Chapter 43: The Weight of a Ghost
Silence.
It was a phenomenon that should have been impossible in a stadium filled with a hundred thousand roaring souls, yet it was absolute. The single, impossible statement from the boy in the green jumpsuit had fallen like a stone into a vast lake, and the ripples of shock had silenced every voice, every cheer, every gasp. The only sounds were the distant hum of the news helicopters and the low, mournful whistle of the wind blowing across the newly formed mountain of ice on the stage.
I do not have a Quirk.
The words hung in the air, incredible and absurd. On the stage, Shoto Todoroki stood frozen, not by his own power, but by the sheer, paradigm-shattering weight of that claim. His mind, a fortress of cold logic built upon a world of absolute genetic hierarchies, could not process the input. It was a logical fallacy. It was an error in the fundamental code of his reality. He stared at Rock Lee, searching his open, earnest face for any flicker of deception, any hint of a lie or a trick. He found none. He found only an unwavering, absolute sincerity. And that was the most terrifying thing of all.
From the commentary booth, Present Mic's voice, usually a weapon of sonic enthusiasm, was a choked, stammering whisper. "W-w-what… what did he just say? Did I hear that right, folks? Quirk… less? B-but that's… that's impossible! No one gets into the Hero Course without a Quirk, let alone dominates the festival!"
Rock Lee broke the silence. He did not need to offer any more words. He would offer a demonstration.
He settled deeper into his stance, a faint smile still on his lips. "Todoroki-kun, you asked me to show you my power," he said, his voice ringing with a new, powerful clarity that filled the silent stadium. "You are not wrong to be confused. The world has taught you that power is a gift you are born with."
He took a sharp, deep breath. "SEIMON… KAI!"
The Third Gate erupted into being. His skin flushed a deep, burning crimson. A thick cloud of steam vented from his body, hissing into the cold air created by Todoroki's ice. A visible, fiery red aura of pure energy engulfed him, his hair lifting as if in a strong updraft. The pressure he emitted intensified tenfold, a palpable wave of heat and power that washed over the stage.
"But you are mistaken!" Lee declared, his voice now a passionate roar. He pointed a thumb at his own chest, at the heart that pounded like a war drum within him. "What you see before you is not a gift! It is a testament! It is the accumulation of five years of sweat and blood and tears! It is the result of a promise I made to myself when I had absolutely nothing!" He clenched his fist, the red aura flaring violently. "This is the power of hard work! And it has never needed a Quirk!"
The stadium remained silent, but it was a different kind of silence now. It was the silence of awe.
In the commentary booth, Present Mic turned desperately to his partner, his eyes wide. "Eraser Head! Aizawa! You can tell, right?! Your Quirk! Use it! For the love of—is he telling the truth?!"
Shota Aizawa, who had been leaning forward with an intensity no one had seen from him before, did not hesitate. His long black hair lifted, floating around his head as if underwater. His eyes, tired and bandaged, snapped open and glowed with a menacing, crimson light. His gaze locked onto Rock Lee.
The camera on the giant Jumbotron zoomed in, showing a split screen: Aizawa's glowing, activated stare on one side, and Rock Lee, wreathed in his fiery red aura, on the other. The world watched, holding its breath for the verdict.
One second passed. Two. Three.
Nothing happened. Lee's red, steaming aura did not vanish. It did not flicker. It continued to burn with the same, unwavering intensity, completely unaffected by the most powerful Quirk-canceling ability in the world.
Aizawa's eyes widened, the red glow faltering for a fraction of a second in his shock. It's true, his mind whispered, a cold wave of disbelief washing over him. My Erasure targets the specific genetic factor that allows a person to manifest a Quirk. If his power isn't disappearing… it's because there is nothing to erase. It's coming from a different source entirely.
Present Mic saw the look of pure, unadulterated shock on his friend's face. He grabbed the microphone, his hand trembling, understanding the earth-shattering implication. His voice was no longer a shout, but a hushed, reverent announcement that would change the course of the festival forever.
"LADIES… AND GENTLEMEN," he said, his voice trembling with the weight of the revelation. "I… I have confirmation. From Eraser Head himself. His Quirk… has no effect." He took a shaky breath. "What you are witnessing… is real. Rock Lee… is fighting a top-tier prodigy… and he is doing it, quite literally, without a Quirk."
The shockwave from that confirmation was a thousand times more powerful than any of Bakugo's explosions. The stadium, which had been silent, erupted into a chaotic, disbelieving, and utterly electrified roar.
In the Class 1-A waiting area, Katsuki Bakugo leaped to his feet, his hands sparking and popping with uncontrolled fury. "QUIRKLESS?!" he screamed, his voice a raw, jagged thing. "YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME! THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE! NO DAMN EXTRA WITHOUT A QUIRK COULD BE THAT STRONG! WHAT KIND OF JOKE IS THIS?!" His entire reality, a world built on the simple, absolute truth of his own innate superiority, was being violently torn to shreds before his very eyes.
In the infirmary, Izuku Midoriya clutched his chest, hot tears streaming freely down his face. He wasn't crying from sadness. It was an overwhelming, cathartic wave of emotion he couldn't name. He saw himself in that boy on the screen—the ghost of a small, Quirkless child who was told his dream was impossible. But this version of himself had never been given a gift. This version had found his own answer, an answer carved from five years of hellish, solitary effort. It was the most inspiring, and the most deeply humbling, thing he had ever seen.
High in the stands, Sora's stoic expression finally broke. A single, proud, and painful tear traced a path down her cheek. She watched her student, her boy, finally declare his truth to the world. Now they see, Lee, she thought, her heart aching with a fierce, maternal pride. Now they all see what a true warrior looks like.
The fight resumed with a new, savage intensity. Todoroki, his mind still reeling from the impossible truth but his resolve hardened by a new, cold fury, unleashed a relentless, desperate barrage of ice. He was no longer just trying to win. He was trying to enforce the natural order of the world, to prove that a god-given gift would always triumph over the pathetic struggles of a commoner.
The stage became a chaotic, ever-growing forest of giant, crystalline ice shards. It was a beautiful and terrifying landscape. Lee, now a crimson blur in his Third Gate form, moved like a phantom through the deadly maze. He was a flash of red and green, weaving between colossal pillars of ice, dodging jagged spikes that erupted from the ground, and occasionally shattering smaller constructs with a single, powerful kick.
The battle devolved into a brutal, exhausting stalemate. Lee was too fast, his senses too sharp, for any of Todoroki's attacks to land. But Todoroki's defensive output was too vast, too overwhelming, for Lee to find a path to get close. The prodigy was creating ice faster than Lee could break it.
In the Class 1-A stands, Uraraka watched with wide, nervous eyes. "This is insane," she breathed. "Neither of them can land a decisive blow. What's going to happen?" She turned to the one person she knew would have an answer. "Deku-kun?"
Midoriya, having returned from the infirmary, wiped the last of his tears away, his analytical mind already taking over. His eyes darted back and forth, tracking every movement, every strategy.
"It's a battle of endurance," he said, his voice low and intense, his muttering habit returning in his excitement. "Todoroki-kun is consuming massive amounts of energy to constantly create ice on that scale, to keep Lee-kun at a distance. You can see the frost starting to form on his own body. He's fighting against his own limits. But Lee-kun is also consuming an incredible amount of stamina to maintain the Third Gate and that level of speed." He paused, his gaze fixed on the two combatants. "The first one whose reserves run dry… will lose." He looked at them, a new thought dawning on him. "Unless one of them can find a way to fundamentally change the nature of this entire fight."