in their son's incredible resilience. She turned back to Lee, her expression softening. "Then you must go," she said, her voice firm. "Do your best, Lee. And… try not to give your mother a heart attack before lunchtime."
He grinned, a wide, bright, and truly happy expression. "I will endeavor to do my best on both counts, Mother!"
The walk to U.A. felt like a rebirth. The air was crisper, the colors of the city more vivid. As he passed through the massive school gates, he noticed the whispers and stares from other students. The news of the USJ attack had made Class 1-A infamous, and the rumors about the boy with the bushy eyebrows who had gone toe-to-toe with the monster had already begun to circulate, morphing into a legend of their own.
When he slid open the enormous door to Class 1-A, the cheerful morning chatter died instantly. Every single head turned towards him. For a moment, there was a stunned silence, as if they were looking at a ghost.
Then, the room exploded.
"LEE!" Eijiro Kirishima was the first to move, rushing over and grabbing his shoulder with a joyous, manly grip. "DUDE! You're back! We were so worried! What you did back there… facing that monster head-on… that was the manliest thing I have ever seen in my entire life!"
Before Lee could respond, Mina Ashido was bouncing in front of him, her golden eyes wide with a thousand questions. "Lee-kun! Are you okay? You really okay? You were out for a whole week! Your blue fire thing was SO COOL! It was like, WHOOSH! What was that? Is that your real Quirk? You have to tell us everything!"
"Seriously, man, you were like a video game final boss," Denki Kaminari chimed in, leaning over his desk with a grin. "One minute you're there, the next you're a blue rocket. Totally insane!"
Lee found himself surrounded, a warm and chaotic wave of concern and excited curiosity washing over him. He felt his cheeks flush, entirely unequipped to handle this level of social attention. He bowed deeply, a gesture of earnest gratitude. "Thank you all for your concern!" he said, his voice loud and clear. "My body has recovered fully! I am once again filled with the fire of youthful vigor and ready to resume my studies!"
His formal, slightly bombastic speech was so uniquely him that it broke the tension, causing several of his classmates to chuckle. He was trying his best to be evasive about their questions regarding his "Quirk," and they were, for the moment, happy enough to let him. Even Iida, after approaching to express his profound relief at Lee's recovery while simultaneously cautioning him on the dangers of such reckless power usage, seemed satisfied. The atmosphere was one of welcome, of a class happy to have one of its most enigmatic members back among them.
But the warmth was instantly frozen by a palpable wave of killing intent.
The joyous chatter died again. Every student slowly turned their gaze towards the corner of the room. Katsuki Bakugo rose from his seat, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He didn't speak. He just walked, his movements slow and deliberate, each step echoing in the sudden, dead silence of the classroom. He walked directly towards Lee, his crimson eyes fixed on him with a terrifying, focused intensity.
The other students instinctively backed away, clearing a path. Bakugo stopped directly in front of Lee, so close that Lee could feel the heat radiating from his skin.
And then, his hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of Lee's uniform at the collar. He lifted, pulling Lee slightly forward, his knuckles white.
"You," Bakugo snarled, his voice a low, guttural growl that promised violence. "The entrance exam."
Lee did not struggle. He did not show fear. He simply met Bakugo's furious gaze with his own calm, unblinking one.
"That power you used against that monster," Bakugo continued, his voice dangerously low. "That speed. That insane strength. It wasn't there when we took the exam. You were holding back. Weren't you?" His grip tightened, the fabric of Lee's uniform groaning in protest. He leaned in, his teeth gritted. "Were you looking down on me? Did you think I was so weak, so pathetic, that you didn't even need to try? Is that it?!" His voice finally erupted into a full-throated roar. "I DON'T WANT A FAKE FIRST PLACE THAT YOU HANDED TO ME BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T FEEL LIKE TRYING, YOU BASTARD!"
The raw, undiluted rage in his voice was staggering. It was the fury of a prodigy, a genius who had been number one his entire life, who had just discovered that his greatest victory might have been a sham, an act of pity from someone he had already dismissed as a worthless stepping stone.
"Bakugo. That's enough."
The voice was tired, flat, and carried an authority that no one in the room dared to challenge. Shota Aizawa stood in the doorway, his arm in a sling and bandages still wrapped around his head, looking like a mummy who had just woken up on the wrong side of the sarcophagus. His visible eye was red with exhaustion, but it was fixed on Bakugo with a look that tolerated no argument.
With a final, disgusted "Tch," Bakugo shoved Lee away and stormed back to his desk, slumping into his seat and radiating waves of pure, murderous anger.
Aizawa sighed, the sound a tired rattle. "Glad to have you back, Lee. Try to keep the infighting to a minimum." He scanned the room, the tension still thick enough to cut with a knife. "Now, find your seats. We have things to discuss."
The immediate confrontation was over. But as Lee straightened his uniform, he could feel Bakugo's eyes boring into his back. A rivalry had been simmering beneath the surface since the first day. Now, it had been dragged out into the open, raw and bleeding, for all to see.