A flash of green flickered through the lush, rustling bushes.
— Is this really normal? Does this really happen to everyone? Am I really not losing my mind? Wait, what's real-real and what's not? Damn it, why didn't I just die? Why did I end up in some random, unfamiliar body?!
In a simple room with wooden floors and shelves lined with real kunai and shuriken, a young boy, around twelve years old, sat on a futon in the seiza position. His jet-black hair, tied in a ponytail, gleamed under the light. But even more striking were his thick, dark eyebrows and unusually round eyes with visible lower lashes, which trembled slightly, giving him an almost comical expression. He wore a white kimono-style shirt paired with dusty pants, clearly marking him as someone who preferred traditional attire.
— I remember it clearly… A heavy wardrobe fell on me…
The boy mumbled under his breath as the last memories of his past life flashed through his mind.
Since childhood, he had been fascinated by martial artists in movies and cartoons—Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, Jet Li, Bolo Yeung, and many other actors and warriors who inspired him to train relentlessly. He wasn't particularly talented, but he worked tirelessly, pushing himself to the limit… until fate took a cruel turn.
One weekend, while practicing karate moves in his room, he accidentally struck an old wardrobe that had always been too sentimental to throw away. The worn-out piece of furniture wobbled for a moment before crashing down on him, leaving him stunned and unconscious—only to wake up in someone else's body.
There was only one logical conclusion: never exercise at home!
— My hands… My hands… So thin, calloused, and small! And my voice—why is it so high-pitched?!
His throat tightened as he examined his hands, illuminated by the golden morning sunlight streaming through the open window. His muscles ached as if he had been beaten with sticks and then run over by a bulldozer. But he quickly adapted to the pain—after all, he had often pushed himself to the brink during training, feeling his bones creak under the strain.
"Alright! Get it together!"
Slapping his cheeks, the adult in a child's body stood on shaky legs, closed his eyes, and exhaled.
A true martial artist must remain calm in any situation.
"First, I need to see what I look like. Then, I need to figure out where I am. No premature assumptions—who knows, maybe I'm in enemy territory, a prisoner of war? Though… the kunai and shuriken lying around suggest otherwise. Something's off here… But still, jumping to the conclusion that I've been isekai'd seems a bit—"
His train of thought was violently derailed by a sudden mental collapse. It felt as if someone had dropped an information bomb directly onto his brain.
His very soul trembled as foreign memories flooded his mind.
A defective oddball in his class—this was how Rock Lee was seen by everyone around him. A boy who could never become a proper shinobi in a world where children were trained from an early age to be cold-blooded killers. He endured insane training sessions and constant depressive thoughts about his inability to use Ninjutsu or Genjutsu. And on top of that, he suffered relentless humiliation from his peers for being weak.
Rock Lee had no choice. He was never given one.
In the end, he couldn't take it anymore.
Desperate to prove that Taijutsu alone could make him a great shinobi, he pushed himself too hard… and drained every last drop of life from his body.
— Lee! You were a true warrior! Ignoring your dream would be an insult to your memory! I'll master Taijutsu in your place! I'll achieve everything you fought for! That's a promise!
Clenching his fist over his heart, the reincarnator didn't hold back a deep sigh or the tears that threatened to fall. Why should he? He had never imagined that a character from Naruto had endured so much pain before flashing his iconic, confident grin as the Green Beast of Konoha. Lee's memories deeply moved him.
As a kid watching the adventures of the hyperactive blonde ninja, he had never paid much attention to the deeper struggles of the side characters—their hardships, failures, and obstacles on the path of a shinobi. They had meant nothing to him back then.
But now, things were different.
Because now… he was Rock Lee.
Lee's fate was now his fate.
[Ding~!]
A sharp ringing noise echoed in his ears, making him flinch. His body tensed, scanning the room as a tingling sensation spread through his temples. But nothing seemed out of place—until a robotic voice spoke in his mind:
[Loading the Infernal Training System. Initializing interface: 1%… 5%… 15%… 30%… 60%… 80%… 95%… 100%...]
"What the hell?"
[Name: Rock Lee]
[Shinobi Rank: Academy Student]
[Health: 100%]
[Stamina: 90%]
[Chakra: 100%]
[Taijutsu Rank: C]
[Ninjutsu Rank: —]
[Genjutsu Rank: —]
[Inventory: Empty]
[Hellish Training List: 1]
In just one second, a holographic interface appeared before his eyes, displaying various statistics and rankings. The words "Hellish Training List: 1" strongly hinted at the system's purpose.
"God… I've been isekai'd, I have a system, and I'm stuck in the body of a loser who can't use Ninjutsu or Genjutsu… This is the most cliché nonsense ever!"
A shiver ran down his spine.
Then again, who was he to refuse a built-in cheat?
After all, while the original Rock Lee was undoubtedly a great shinobi, even the Eight Gates hadn't been enough against Gaara, the One-Tail Jinchūriki.
Though, to be fair… he always thought that the Naruto manga's author had deliberately sacrificed Lee just to highlight Gaara's monstrous power.
— Alright… First things first, let's see what these "Hellish Exercises" actually are. I have a feeling the whole system revolves around them…
Muttering under his breath, he spoke the command aloud. When nothing happened, he tried again, this time mentally.
Thankfully, the system responded:
[Hellish Training List: 1]
[Perform 10 push-ups]
[Reward: Bronze Chest]
"Pff, that's way too easy."
He smirked.
If only he knew… what kind of sadist had designed this merciless system.