Chapter 45: An Unyielding Spirit
The world had transformed into a raging inferno, a swirling cauldron of steam, boiling water, and brilliant, hungry flames. In the center of it all stood Shoto Todoroki, no longer a boy of one element, but a force of nature in human form, his left side a blazing sun, his right a miniature glacier. The sheer, oppressive power radiating from him was a physical force, a declaration that the time for games was over.
He stood as a monument to natural, inherited talent.
And opposite him, standing in the ankle-deep water, Rock Lee smiled.
It was a smile of pure, unadulterated joy. This was the test he had unknowingly been searching for his entire life. Not a battle for victory, but a battle for validation. To stand against the pinnacle of power, and to offer nothing in return but the strength he had carved from his own flesh and bone.
He raised his hands, the unwrapped bandages pooling in the water at his feet, and took his stance.
"This is it, then," Lee said, his voice calm and clear, yet carrying easily over the roar of the flames. "Your full power. I am honored to witness it."
Todoroki's expression was a mask of pain and fury. "You wanted this," he growled, the flames on his left side flaring violently. "Don't regret it when you're nothing but ash."
Lee's smile did not waver. He focused his will, a final, powerful surge of resolve. The crimson aura of the Third Gate was no longer enough. He needed more.
"SHŌMON… KAI!"
The Fourth Gate erupted to life. The brilliant blue aura exploded around him, a stark and beautiful contrast to the raging orange of Todoroki's fire. The steam around them swirled violently as the two immense pressures met in the center of the arena.
Todoroki attacked first. He thrust his left arm forward, and a colossal, roaring wave of fire, a tsunami of incineration, surged across the watery stage. It was an attack meant to end the fight, to vaporize his opponent utterly.
Lee did not retreat. He did not dodge. He stood his ground, cocked his right fist back, and threw a single, straight punch directly into the air in front of him. He was not aiming at the fire. He was aiming at the world itself.
The punch was so fast, so powerful, that it created a cannon blast of pure, compressed wind pressure. The blue wave of force shot out from his fist and met the orange wave of fire in a cataclysmic collision. For a breathtaking moment, the two forces battled for dominance in the center of the stage—a violent, screeching vortex of wind and flame. The fire, fueled by a decade of repressed rage, was ultimately stronger, consuming the wind and continuing its path. But it was too late. The clash had given Lee the single, precious moment he needed. He had vanished.
Todoroki's eyes darted around the thick, billowing steam, his senses on high alert. "Where…?"
From below.
Like a monster from the deep, Lee erupted from the boiling water at Todoroki's feet, his movement an impossible, upward blur. Todoroki's eyes widened in shock, but he had no time to react. Lee's leg swung up in a vicious, perfectly executed uppercut kick that connected squarely with Todoroki's jaw.
The impact was brutal. Todoroki's entire body was lifted off the ground, sent flying vertically into the air like a discarded doll, his consciousness rattling in his skull.
He was airborne. He was vulnerable.
But he was not defeated. Rage, pure and absolute, cut through his disorientation. While still ascending, he righted himself in the air and unleashed his fury. He rained down a torrential, indiscriminate storm of fire, turning the sky above Lee into a burning canopy of death.
Lee looked up at the descending inferno. There was no path of evasion. There was only the path forward. He charged.
He ran directly into the flames. The heat was a physical, searing thing, his green jumpsuit smoking and charring on contact. He could feel his skin blistering, the pain a sharp, shocking reality. But he ignored it. His will was a shield stronger than any steel. His eyes, burning with the blue light of the Fourth Gate, were fixed on his airborne target.
As he ran through the fire, the long, white bandages he had unwrapped earlier shot up from the water, dancing and whipping through the air like living serpents under his precise control. They soared past the flames and wrapped themselves around Todoroki's arms.
The effect was immediate and violent. The bandages on Todoroki's left arm were instantly incinerated by his flames. But the ones on his right arm were flash-frozen, the intense cold making them brittle, but for a crucial second, they held fast.
Lee reached the apex of his charge, leaping into the air, his body a spinning green and blue drill. He was now directly above the airborne, and still falling, Todoroki. He reached out and grabbed the frozen, ice-covered bandage that was still connected to Todoroki's right wrist. The sub-zero temperature seared his hand, but his grip was like a vise.
With a guttural roar that tore from the very depths of his soul, he pulled.
Todoroki was yanked downwards, his descent arrested, pulled towards Lee like a fish on a line. For a single, eternal moment, they were face to face in the sky, two boys suspended between heaven and earth, surrounded by fire and steam. One with eyes of cold fury and pained confusion. The other with eyes of serene, burning, absolute determination.
Lee's final punch was not a wild swing. It was a single, focused, and utterly devastating blow, delivered with every last ounce of the Fourth Gate's agonizing power. It struck Todoroki squarely in the solar plexus.
The sound of the impact was a deep, sickening THUD that seemed to echo in the hearts of everyone watching. The last of the frozen bandages shattered into a million glittering shards from the sheer force of the blow. Todoroki's eyes rolled back into his head. His body, now limp, was sent hurtling downwards like a meteor.
He crashed into the concrete stage with a force that sent a spiderweb of cracks spreading out from the point of impact, embedding him slightly in the hard surface.
Lee's own momentum carried him downwards. He landed a few meters away, his descent no longer graceful, but a controlled fall. He was on his feet, but just barely. He stood there, his body covered in angry red burns, his uniform scorched and smoking. He was panting, his chest heaving, every muscle screaming in protest. The brilliant blue aura of the Fourth Gate flickered violently, like a dying candle, and then, with a final, shuddering gasp, it extinguished completely. He was running on empty.
A profound, absolute silence fell over the stadium for the second time in the match. The crowd stared, speechless, at the scene on the stage. At the fallen prodigy, lying motionless in a shallow crater of his own making. And at the exhausted victor, standing tall, battered and burned, but undeniably, impossibly, standing.
Midnight looked from the unconscious Todoroki to the trembling, steaming form of Rock Lee. Her own face was a mask of awe. She raised her whip, her voice, when it came, was quieter than it had been all day, filled with a sense of profound reverence.
"Todoroki is… unable to continue," she announced, her voice carrying across the silent arena. "The winner of the match… is Rock Lee."
For a moment, there was still silence. Then, the stadium erupted.
It was not a cheer. It was a sound that no one there had ever heard before. It was a single, unified, historic roar of a hundred thousand people witnessing the birth of a legend. It was a sound of paradigms shifting, of beliefs being shattered, of the impossible being made real before their very eyes.
In the commentary booth, Present Mic was speechless, just making choked, unintelligible sounds into his microphone, tears streaming down his face. Aizawa had his head in his hand, a look of utter disbelief and something akin to pride on his face.
In the stands, Endeavor stood like a statue carved from stone, his flames completely extinguished, his face a mask of cold, hard fury and utter humiliation. His masterpiece, his creation, had been broken by a defect.
High above, All Might, in his skeletal form, watched from the shadows of a corridor, a proud, sad, and deeply thoughtful smile on his face. He was witnessing the dawn of a new kind of heroism.
And in her seat, Sora Aokawa was no longer watching. Her face was buried in her hands, and her body shook with silent, wracking sobs. They were tears of terror, of relief, of pride, and of a love so fierce it was painful, all pouring out in a single, private, cathartic torrent.
On the stage, surrounded by the wreckage of his monumental battle, Rock Lee heard the roar of the world chanting his name. He weakly raised a single, trembling, bandaged fist into the air. And then, his legs finally gave out. He collapsed to his knees, his victory absolute, his body finally surrendering to the impossible price he had paid to achieve it.