The dust settled slowly. Dirt coated the bodies strewn about like discarded clay dolls, clung to Naruto's skin like another layer of clothing. His blood pounded in his ears like frantic drums, and the sickly sweet metallic scent of blood hung thick in the air over the muted undertones of upturned earth. His fingers hurt from where they were clenched tight around the scrap of green fabric. He took in one choked breath, then another. Only forty seconds had passed.

Lee had shone so bright at first it had been like staring into the sun, and Naruto had wondered for a brief, wistful moment if the image might not be burned into his retinas, of Lee at his last, his best--before his body blurred so fast Naruto's eyes couldn't keep up, could only track Lee's progress by the falling bodies and plumes of dust. For thirty bright, brilliant seconds, Lee had shone.

And then his light guttered like a candle burned from both ends run out of wick. The three enemy shinobi remaining took one sharp, shuddering look at those left from Konoha and fled.

Neji and Tenten reacted first and gave pursuit. Naruto couldn't bring himself to move.

Thirty-three dead, more than one kill per second. Lee had never much been one for killing, the biggest obstacle to his ever being the so-called ideal ninja, but there were very few else Naruto would have wanted by his side, would have trusted so well to watch his back in battle.

Thirty-three in thirty seconds. No, Naruto reminded himself. Thirty-four. It was a miracle. It was anything but. The results of hard work and self-sacrifice.

At that moment, fingers going numb and vision blurring from something like rage, something like regret, Naruto wondered idly how long it would take to blink the after-images from his eyes.