The stone corridor outside the arena tasted like dust and nerves.
Lee bounced on the balls of his feet, light jog in place, trying to keep his muscles warm without burning too much chakra. His arms did little circles, joints popping quietly. Sweat prickled under his leg warmers.
"You must conserve your strength, Lee," Gai said, looming just within arm's reach. "Remember: the springtime of youth blooms brightest at the decisive moment, not in the hallway."
"Yes, Gai-sensei!" Lee said immediately.
His voice came out a little higher than usual.
He couldn't help it.
Gaara.
Even thinking the Sand-nin's name made his skin creep. The image of those cold, ringed eyes and that gourd of sand on his back had been stuck in his mind since the Forest of Death. Since that quiet, ugly moment when Gaara had almost crushed a man without changing expression.
Lee shook his head, hard.
No.
He would not be shaken. Not now.
He had worked too long, too hard, to be acknowledged.
Footsteps approached, soft but distinct. Gai's posture changed—shoulders tightening, jaw setting—for the first time all day.
"Yo," Kakashi's lazy drawl floated around the corner.
Lee glanced over.
Kakashi appeared with his hands buried in his pockets, Icha Icha sticking out of one. His visible eye flicked over Lee once, then locked on Gai.
Gai moved to intercept him, a sudden quick step that put his bulk between Lee and the other jōnin.
Lee froze mid-bounce, ears straining.
"Is it true?" Gai asked, voice pitched low. There was none of his usual booming theatrics in it. "Orochimaru himself?"
Lee's heart tripped over a beat.
Orochi—?
Kakashi's eye slanted toward him, then back to Gai. The cloth of his mask heaving with a sigh.
"Yeah," Kakashi said. "He was in the tower. I dealt with what I could."
Lee's legs kept moving on autopilot, but the rest of him felt very still.
Orochimaru. The name wasn't just a name. It was one of the ones whispered in the Academy when the teachers thought the children's ears were busy. S-ranked traitor. Monster. The kind of shinobi whose legend you used to measure the size of your own hopelessness.
"Watch Lee," Kakashi added, quieter. "Harder than usual. This exam isn't just an exam anymore."
Gai's hands clenched into fists at his sides. Lee could hear the leather of his gloves creak.
"My flames of youth are always set to maximum where my students are concerned," Gai said, but there was an edge under it. "But… I understand."
Kakashi's gaze slid past them, toward the light at the end of the corridor that led to the arena.
He nodded once. "Don't let him die for your pride," he said. "Or anyone else's."
Before Gai could answer, the PA crackled faintly.
"Next match: Rock Lee of Konoha versus Sabaku no Gaara of Sunagakure."
The words echoed down the hall.
Lee felt his pulse leap.
Gaara.
He straightened, back going automatically ramrod-stiff.
"Gai-sensei…" he started.
Gai turned to him. All the worry smoothed off his face in an instant, like it had never been there.
In its place was the sun.
"Lee!" Gai shouted, grabbing him by both shoulders. "This is your moment! Remember Hinata's courage. Remember the rivals who have acknowledged your strength. Remember the vows you have made under the blue sky!"
"Under the blue sky!" Lee echoed, throat tight.
Gai squeezed hard enough to grind bone.
"Show them the power of hard work," he said. Quiet now. Just for Lee. "And no matter what… come back."
Lee swallowed.
"O-of course, Gai-sensei," he said. "I will not disappoint you!"
He tore himself away before the emotion got too heavy to move through, and jogged down the hall towards the light.
The arena hit him like a wave—noise, heat, air heavy with dust and sweat. The balcony ringed the central pit, filled with genin and jōnin and the watchful eyes of the Hokage, of visiting dignitaries, of strangers who would judge him off a single match.
Across the cracked stone, Gaara walked into place.
He did not jog. He did not bounce.
He drifted.
His cloak barely moved. The giant gourd on his back loomed over his shoulders like some hunched creature, but his own body was relaxed, expression empty.
Sand leaked lazily from the gourd's mouth, snaking along the floor in tiny streams that never quite touched him.
Lee stopped at his mark, heart hammering.
He bowed.
Gaara did not.
Lee straightened, cheeks burning faintly, and got his guard up instead.
"Combatants ready?" Hayate rasped between them, one hand pressed to his mouth as he coughed.
"Yes!" Lee said.
Gaara stared at him.
"Yes," he said, voice flat, like he was answering a different question.
Hayate's arm cut through the air. "Begin!"
Lee moved.
He exploded forward, pushing chakra into his legs. The world blurred around him. Stone cracked under his first step as he launched himself at Gaara's flank, aiming to get inside whatever range that gourd on his back allowed.
He'd watched Gaara's other matches. The defense moved to block without being told.
He was not faster than sand.
A wall of granules surged up between them in a smooth, unnatural wave, catching Lee's first kick like it had been waiting for it.
The impact shuddered up Lee's leg. The gritty wall hissed, grains spraying, but it held. He flipped back, landing lightly, and darted in again—low this time, aiming for the ankles.
The pale yellow sand flowed down, a living barrier.
"Whoaaa!" Naruto's yell echoed down from the balconies. "Lee's so fast!"
Lee heard it like a distant bell, but his focus stayed locked on Gaara.
He changed angles, attacked from above, spinning into a high roundhouse. The shifting mass rose like a tide, cradle and shield, catching and deflecting every strike.
Gaara still had not taken a single step.
His eyes tracked Lee's path with lazy disinterest. The shifting shield did the work.
On the far balcony, the Sand jōnin—Baki—stood with arms folded, mouth twisted into something like a smirk. On the Konoha side, jōnin murmured.
"No ninjutsu, no genjutsu," someone said. "Just taijutsu… against that?"
"What was Gai thinking, entering him?"
Beside them, Gai's teeth glinted. His smile was too wide, too bright, brittle around the edges.
"He was thinking," Gai said, voice carrying more than it should have, "that true hard work can carve through even the mightiest defense!"
Lee caught flashes of green and orange in his peripheral vision.
Naruto leaned so far over the railing he looked ready to fall, fists pumping the air.
"Come on, Bushy Brows!" he howled. "You got this! Don't let that sandy weirdo push you around!"
Next to him, Sylvie was half over the bar too, pink hair wild. Her voice cut through clean.
"Watch the ground, Lee!" she yelled. "It's reading your steps! Change your rhythm!"
He couldn't see her chakra from here, but he knew she could see his. The idea warmed something in his chest.
People are watching.
People are relying on me.
Lee changed his rhythm.
He let his feet stumble, on purpose. Broke the clean taijutsu cadence Gai had drilled into his bones. He made his movements uneven, ugly.
The sand still caught him.
Not as smoothly as before—there were little jerks now, a fraction of delay when he broke pattern—but it was there. Always there. Always between him and Gaara.
He landed lightly outside its reach, panting lightly.
His legs burned a little. His arms stung where stray grains had scraped his skin. He wasn't hurt yet. Not really.
But his attacks weren't leaving a mark.
Gaara tilted his head, curious.
"Is this all you can do?" he asked.
His voice held no mockery.
That made it worse.
Lee clenched his fists.
"No," he said.
He glanced up, seeking one face.
Gai met his eyes instantly.
For a heartbeat, the noise of the arena dropped away. There was only the line between teacher and student, threaded with years of sweat and failure and stubbornness.
Gai nodded.
Lee's heart jumped.
Permission.
His hands moved before he even fully thought it through, reaching for the heavy orange leg warmers strapped around his calves.
"Ah—he's—what's he doing?" some genin muttered.
"Taking off his style choice?" Kiba snorted.
Gai's expression slid from brittle pride to something sharper.
"Everyone," he shouted, voice ringing off the stone. "I advise you… step back from the railing!"
Lee popped the first buckle.
The weight of the leg warmers tugged at his hands immediately. They'd been a part of his body for so long he barely felt them anymore. Habit had hidden their heft from his conscious mind.
The second buckle came free.
He slid the warmers off, one at a time, and felt his legs suddenly become… light.
As if someone had replaced his bones with air.
He held the two heavy rolls of fabric up for a second, almost in farewell.
Then he let them drop.
They hit the arena floor with twin booms.
Stone shattered. Dust jumped. The impact radiated up through Lee's feet even from where he stood.
The whole arena went silent for a single, stunned breath.
"…What the hell?" someone choked from above.
"Those things… weighed that much?" Tenten said faintly, somewhere behind the rail.
Shikamaru, from the sidelines, cursed under his breath. "Troublesome…"
Gaara's brow twitched.
Just a fraction.
The sand at his feet rustled.
Lee grinned.
He sank into his stance.
No more extra weight. No more holding back.
"Thank you for your patience," he said, bowing his head slightly toward Gaara. "Now…"
He vanished.
To an outside eye, it looked like he flickered out of existence.
One instant, he was there. The next, he was a blur at Gaara's side, leg already whipping toward the swirling shield of sand.
The shield tried to rise.
It was too slow.
His kick smashed into Gaara's guard before it was fully formed, sending the other boy skidding sideways, cloak snapping. Sand exploded in a spray, grains rattling across the stone.
This time, Lee felt a real impact. Something solid under that grainy cushion.
The crowd let out a roar.
"YEAH!" Naruto bellowed. "That's what I'm talking about!"
Lee didn't stop.
He was already gone, reappearing behind Gaara, then in front, then low, then high. Each blow forced the sand to move faster, to stretch thinner.
Inside his body, everything screamed.
His muscles were on fire, the tendons in his legs shrieking under the sudden demand. Years of training under Gai had prepared him for this, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.
He welcomed the pain.
Pain meant he was alive. Pain meant he was moving beyond what he'd been told was his limit.
He saw Naruto and Sylvie in the stands, mouths wide, shouting. He heard Tenten's disbelieving laugh. He felt Neji's gaze, sharp and judging as always.
Let them all watch.
He would not be left behind.
A flurry of kicks drove Gaara backward, the sand shield taking more and more hits. Cracks appeared in it—small, but there.
Gaara's expression changed.
For the first time, there was surprise there.
"You're fast," he said.
Lee's heart soared.
"Thank you," he said, breathless. "But I am not finished!"
He darted in again. This time, he feinted low, then cut up, his heel aimed at Gaara's chin.
The sand rose, but Lee had already pulled back, letting his momentum carry him up and over. He flipped, planting a palm on the top of the sand and using it as a springboard to come down from above.
Gaara's eyes followed, a fraction late.
Lee's foot connected with his jaw.
The sound it made was small compared to the roar of the crowd, but it rang in Lee's bones.
Gaara's head snapped to the side. His body lifted off the ground, sand scrambling to catch up but too slow to fully cushion. He went airborne, cloak flaring.
Lee's world narrowed to the arc of that fall.
He was moving before Gaara had finished rising, chakra flooding his legs, his whole body becoming a single vector.
He flashed above Gaara, flipping again, putting his back to the other boy's back in midair, matching their spin.
Kage Buyō.
Shadow of the Dancing Leaf.
He could feel Gaara against him now, the strange wrongness of that chakra bleeding through the sand armor. It felt like standing too close to a storm.
He ignored it.
Bandages whipped free from his wrists, snaking around Gaara's body, binding sand and boy together in a tight spiral. The centrifugal force dragged them both into a spin, faster and faster.
"Gai-sensei!" Lee shouted, voice tearing raw in the wind. "Look at me!"
Far below, Gai's eyes were huge and bright, hands clenched so hard his knuckles showed white.
Lee could almost hear him, voice echoing in his memory.
The Lotus is a forbidden technique, Lee. It tears at the body as much as the opponent. You may only use it with my permission.
You have my permission.
Lee's world went red at the edges.
Inside himself, he felt something tear open—one of the inner gates, a limiter on his strength wrenching aside. Power flooded out of him, scorching his muscles, wrapping the two of them in a blazing halo of effort.
"Primary Lotus!" he shouted.
Then there was no more room for words.
They hit.
The world became force.
Stone rushed up to meet them and shattered. Dust and debris exploded outward in a brutal flower. The shockwave punched up Lee's spine, through his skull, out his teeth.
For a moment, there was nothing but impact and the screaming protest of his own body.
Then gravity let go.
He bounced sideways, rolling across the broken arena floor, bandages snapping loose, breath knocked out of him. Every muscle in his body seized, then trembled, then threatened to give up entirely.
He forced himself up onto hands and knees.
His vision swam. The edges of the crater were a blur of grey and brown. His lungs burned like he'd swallowed fire.
He coughed, spat out dust, and blinked until the world came back into focus.
The crater was deep.
Sand lay scattered in lumps and streaks, darkened where it had mixed with stone.
Lee's heart pounded in his ears.
Did I…?
Did I do it?
The crowd was a roar and a buzz, a hundred voices crashing together. Some were cheering. Some were stunned. He picked out one, bright and unmistakable.
"LEE! YOU DID IT!" Naruto screamed from above, voice cracking. "YOU WON!"
His chest swelled.
He pushed himself shakily to his feet, swaying a little, and turned toward the crater, ready to bow, to accept that somehow he, Rock Lee, the failure who could not use ninjutsu or genjutsu, had taken down a monster with hard work alone—
The sand moved.
It started as a tremor at the bottom of the crater, then a slow, inexorable rise. Grains slithered together, pulling up, wrapping around something.
Around someone.
A shape hunched up out of the dust, wrapped in a thick cocoon of sand.
Lee's breath stalled.
The sand peeled back.
Gaara stood there.
His cloak was torn. There were cracks in the sand armor on his face, lines spiderwebbing out from one cheek. Blood trickled at the corner of his mouth.
His eyes were still that same cold green.
He tilted his head slightly, as if considering a new insect.
"…Interesting," he said.
The word slithered across the broken stone, slipping under Lee's skin.
Lee's legs shook.
The Primary Lotus had ripped at him from the inside, just like Gai had warned. His muscles screamed with every tiny adjustment to keep him upright. His chakra felt like a rag wrung almost dry.
He could feel Naruto's joy twisting into confusion in the stands. Could feel Sylvie's chakra spike, a sharp flare of alarm.
No.
He would not let this be the end.
Not of his resolve, not of Hinata's courage, not of his vow to prove that hard work could stand beside genius on the same stage.
Lee lifted his head.
Above the thudding of his heart, he heard Gai's voice in memory again, softer this time.
There is another way, Lee. A path only you can walk. But if you choose it, you will pay for every step.
Lee smiled, baring his teeth.
He slid a foot back into stance, even though his muscles trembled.
"Gai-sensei…" he whispered.
His fingers curled.
Inside, deeper than breath and blood, he felt the next gate waiting.
Waiting to be opened.
He drew in a shaky lungful of dust-heavy air.
"If… the Lotus was not enough," he murmured, eyes never leaving Gaara's, "then I will simply… go further."
He reached inward.
The arena held its breath.