After seeing Lee's fight with Gaara and his memories of being a dropout, I couldn't help but cry. It inspired me to like him more and even make an angst/general oneshot for him. Oh and by the way, this is placed before Lee was youthanized by Gai (or so I call it.)

Italics are flashbacks.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

The Rhythm in Hardwork

'Even though I can't use ninjutsu or genjutsu, I want to work hard to become an excellent ninja!'

That was the goal he set out for himself, a promise that wouldn't be broken. No matter what others thought of him, Rock Lee, one of the few in this power-driven world who isn't able to concentrate their charka to even do a simple Bushin no Jutsu, will exceed them all. It's because, he's a genius,

a genius of hardwork.

He was a dropout, an academy student that was little to nothing in ninjutsu and genjutsu and even back then, a thick-browed eight year old with under-average taijutsu skills. What kind of ninja was he? An inferior ninja? Was he a new breed of ninja, ones that were shunned and scoffed at for their nonexistent skills? What was he? Was he born this way? Who was he...really? Lee had asked himself these questions each evening, while walking home from the academy, bruised and dishelved, but a droned expression was always etched on a porcelain face. Wide onyx orbs reflected every echoing laughter and immoral smirk that stabbed at his beating heart, the rhythm of it slowly fading, fading into barren silence. He knew if he didn't keep his promise that was set miles before him, his heart…

would stop beating.

Lee never goes back on his word.

-+-

An eight year old Lee clad in a green Chinese style jacket and brown pants that reached just above his ninja sandals, huffed and panted as he ran laps around the academy with his classmates in tow. The solid dirt ground felt softer as more dust fogged their visions and familiar trashcans, trees – their usual landmarks became mentally expected. Lee watched as his legs mechanically paced, the left one before the right.

"Come on, do your best!" Their shaggy navy-haired sensei hollered from his post next to the steel-wired fence, his sunken orbs stalking the oncoming stampede. "I'm going to add an additional two hundred laps!"

At that warning, the crowd of boys kicked their legs rigorously, their constant pants leading their weary paces into a slowly fading rhythm. Lee wore a determined expression, his bushy brows furrowed as his saucer-like eyes stared distantly forward. One thought repeated itself like a broken tape recorder: 'I will finish the laps!'

A silver-haired boy in front of him looked behind his shoulder, only to find the determinedly scrunched up face of Rock Lee. He stifled a boastful laugh. "Baka! You can't become a ninja!"

This caused a single chain reaction as an orchestra of laughter overpowered the chirping birds and the whispering trees. It felt as if their howls of enjoyment shook the ground underneath them. Lee could feel his jaw tighten and his hands clench into small fists. "I can!" He cried, kicking his legs forward.

"A guy who can't use ninjutsu or genjutsu can't become a ninja!" A brunette retorted, joining the foul game that was reluctantly played each day.

"I can!" He cried again, his tone less vigor this time.

The silver-haired boy looked back at him, a vile smirk written on his taunting face. "Actually, it makes no sense why a guy like you is in this ninja academy when you can't use ninjutsu or genjutsu and possess below average taijutsu skills."

He silently bit his lip, vainly ignoring another wave of laughter. He heard their voices, the voices of blood-thirst demons, his demons. He heard them laugh and snicker, their voices high and low, cold venom trailing out of fanged sneers. The mop-top's knuckles bore a pale white and his lips adorned a scarlet red, but his legs hesitantly kept their pace, the left one before the right.

Rock Lee will finish the laps.

He never loses faith. That's a promise.

"Do you know what you're called around here?" A blue-haired boy questioned, bumping shoulders with him.

The boy wasn't taken back by the subtle question, he already knew the answer. It was one word, one that had fragmented his life, one that had weaved a concrete barrier, pushing him farther from his goal. It, was the one word he hated.

"Hot-blooded!" The demons roared.

Lee felt his pace quicken, the soles of his sandals pounding brutally into the innocent dirt floor. He felt his pulse's constant rhythm, beating in his ears, blocking every other sound, except for the conspiracy that haunted him.

"Hot-blooded!" They recited the mantra again, blocking the mop-top from his escape.

The word echoed in his head, whispering over and over again. It rang, screamed, in his ears, mocking him once more. The air around him felt suffocatingly heavy. He couldn't breathe, his throat was taintingly dry as if someone had an iron grip around his neck. It felt as if that one word was slowly killing him.

It was.

As Lee stared wide-eyed at the sneering monsters, a pitiful glint illuminated their orbs. He felt as if the dam he had built had shattered, washing away everything he had worked for – everything he believed. Before, when he secretly trained by himself, to prove everyone wrong, to prove his way of the ninja, he would ruthlessly suffer blood-drenched scars, a red river dripping through pale knuckles. He wouldn't mind the pain, it only marked how closer he was to his goal, but it was different this time. This time, Rock Lee hated the pain. He felt so vulnerable, like a mouse hiding in a hole, traumatized with fear. He could feel it all. He could feel his body shake uncontrollably, his hands mechanically balling up into fists and extending back outwards. He could feel onyx orbs shift from one spot to another, his chin quiver and shake, and the hollow silence of a skipped beat. It felt as if, a kunai was lodged into his heart.

This is Rock Lee. This isn't Rock Lee.

"Hot-blooded drop…"

'No…that's…NO THAT'S NOT TRUE!' Lee screamed, but no words came out, only the taunting whimpers of tantalizing fear were heard. This fear, the one sensation he knew more than anything else was eating at his heart.

He felt his legs begin to buckle and his quivering body ready to collapse, collapse in terror. 'No…don't say it…' That was the last straw. As if he was the victim of Shintenshin no Jutsu, Lee did something he thought he would never do:

He ran away.

The mop-top had shut his eyes tight and covered his ears as he sped off, acting not of a shinobi, but as a desperate child. It didn't matter where he was going, as long as he had escaped his nightmare. The child couldn't hear or see anything, he was alone in his own world. Even as he ran, his sandals sinking deeper into the dirt floor, Lee was running away, away from all his problems, demons that have haunted him. Silence, empty silence, it was sheer bliss. That was all he could hear, except for the lone whispering rhythm of a bleeding heart…

his bleeding heart.

"Lee, get in line!" His sensei called after the fugitive. "Lee!"

Silence was his reply.

He never came back.

-+-

Lee realized that day, as he ran into the forest, driven by his own lack of self-esteem, he didn't want that life, the life of a scurrying mouse. He wanted to live his life as a shinobi, one who followed their own way of the ninja, his own way of the ninja. Lee doesn't want to hesitantly hide behind others, others who had scoffed and sneered at his inferiority. He doesn't want others, his demons looking down at him, their fanged smirks barred with requiem. The dropout wanted blood-stained fists blocking kunai and shuriken, washing away the pitiful memories of his once shaking hands. He wanted to prove his worth, to feel his adrenaline rushing, his heart beating out of ambition. He had never worn a mask, shielding his fear from watchful eyes, and he never will. It didn't make him feel naked, the unveiled truth etched in porcelain skin. The boy isn't afraid to let everyone know how he feels, because Lee will be Lee. The fugitive will face them, his demons, and fight them as a shinobi, one who had shattered the concrete barrier and kept his promise. He will become an excellent ninja. That, was his redemption.

The dropout won't run away any longer.

-+-

"396, 397, 398, 399, 400, 401, 402, 403. If I can't finish kicking the log five hundred times, I'll have to do one thousand squats!" The boy huffed, bringing his leg back and forth, assaulting the rugged exterior of a tree trunk. "413, 414, 415, 416..."

He'll never fall, he'll stand up again…

"One thousand squats! If I can't do them, I'll have to do two thousand punches!" A determined Lee declared through gritted teeth, luminous crystals drenching the now dewy grass.

and again…

"Two thousand punches! If I can't do them, I'll have to jump rope two thousand times!"

because when he falls, he'll hear silence…

The rhythm will stop.

-+-

"196, 197, 198…" An exhausted Lee huffed, ignorantly putting aside the throbbing pain in his left appendages as he pushed himself up. "I have to do two hundred pushups! Just one more…"

He heard the shrill screams of a nurse as a curtain of beige cloth velveted his blurry vision. They whispered silent words to each other and gazed down at the limp figure on the ground, but all he saw as he looked up at their faces were silent moving lips and blank hollow stares. He felt numb. Why did he feel so numb? Of course he knew why. Rock Lee felt his skin brush against the dirt floor, sending chills through his almost lifeless corpse. His face was cushioned with brown velvet and his arms and legs laid limply astray. He didn't speak or move. All he did was stare at the white monster wrapped around his left arm with blank onyx orbs. Lee was a pitiful sight. He never made it to two hundred.

'When did the ground become so cold…?'

'When they told you that you couldn't live the life of a shinobi anymore…' Whispered a sickening voice that he found out to be his own.

Lee felt his heart skip a beat…

but the rhythm never stopped.