rock lee || "drop the guillotine"; do it all the time
Your eyelids habitually grew heavy at around ten in the night-time. Even in your attempts to pull all-nighters and to work hard at your jutsu, you were altogether unsuccessful. Sleep had a vice’s grip on you like some sort of delirium-inducing succubus, leaving you somewhat deranged and out of character when forced awake after a prolonged period of time. In an empty house you didn’t typically encounter this problem, but here you were surrounded by thin walls and injured ninja, each shifting or snoring or accompanied by an EKG machine beeping rhythmically. By default, you found great difficulty in falling asleep near other people, and so you naturally stared at the ceiling with bloodshot, watering eyes.
That was when you started to hear the tapping.
In your weakened mental state, your initial reaction was to assume you were finally losing it, holed up in this tiny, tiny room. But then you started to hear it at a particular time of the night, if you could trust the clock on the wall and its quiet, quiet, insufferable ticking. It ate away at you during the day. To watch the hours pass by was another form of torture. To hear the girl with the acrid voice replace your neighbor’s flowers daily was almost inhumane, her nails rapping against the glass of the vase. But to see the hands of the clock… After a while, you saw the hands of the clock as a window into the pilot’s cockpit of your own personalized hellscape. It was so… paralyzingly, tantalizingly, boring.
As soon as you got out of this place, you swore you would never be early or punctual to an event ever again. To spite the construct of time. To enact vengeance on the hands of this infernal machine.
His tapping was rather staggered. You weren’t sure how long it took for you to realize it was in Morse code, but it was about double that amount of time before you collected yourself and attempted a response.
The message your neighbor sent out nightly was, you assumed, benevolent. You were rather fuzzy at your ciphers, but it would be good practice, right? Trying to write as quietly as possible, you scribbled out a legend for each letter and began your attempt to decode his message. It was kind of clunky, and definitely unreliable, but you found a certain solace in… understanding someone else, even just a little bit.
Feel better soon.
Right; you could now certifiably pin down the source to your neighbor on the other side of the wall your bed rested against. The one with the flowers; she called him “Lee”. You inhaled and exhaled deeply, before covertly pressing a stolen spoon to the wall behind your head. What are you in for?
Complicated, was his response. Heart beating faster than he could tap, you could hear the blood roaring in your ears like a wave pool. God, that was… you hadn’t spoken to someone your age in, what… months? And was he even your age? You had no clue, but for some stupid reason the corners of your lips curved upwards. It was… nice to speak with someone, albeit draining. What about you?
A pause before you responded, and you had to think for a minute. Shrapnel, you hoped he got it right. You could hear him beginning to tap again, and in a moment of sheer panic you tried to elaborate. You couldn’t risk letting your interlocutor not respond. Left side of my chest, you explained frantically, probably fine anyways. Out in a few. Hopeful.
Chunin exams?
No. You hesitated, fingers starting to shake. Other attack. It is fine. I am not in critical condition. Do you plan on retaking them?
His words were excited, fast. You struggled to write it all down. I need to train soon. The nurses say I cannot do much yet, so I am limiting myself to one hundred push-ups per day when I am allowed out.
One hundr—? You withheld the spoon for a moment. Who the fuck were you dealing with?
Hello?
What is your name, you listen with baited breath. Whoever this kid is could compromise your road to swift recovery. In all honesty, you were waiting desperately for the day that you would either die in bed or be let out and waste away into nothing. You just wanted out. But this road you were taking, this path of poor impulse control, would make you… attached. Whatever. You brushed it off. I’m (Y/n).
My name is Lee.
Most of the time, this kid was either snoring or attempting to exercise while bedbound. You found it a bit admirable, to be completely honest. Because of your current condition, getting up in any sense—or merely moving around too much—could cost you several days of consciousness, but he was just kind of… winging it. That took moxie. Maybe it was because he was a ninja already, because he was in ninja training. Something inside of you yearned for that kind of drive, yearned to have a purpose. A reason for the hospital to take care of you. Something… something that made you more than useless.
When he tapped again, it felt so… You didn’t really have the words for how your nervous system reacted to it.
How are you doing?
It’s a simple question but it sends your heart racing. Somebody who was nice enough to pretend to care. You grab your metal spoon and start to tap in response. Same shit, different day. You?
Tired of being in here.
Welcome to the club, and you snicker a little, before continuing with less malice. That was kind of a dick move. You’re not used to being here, I shouldn’t make fun of you.
You’ve been here for a while, then? Something shifts on his side of the wall. Shrapnel doesn’t take that long to heal, I’m pretty sure.
Something tells me I’m more of an expert on this front, Lee.
Right. Another sound, but it’s not a tap. It kind of sounds like he let his head fall back against the wall. Sorry about that. But how are you doing otherwise? I’m lucky enough to get flowers every day from this beautiful girl...
Hospital life is boring. It calls for a certain willingness to subdue one’s internal desire for action and interaction. When you’re bound to a bed, you have to surrender your hope for a future where you can do things even as simple as get up and walk around. But… but it’s okay during times like these, when you can try your best to get to know someone.
The nurse set down your lunch on the table next to your bed, before turning around to get the hell out of there. And you didn’t blame her, you were not the sort of patient who appreciated condescension and you tried your best to make it apparent.
“Um… excuse me, miss?”
She turned and paused, the sort of open-mouthed, pleasant surprise that you didn’t miss at all from being a normal member of society. “Yes? Is there something you need?”
Jerking your thumb over your shoulder, you tilted your head to the side very slightly. “Do you know who’s in the room over there? What’s he in for?”
“Oh…” Her face fell. “That’s Rock Lee. He was in here because he pushed himself too hard during the chunin exams and ruptured parts of his spine. It’s very likely that he won’t be a ninja ever again.”
“Is he in right now?” You tried to keep your expression clear, but she giggled quietly, and you could almost feel your ire begin to resurface, burning its way up your throat. “I asked you a question—um, I mean… I asked you a question, ma’am.” Her eyebrow rose and you swallowed your embarrassment. “Is he in right now?”
Her laughter ceases, and you have no idea what’s causing these rapid mood swings. Good fucking lord, just choose an emotion and keep it all the time. You managed to fill yourself with white hot anger on a daily basis. It’s not like it’s hard. “Well…”
“Give me a straight answer, woman,” you hurled a plastic fork in her direction with a rather weak amount of force. It ricocheted off the wall harmlessly. She didn’t even flinch, instead giggling again.
“Lee is undergoing extremely experimental surgery right now, to correct his spinal fractures. Should be over soon.” Her placid grin made for an odd juxtaposition with what she was saying. “The odds of him surviving are fifty-fifty. But why do you care? I’m pretty sure he has a girlfriend, that Sakura girl who visits him every day.”
“It means nothing to me. I just wanted to know.” That stupid look on her face, mixed with the awkwardness of the tonal shift in your voice made you wish you knew any jutsu just so you could pound her into the abysmal tile of the hallway, add some color to it. “Get out.”
Your nurse complies, the veins on the backs of her hands popping out as she closes the door.
You’re not jealous.
You’re not jealous, because that would be stupid. It would be so… so incredibly stupid, to feel something like that, especially towards someone who you had only known for a few months, now. Especially because of your current condition. Especially because he was the only person who really treated you like another human being. No fake pity, no exaggerated sympathy, no tone shifts that would betray how he actually felt. Just tapping on the wall. Just a guy being himself, no need to keep up false pretenses.
It’s just so pathetic and sad that the first real friend you ever got to have had to… turn into this sort of… it’s so… You hurled your ceramic mug at the wall, watching it shatter and split into dozens of razor-sharp fragments. Sure, you were being a brat about this, but how much of a difference did that make when all anyone ever did was treat you like a child?
Pushing aside your sheets, you got up and started to walk down the hallway.
Tsunade’s assistant looks up at you, and as she barely recognizes you she lets out a small gasp. “Shizune? What is it?” The Hokage sees you standing in the doorway, and her brow creases in response.
You don’t notice it, your vision goes black for a minute. Staggering a little, you cling to the door frame with a small cry, and when life returns to your eyes, the two of them are staring at you, haunted. “Is he gone?” Your question hangs in the dead air like ripped cloth dangling from a root off the side of a cliff, rippling with the wind. “I asked you a question, Lady Hokage. Is he gone?”
The only thing she says is “You should be in bed.” As if you didn’t know that. You roll your eyes, inching closer, still holding on to the wall. “What are you doing walking around?”
That must mean… that must mean he… he didn’t…
He’s gone. The dark bags under both of their eyes, the dejected airs of the room… They lost a patient. That must be it.
So he’s gone.
“Of course,” you scoff to yourself, bitterness rampant in your inconsistent tone. “Of course. I make a friend,” your heart races, “and this hospital takes him away, too. I don’t know what I expected. There’s no use, is there?” The blonde woman seems like she can’t look away from your form, whereas her assistant readies a few knives in between knuckles. Go ahead, make this about yourself, you chastise internally, go blame someone’s death on how useless you are. “There’s no use. Okay, then. I’ll go back.” You limp back to your bed, heartbeat pulsing every time you press your hand to the wall.
By the time you wake back up, there’s a girl by your side that you’re sure you’ve never seen before in your entire life. She smiles like she’s known you for the entirety of yours. Your first instinct is to shoot up, to push her away, but for some reason your body doesn't let you. The girl smiles again, her pink hair falling a little into her face. You scan her face, trying to understand why she would be here. If she’s a new nurse, they should have told her you were a lost cause by now. So why is she here? Why is this pretty girl here, why would she have any reason to be here?
She keeps that awful, awful, benign grin on her face, like she knows how your head is pounding in confusion and anger. This is all just so tiresome. The positive part of living here is dead, now. You shouldn’t have let yourself soften like that, you shouldn’t have let yourself grow blind to reason. You exposed your own weakness. You let yourself care about something and it got ripped away. First your parents, then your health, and now Lee. Now you got someone else involved in your own curse, now you… now you… now… you…
Of course. It was so simple.
Ask.
Ask her. And she’ll tell you. Maybe, just maybe, she’ll give you the answer. Maybe she’s going to tell you that they’re pulling you off life support. Maybe she’s telling you that you’re done for. Maybe she’s here to give you the good news that your life might be—
A shake of the head. Just do it, (Y/n). Just do it.
“Wh… why are you here?” You push yourself up to a sitting position, but she smiles again and pushes you back down.
“Because Lee hasn’t gotten here yet.” So… so she must know him. The blood in your head is going other places. Pooling in your hands, in your feet, gathering in your cheeks, maybe, but not… not to your brain. You let her push you down to a completely horizontal position. “Then I’ll go. You are (Y/n), right?”
“Yes.” No matter how out-of-body you experienced life at any given time, you had been forced to confirm your own name in so many checkups that at no point were you ever light-headed enough to forget it. “Are you… am I dead?”
That was the only sensible option. So why did she laugh? This girl was strange. Very, very strange. Your eyebrows must have furrowed, because hers quirked in response. “No, you’re not dead.” The girl sets down a small plastic cup filled with water very slowly in front of you, on your medical table. “My name is Sakura, by the way. Why would you think that you’re dead?” You remain silent for a moment, sincerely thinking she’s joking—because she has to be joking, right?!—and she begins to look up and grin and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “What, is it because I look like an angel or something—?”
“No,” you cut her off, the back of your hand making smooth, precise contact with the cup as you smacked it across the room. The water splattered across the wall. She flinched. It was of no consequence to you, so you had no similar reaction. “It’s because Lee is dead. So I can’t see him.”
That laugh is such an evil sound, reverberating in your skull without reprieve. You clutch at your ears, hissing a little, and she stops, the raucous laughter dissipating into a quiet giggle like when you hit the water of a stream and the splash turns into an archipelago of tiny bubbles, varying in size and shape as they get smaller and smaller and eventually vanish. A blink of the eyes, and then you refocus. A… stream? Why were you thinking of a stream? It… that imagery was of no consequence to you, either. “Sorry,” Sakura places a hand on your shoulder that for some reason you find yourself too weak to knock off, “but he’s not dead.”
Breath catches in your throat, but she doesn’t hear it. You can’t hear it over the sound of the door opening, the handle turning and the metal inside by the door clicking.
“You’re (Y/n), right?”
“You don’t look anything like I expected,” you murmur. He does look something quite strange, with that green jumpsuit, but it’s still him all the same. He laughs, like he’s nervous. But why would he be nervous? There’s no reason for him to be nervous. “I thought you would be…” You stare a little, a bit too tired to care about how impolite it must seem. “...less vivacious, I suppose.”
He manages to steady himself a little, before sitting on the bed next to you, pretty close. “I get that a lot,” Lee says with a smile wide enough that it looks just about ready to split his face in half.
Neither of you say anything else, but the way he grips your hand says enough.