Zack stepped out of the house, greeted by the cool night breeze. He adjusted the headband that kept his hair tied back and made a few light arm movements to warm up his body. The street was calm, illuminated by a few street lamps and the silver light of the moon. He decided to start his run along the path leading to the center of the village, where the streets were busier during the day but were now almost empty.
Starting at a light pace, Zack focused on his breathing, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. He felt the impact of each step on the ground, the sound echoing rhythmically.
"Five kilometers. Let's keep this steady," he thought, concentrating.
As he ran, he passed some houses that were still lit up. In one of them, a family appeared to be finishing dinner. The mother was picking up the plates while two children played around the table. Zack looked up, feeling a pang of nostalgia for something he'll never have again.
Further ahead, a group of young people chatted around a street lamp. They laughed loudly, apparently without a care in the world. Zack diverted his gaze, refocusing on the path ahead.
"Good thing the village is quiet. Fewer distractions," he murmured to himself as he adjusted his pace.
As he approached the central square, he spotted a ramen vendor closing his stall. The man, looking tired, waved at Zack with a friendly smile. Zack simply responded with a brief nod, not wanting to break his focus.
Now on an incline, Zack felt his legs burning a bit more. He knew he had to confront this type of effort, so he maintained his pace, adjusting his posture to make the climb easier.
"Come on, Zack. This is just the beginning," he encouraged himself, quickening his stride.
When he reached the highest point of the climb, he paused for a moment to catch his breath. From the top, he could see much of the village. The faint lights of the houses, the aligned rooftops, and in the distance, the mountains that surrounded the area.
"They're all down there, living their lives. Meanwhile, I'm up here trying to prepare for something bigger. Something I don't even know what it is yet, but I know I need to be ready."
After a few seconds, Zack descended the hill at a faster pace, feeling the wind hit his face. He passed by some guards making their nighttime rounds, but they barely noticed him, busy with their patrols.
When he finally reached the end point of his run, Zack stopped, placing his hands on his knees and taking a deep breath. His body was sweaty, his heart racing, but he felt the satisfaction of having completed that part of his training.
Zack straightened up, still breathing a bit more rapidly than usual due to the run. He continued down the path leading to the isolated part of the village, where he knew there was a less busy area surrounded by sturdy trees. It would be the ideal place to start his strength exercises without distractions.
As he walked down the narrow trail, the leaves beneath his feet made a soft sound, and the smell of the nighttime vegetation filled the air. The moon, now partially covered by clouds, made the darkness even denser, but Zack knew the path well.
As he approached the more secluded area, he heard a dry, rhythmic sound.
"What is that?" he thought, stopping for a moment to listen.
The noise was unmistakable: something was being struck forcefully. He advanced cautiously, his steps light so as not to alert whoever was there. The sound became clearer with each step, and he realized it was the sound of punches hitting the trunk of a tree.
Upon reaching the spot, Zack found a solitary figure. A young man with black hair and a green headband was delivering rhythmic blows to the trunk of a tree. He wore simple training clothes, but his actions displayed an uncommon dedication. Each punch sent small pieces of bark flying, the sound echoing in the clearing. The boy seemed unaware of Zack's presence, completely focused on his movements.
Zack watched for a moment, intrigued. He noticed that the young man was not only punching but also adjusting his stance with every strike, correcting errors and seeking precision. His movements were quick and calculated, and there was something in his gaze—a steadfast determination, as if each blow carried a promise.
"This kind of effort... This is what I need," Zack thought, feeling a mixture of admiration and determination.
Not wanting to interrupt, he chose a corner of the clearing and began his own exercises. Using his body weight, Zack did push-ups, striving to maintain the correct posture and a steady pace. Each repetition made his muscles burn, but he wouldn't allow himself to stop.
Between sets, he cast furtive glances at the young man. Zack noticed that even without visibly using chakra, the boy was elevating his training to an impressive level just through physical effort and technique.
"He's different... He seems like someone who doesn't rely on special abilities to stand out," Zack reflected.
After finishing his push-ups, he moved on to sit-ups and planks, alternating between exercises to strengthen his core. The presence of the other young man, even in silence, motivated him to give his all.
When he completed a longer set, Zack sat down for a moment, leaning against a tree, watching the boy again. He wondered who he was and what drove him to train with such intensity at that hour.
Zack remained leaning against the tree, catching his breath after his last set of exercises. His eyes returned to the young man with black hair. The boy continued to hit the tree trunk with the same intensity as before, as if there were no fatigue, hesitation, or anything else in the world besides that training.
"He hasn't stopped for a second since I got here," Zack murmured, impressed.
Zack let his gaze wander over the scene. The trunk of the tree that the young man was using as a target showed visible signs of wear. Deep impact marks accumulated in the wood, revealing that this training was not something recent.
"This isn't the work of just a night or two. This kid must have been at it for weeks, maybe even months..." Zack thought as he observed the pattern of the strikes. Each mark seemed strategically positioned, as if the young man were not just hitting the trunk but also seeking to perfect his precision.
The sound of the punches echoed through the clearing. Even from a distance, Zack could note the strength and determination in each movement. He analyzed the boy's stance, the way he adjusted his feet to maintain balance, and how his body moved fluidly, conserving energy.
"He's not just strong. He's persistent," Zack reflected, feeling a growing admiration. "And to think he's out here training so intensely while most people would be resting."
Zack slowly stood up, his muscles still slightly tense from the effort. He decided to take a closer look at the trunk. Walking to the other side of the clearing, he approached the young man carefully so as not to disrupt the flow of the training.
When he got closer, the sight of the trunk surprised him even more. The bark was almost completely stripped away, revealing bare wood filled with deep grooves. In some areas, the trunk appeared to have small cracks, a result of the repeated force of the strikes.
"This guy is pushing the limits of the material's endurance. This isn't something you do in a day or two."
The young man in the green headband continued, as if Zack weren't there. His breathing was heavy but controlled. Sweat dripped from his face, hitting the ground, but he didn't seem inclined to stop. Each punch seemed to carry a clear purpose, an objective that Zack couldn't see but could feel in the intensity of the moment.
"I have a lot to learn," Zack murmured to himself. "If he can do this, then I have no excuse not to push myself harder."
— What are you doing here? Were the others asking you to keep mocking me?
Zack froze on the spot, turning when he heard the young man's voice. He saw the boy in the green headband now looking at him with eyes full of distrust and a hint of pain hidden behind his firm expression.
The question took Zack by surprise. He furrowed his brow, clearly confused.
— Mock you? — he replied, his tone genuine. — I don't even know who you are.
The young man narrowed his eyes, as if trying to assess whether Zack was being sincere or just playing around. He wiped sweat from his forehead with his forearm, maintaining a defensive posture.
— It's always like this — he said, in a tone carrying more exhaustion than anger. — At first, they pretend they don't know, but in the end, they end up laughing, calling me useless or weird for training this way.
Zack crossed his arms, studying the boy for a moment. There was something in that tone of voice he recognized: a mixture of frustration and resignation, like someone accustomed to being underestimated.
— If you want to know what I'm doing here — Zack began, keeping his voice calm —, I was training. Running, strengthening my body, you know? I saw you here and got curious. Your training... It's impressive.
The young man seemed to hesitate, as if Zack's words made no sense to him. He looked at the worn trunk, his eyes avoiding direct contact.
— Impressive? — he murmured, almost mocking himself. — No one thinks that. They just say I'll never be a real ninja because I can't use ninjutsu or genjutsu.
Zack felt the weight of the boy's words. He realized those marks on the trunk weren't just the result of physical training; they reflected an internal struggle, an unyielding quest for recognition.
— Then they don't know what they're talking about — Zack said, his voice firm but laced with empathy. — Because what I saw here today is more determination than a lot of people have in their whole lives.
The boy finally looked at Zack, skepticism starting to give way to surprise. He didn't seem used to hearing words of encouragement.
— Do you really think that? — he asked, hesitation evident in his voice.
Zack shrugged, but his gaze was serious.
— I do. And, honestly, seeing you train made me want to push myself even harder.
The young man regarded Zack in silence for a moment, as if deciding whether he could trust those words. After a beat, he let out a sigh and relaxed his posture a bit.
— My name is Lee. Rock Lee — he said, in a calmer tone.
Zack smiled, giving a slight nod.
— I'm Zack. Nice to meet you, Lee. I think we'll be seeing more of each other around here.
Lee looked at Zack, still distrustful, but there was a different glimmer in his eyes now, as if those words had ignited a small spark of hope.
— Maybe.
Zack gave one last wave before turning to leave. As he walked back home, he couldn't shake Lee from his mind.
As he walked back home, the clearing fading behind him, he couldn't dispel the thoughts about what Lee had said. The words echoed in his mind like a mystery he needed to understand.
"He can't use ninjutsu or genjutsu?"
He frowned, looking down at the ground as he walked through the now silent streets of the village.
"Isn't everyone able to use chakra, even if minimally? Could it be that he can't use chakra at all? Or maybe he has chakra but can't control it... But then again, what if he really has no chakra?"
The idea seemed absurd at first. As long as he could remember, the ability to manipulate chakra had been something natural for anyone, albeit at different levels. But as he pondered, Zack realized that he had seen many people without any ninja power living their lives at the mercy of others.
"Maybe Lee is in that situation. If that's the case, the fact that he's still pursuing the ninja path, even without something as fundamental as the ability to use chakra, is even more impressive."
He lifted his head, staring at the moon partially obscured by clouds. There was something inspiring about Lee's determination, something that made him wonder what else that young man could achieve just through effort and will.
"Tomorrow... I hope he's still training there. I want to see how far he can go."
With that thought, Zack quickened his pace, now fueled by a new motivation pulsing in his heart. Meeting Lee had shown him that true power wasn't always found in innate talents, but in the will to overcome them.