(A/N: Aasdfgh, I dunno. I needed to write something for Lee. I wish it would be better, but it'll do. )

Another. Another. Another.

Rock Lee's fist slammed into the training post, and the sound of the impact rang out like a clap of thunder as a deep fissure split the wood. But he didn't stop, didn't hesitate, before swinging his upper body, pivoting at his waist to bring his other fist in contact with the post, then adjusting his weight and bringing a leg up to do the same. Kick, punch, punch, kick, all in quick succession, each producing another deafening sound until it became a symphony of beats, a dance of attacker and defender, sword and shield, musician and instrument, until there was no longer anything to play, to target.

The post lay in a splintered ruin, and only then did Lee allow himself pause, allow himself a chance to breathe. This was the third one today; his limbs were throbbing, his muscles tired and areas sore from the constant impact, a gash across his knuckles slowly staining his bandages red. He dismissed those feelings. He wouldn't stop now; he couldn't stop now.

When he was younger, he would have to train on days like this through a veil of tears. The frustration of defeat would well up, gathering behind his eyes in a painful pressure before they would finally escape and race down his cheek in waves. His vision would blur, his attacks growing more and more off-target until he finally fell in a heap on the ground. He would lay there, curled in the dirt until the tears stopped, until every feeling of hopelessness, exasperation, and fear had poured out of his body and been soaked up by the earth.

He wasn't like that anymore. No longer did those feelings move through him, unchecked and uncontrolled. He knew them now, knew how to use them, to harness them in other ways. And he did. He fed all of that negative energy into his fists and his feet and the movement of his body against a resisting force. He used it to train, to hone his skills and strengthen his body, to push himself to his limits so that he could surpass such boundaries.

As his breathing slowed to a calm pace, he turned and advanced towards another post, ready to start again. He shifted to his starting stance, released a breath, and began.

Some would call him crazy. Most would think him strange. But this was his way. He may not have the natural talents of Neji or Sasuke. He may not have the endless power of Naruto. He never match their skills. But he was a Genius of Hard-work…

And he would become the best he could be.