すずらん
Lily of the Valley

When there is blood on your hands, when there is betrayal in your heart, and when home is only a place in your memory, can anything change that? Rock Lee is a traitor. This is where everything goes wrong.

1

I hear the wooden pipe
Fade into the night
A pond full of tears
Dries in the evening sun
"All alone," he said
"Luck of where you're from."
"Luck of the draw," he smiled
He needed to draw the line
His words cut me like a knife
One step behind the door

—Akeboshi, "One step behind the door"

(He was drowning and the surface had ceased to exist.)

Now.

It was like waking up underwater.

He came to awareness to find some sort of liquid sliding down his throat, and in his surprise he inhaled. It burned. It burned in his throat, but it felt even worse as it sloshed down into his lungs. A violent and long fit of coughs made the pain there worse, but did succeed in ridding them of the unwanted liquid.

The hand which had been holding a cup to his lips thudded down unceremoniously. His eyes drawn by this involuntary action—Lee was still utterly confused as to where he was or what he was doing—he looked to it. After a pause, he rubbed one pinky finger rubbed gently at the rough wood surface beneath it. He lifted his free arm to wipe his dampened mouth while his tongue moved, puzzling over the liquid's lingering taste.

Lee blinked as he noticed the size of cup in his hand, his tongue now going still.

Saké? But why—?

At once his head shot up, taking in quick glances at his surroundings. He sat on a barstool, and the sweet smell of alcohol hovered in the air along with the acrid and musky tone of past smoked cigarettes. The faces which looked back at him were wholly unfamiliar, however, so Lee quickly sought out the bartender. He could see him a little ways down the bar, staring at Lee. The man had frozen in place while a shot he was pouring for another customer overflowed and puddled around the glass. Not even the customer noticed this, however, as he was also staring at Lee. Lee frowned, not recognizing the bartender. He wondered why the man was so concerned by what he was doing.

At more glancing around, it became apparent, in fact, that more than half the others in the bar were staring in a similar fashion, with a distinct aura of fear radiating from them.

The bartender came, limping, footfalls thudding unevenly. He stopped a safe and respectful distance away from Lee, making the most humble of obeisance, not even daring to look Lee in the eye.

"Honored guest, does the saké not please you? It is said to be the best we have, but if it is not satisfactory . . . "

Lee looked with a frown at the half-empty glass in his hand, mind whirling with questions. A sick feeling grew in him; this was not the time for that. He knew how he could get when drunk and it didn't take all that much for him to become so. If he didn't make a fast exit now, there wouldn't be a bar left for anyone to drink at in another half an hour. Even worse, Lee knew, he could injure somebody. The bartender was still speaking, however, and, if Lee was to say, was now trembling slightly.

"I only need a little time—"

"Sir," Lee said, knowing he couldn't wait to listen, "I apologize for interrupting, but have I paid already?"

"What?" The bartender seemed surprised. By what, Lee couldn't tell.

"Have I paid for my drinks?" Lee said, pumping more urgency into his tone. Any moment now—

"I, uh, uh—" The bartender was shaking more. "Why, yes, yes, honored guest! Everything is on the house."

Lee blinked, scratching at the back of his head. "I see. Well, uh, thank you, fine sir, for allowing me to drink with you tonight. I must be going, however." Unable to help himself, Lee gave the bartender a cheerful thumbs up, striking the famous "nice guy" pose which was a favorite of both himself and his sensei, Might Guy. It was sure to take the quivers out of this poor bartender, whatever was wrong with him. "Be sure to keep hold of your youthfulness! It is your most valuable asset."

So saying, Lee jumped from the stool, finding the room already spinning dangerously around him and his thoughts floating murkily. It wouldn't take long now before the saké took complete hold. He hit the floor running, and dashed out into the street. Muddy colors wavered and melted into each other.

What was he doing again?

Shoulders sagging, his whole body becoming relaxed, a drunken blush crept over Lee's face along with a smile. He had just thought of this great new taijutsu move; he had to show it to Guy-sensei. But where was he? Lee was so impatient to show him. Guy-sensei was sure to be impressed. His head flopped back and forth, searching for pure green, just the color of Guy's spandex suit. At some length, Lee spotted something that he concluded was Guy. Just outside the village limits was a very green, not too large tree. Its leaves were the color of Guy's green spandex—Lee should know, he was usually sporting the same clothes. As far as Lee was concerned while under the affects of the few drops of alcohol he'd swallowed, that tree had to be Guy. With a playful whoop, he went racing off to show his teacher.

Lee's next lucid thoughts came to him about the sky. It wasn't much surprise, considering that he was lying on his back looking up at it. His thoughts went from something like, "I'll show you, Neji, I will be the better chef! Clouds, fuel my youthful endeavor!" to, "Why am I laying here?"

It was, after all, a much more Nara Shikamaru thing to do, this business of staring at the sky.

Clearly, getting entirely back to normal would be a slow process. Lee blinked sleepily, tossing his head back and forth a few times. The action only earned him a shot of pain, coming from behind his eyes. He brought a hand up to massage his temples.

Now that he considered it, his whole body hurt. With all the pain it was hard to figure out what wasn't complaining. After a bit of stiffly shifting around, Lee found that most of the pain in his back was to be blamed on the numerous sticks and bare rocky ground he was laying on. Lee sat up, every vertebrae in his back popping unhappily. He grimaced, then began twisting his upper body into various positions to stretch out the kinks.

Once that was done, he remembered the bar. It hadn't been too clear to him where he was then. Maybe he could figure it out now. He set about to rubbing his sore muscles while examining his surroundings.

"Oh."

There was destruction all around him. The branches under him, Lee now realized, were actually part of a freshly fallen tree, its leaves still stiff and green.

However, no village, or bar for that matter, was anywhere in sight. Instead he was surrounded by many other trees like the felled one, some lying in creamy white and brown splintery pieces. Others, which were void of leaves and had presumably been dead awhile before the destruction, were more or less shattered to bits—any larger chunks of dead wood were sporting dents in them.

"I guess I did that," Lee smiled sheepishly to himself. He turned to examining his hands and arms, and found more evidence of his conjecture: torn clothes and splinters embedded in his skin; some small, some rather large, not to mention painful. He didn't get ones this bad from the old training stands, but a lot of this had been fresh wood, easily splintered and not the least bit rotten or softened by rain.

Lee pulled the worst of the splinters from his arms. He would remove any others, of course, but only after he determined what was going on. Clambering to his feet, he glanced down and gasped sharply.

Dark stains, beginning on his abdomen, had taken over the front of his clothes—where the heck had his flack jacket gone to, anyway?—and had traveled down his legs, even onto his sandals. Worriedly he felt around on his stomach, trying to discern the injury, but he discovered nothing but sore muscles. The stains were stiff, and Lee knew it was blood. Nevertheless, it didn't seem it was his.

"Where . . . could this have come from?" Lee whispered. It was like someone had bled out right on top of him. He grimaced—a sickening thought. Even as a Chūnin, Lee disliked killing, and the aftermath just as much, even if it was in his job description. He couldn't imagine what situation would drive him to leave his garb such a wreck. Part of youthful living was to ensure his appearance was faultless and presentable to the non-warrior. And this was definitely not presentable.

He began to search his surroundings, particularly interested in finding the source of this ugly stain. No doubt they were dead and there was nothing he could do for them, but it horrified him to think that this might have happened to someone who had chanced upon the area while Lee was drunk. A wave of nervousness washed over him, making his blood rush. He had to be certain of the victim's identity. Some sort of missing-nin or enemy; it had to be. He would never have attacked an ally or an innocent, even when drunk. Lee's thick eyebrows furrowed. Would he?

He shook his head furiously. That was nonsense, but there was a small part of him that would fret until he knew.

He found that the area of fallen trees came to an end either in untouched woods or grassy meadows. No one else seemed to be in the area, dead or otherwise. Besides the giant, well-dried stain on his green suit, Lee found no traces of blood in the area, save, of course, small amounts of what was most likely his own on the various pieces of wreckage.

The stain on his clothes was really too old to go with this spurt of destruction, he finally decided. He felt relief until the idea presented even more pressing questions: what was going on? How had this stain happened, and when? Was he also drunk at the time?

He clenched his hands, eyebrows furrowing even more. If he had done this to any sort of ally or innocent, he could never forgive himself—he just couldn't remember. Lee forced himself to keep his cool, starting with a steady breath. Just because he didn't remember did not automatically mean he had done something horrible.

He had to close his eyes, and think back about this calmly and rationally, like Neji-san would. Admittedly, it wasn't Lee's strong suit, no thanks to hanging around Guy-sensei and copying his every mannerism. Contrary to what some people might have thought, Lee was aware that Guy-sensei's behavior was rarely reasonable. Lee even got the impression that even Guy-sensei knew it as well.

He grinned to himself. He probably should have been be bothered by that aspect of Guy-sensei, but he wasn't. He had found that thinking without rationality afforded one a certain freedom in their dreams, in their beliefs, and in their feelings, while those who were always rational about everything were trapped by it. Neji was incredible at staying calm and using logic, but Lee knew that the white-eyed Hyūga had felt caged for the longest time; did still feel caged. The facts were that Neji was caged—the Curse Seal was supposedly restrictive on his abilities—but because Neji was so logical about it, often times he couldn't see past that problem. If the Hyūga had been irrational like Lee, then the Curse Seal wouldn't have bothered him so much. Anyway, that was what Lee believed.

That was why dwelling in irrationality was better. One just had to stop himself and think when he needed it. There was, Lee thought with pride, something ironically rational about this sort of take on life.

Selecting a log with enough left of it to sit on, Lee crossed his arms and legs, trying to think back to the last thing he had been doing.

There was something about a mission—before the bar.

There was Tenten, standing. She had a scroll unrolled in her hands, a map of some sort, and he and the rest of Team Guy were looking over her shoulders. Guy's voice was speaking, he was pointing to various positions on the map.

He should be in this area.

Tenten was rolling up the scroll again. She smiled back at them, her elegant eyes crinkling happily. Her expression when her eyes fell on Lee seemed motherly and warm. Of course, they had known each other for years now, watching each other grow, and while it couldn't be said that they were joined at the hip, they couldn't picture being on a team with anyone else. They trusted each other.

Ready?

He's skilled, but old.

I have confidence in our abilities to take him. Done in a week, tops.

Let's go!

They left the gates of Konoha together calmly. It was a mission, and they had been on many. They knew the routine and needed little prompting. The gate keepers waved at them as they passed. . . .

So then . . . perhaps he was still on this mission. It would explain things. Except that his lack of memory was distressing. What had happened to him? Lee pursed his lips as he observed the destruction around him. Perhaps he had been in that bar for a reason. Some sort of reconnaissance? It didn't explain where the rest of Team Guy was at the moment. If they had been waiting for him to return, he would think they would have caught on to the fact that he had left the bar in a strange state and gone off on his own—leaving rampant destruction in his wake.

He sat on the log for a while longer, puzzling over the problem. Then, thinking about standing up and moving on from here, seeing as there were no further clues to be found, he wriggled his toes. The redness on them was caked and flaking. His eyes were drawn to the area around his feet, then after that to the area around the log he was sitting on. A spot of blue caught his gaze. Surrounding it was a mess of dry matted grass—a nest—with gray-blue feathers trapped in various places.

Lee rose, feeling remorse. He had probably displaced this nest. Perhaps it had been abandoned already; there didn't seem to be a parent bird around, but . . .

Lee crouched to examine the nest. The egg that had drawn his attention was smooth and unbroken. It was cold when Lee put his fingers to it. Infertile, perhaps? Lee further examined the nest, he lifted it from the ground a bit, noting how round and deep the cavity of the nest was.

There was something under the nest. He lifted it a bit higher. Feathers and dull pink skin greeted him. The bird was dead, cold like the unhatched egg, eyes shut. It was a baby, unable to fly.

Frowning, Lee gathered the bird in one hand. He looked at it, then stroked the gray feathers briefly. It was light, almost nothing in his hand.

"Poor thing," Lee said quietly. "I guess this was my fault."

He stared for another moment, then reached into a pack on his leg, pulling out a kunai. He walked a little ways from the nest, looking for a suitable spot. Finally, falling to his knees, he shoved the kunai into the ground, his strength allowing him to easily pull up the earth, bringing up the smell of dampness. He continued until a suitably sized hole was dug. He laid the bird in it, and then put his hands together, bowing slightly.

"I apologize for the mistake; I did not mean you harm."

He pushed the earth back over the bird, rising. With a sigh, which became an air of resolution as he tucked the kunai back into his pouch, he headed off to track his way back to the village.

It was high time he found his team.

While I would have preferred to wait until finished to begin posting this, at 140,000 words I have found myself stalled. This story is my baby, nearly three years in the making now, and I don't want to give it up. It's all born from the single question: "What would cause Rock Lee to betray Konoha?" Time setting is series canon, sometime before the Pain/destruction of Konoha arc, though most of Shippūden is irrelevant, except where this story itself begins to diverge from canon's general set-up. I plan to keep these updates slow, maybe once every three to four weeks, which should give me plenty of time to get that kick-start I'm seeking. See you all on the other side—though, like most authors, I'd love to hear from you before then. CC, error corrections or suggestions welcome. :) I'd like to thank Lellian for beta-ing about half the entire story and giving me a great deal of encouragement and helpful characterization advice, and Night-Mare-Chan for being my muse and idea-bouncer throughout. Any mistakes remaining are of course, my own.