Author's note: This was written under the influence of sandalwood incense and a red LED. The inspiration for this was the last time I knocked myself unconscious. I apologise in advance if it's a little too emo or confusing.
The dark was pressing in around him, and bringing with it an escape from the pain. In the distance he heard a steady drumbeat. It was quiet here, and still, unlike the place he had come from. Where was that...?
He got disjointed images in response. A slim, red-haired boy. The sensation of moving, very fast. Grit in the air, on his skin. A sharp crack-
He instinctively pushed the images away as the pain followed them closer. The darkness welcomed him back into its protective shroud, forcing the pain to leave him be. It cradled him like an ally, and he welcomed its touch. As he did, the drumbeat grew weaker.
That sound is familiar, the boy thought, listening to the steady pound of the drum. Another fold of darkness wrapped around him, almost shutting out the sound completely. This time, rather than welcome the dark's protection, he resisted it. He wanted to hear the drumbeat; he had to know what it was.
He strained to reach it, to hear it better. Maybe it could tell him who he was, and what that place was outside the dark. The dark clung to him like watered-down clay as he dragged himself a few hesitant steps closer. The drumbeat grew louder in his ears, wholly familiar, like a companion he'd known from birth. It felt more trustworthy than the darkness sheltering him from the painful images outside.
The silt-like dark tugged at him a little more forcefully, and he knew that it wanted him to leave the drumbeat, to come back into its cool gentle grasp, away from the sound and the indefinable light that the drum brought with it. But he was unwilling to leave the drumbeat behind yet. The pain was coming back as he neared it, but he didn't care. The drum had to have more answers than the dark was giving.
There were voices murmuring within the drum, strong, urgent. He focused on them, but couldn't immediately distinguish the words. The dark reached for him again as one voice leapt out from the others, coherent-
"Fight, Lee-kun!"
The dark snapped him back with a vengeance, away from the voice, the drumbeat he knew so well. It shut out the pain again too, but this time the boy found no comfort in its cloying grasp.
"Fight, Lee-kun!"
The voice rang in his head. He knew that voice! It had never led him astray, not ever! And it was an ally of the drumbeat the dark was trying to keep him from.
Fight what? he asked no one in particular, then supplied the answer himself. The dark was trying to keep him from the drumbeat he knew and the voice he trusted. Fight the dark!
Let me go! he screamed at the dark, twisting out of its embrace. The pain outside hit him full force, and he remembered its source in a flash of images-
-a red-haired boy with cold eyes and sand armour. He had moved faster than the boy's sand and struck him. The sand had whirled, caught him-
The dark sucked at his heels like mud, inviting to shelter him once again from the pain, miring his feet-
-by an arm and a leg and squeezed, the sudden pain overwhelming him-
He yanked a foot free from the dark and staggered towards the drumbeat-
-not even realizing that the crack that had split the air was his bones breaking until he hit the stone floor-
"Fight, Lee-kun!" he heard again in his head. The voice said fight, so he would fight! With a yell he ripped his other foot free and raced for the drum. The suffocating darkness tried to grab him again, but he whirled and struck it. It was no friend of his! He punched and kicked out viciously at the dark, then ran for the drumbeat again-
-unable to move as the sand closed in for the kill-
The pain threatened to destroy him but he fought it as he had the darkness, punching right through it, the welcome drumbeat now drowning everything else out-
-his sensei, leaping into the arena to stop the sand-
Lee woke with a sound somewhere between a shout and a gasp, his pulse pounding in his ears. Where was he? He ached all over, and his mouth tasted like metal.
"Welcome back, Lee-kun." The medic-nin at his side said. He was on his back, in a room that wore all the colours of a hospital. Someone grasped his uninjured hand and asked, "Lee-kun?"
It was the voice he knew and trusted, that told him to fight when the darkness tried to keep him.
"Gai-sensei...I heard you."
Then he passed out again.
Fin
R&R is appreciated, even if it's naught but blatant flames. Thanks for taking the time to get this far.