The crowd of Leaf shinobi watching from the doorway felt their hearts skip a beat. To avoid getting dragged into the fallout, they scattered in every direction, fleeing the tavern as fast as their legs could carry them.
The tavern owner, a portly middle-aged man with a protruding belly, chased after them, hollering for his money. "Hey! Don't you run off! You haven't paid the bill yet! I'll report every single one of you to the Hokage Building, I swear!"
Asuma took a sharp breath, ignoring the fleeing crowd. His face was a mask of worry. "I really hope this doesn't turn into a disaster."
He had seen the look on Hayama Shirakumo's face. He couldn't help but break into a cold sweat over the severity of Tatsuhiko's condition. After all, he was the one who had proposed the match. If something happened to the boy, Asuma would be held responsible—and his old man, the Third Hokage, would certainly skin him alive.
Lee retracted his fist and let out a long breath. Hearing Asuma's anxiety, he offered a calm reassurance. "Don't worry too much, Asuma-sensei. I only used about fifty percent of my strength. At most, he'll just need a few days of bed rest at the hospital."
Asuma blinked, looking at him with equal parts confusion and suspicion. "Lee, are you serious? But Hayama's reaction..."
Lee was a bit puzzled himself. He knew he had perfectly controlled the power of his Heart-Piercing Elbow. While it looked devastating, it should have only caused minor internal vibrations—the kind that makes your chest ache but doesn't actually break anything. A Jonin like Hayama Shirakumo should have been able to see that.
Besides, Lee had assessed Tatsuhiko's physical constitution before striking. That level of attack was nowhere near lethal.
Lee walked straight over to Tenten and collected the fifty thousand Ryo from the table. He stuffed the cash into his wallet and tore the written contract into pieces, finally allowing himself a sigh of relief.
"Lee, you were incredible!" Tenten's eyes were sparkling with curiosity. "Guy-sensei said you've reached a level called the 'Balance of Hard and Soft.' Is that an effect of your Bloodline Limit?"
Lee was slightly taken-mouthed by the term, but he recovered quickly.
His combat style indeed differed greatly from the original Rock Lee's. He wasn't just blindly chasing speed and aggression. This went back to his very first life on Earth, when his parents had sent him to learn traditional martial arts to strengthen his body. Over several years, he had studied the forms of Tai Chi, Jeet Kune Do, Baguazhang, and Tongbeiquan. At the time, he only understood the "shapes" of the moves, not their "intent." In a peaceful modern society, it was impossible to achieve true mastery.
It wasn't until he transmigrated to the world of One Piece and survived countless life-and-death battles that he slowly integrated those ancient styles into a cohesive combat system of his own.
The original Lee and Might Guy utilized the Strong Fist—a rigid, powerful style that crushed opponents through sheer speed and force. Lee had simply layered his own martial arts techniques over that foundation. To an observer, it looked like a seamless blend of "hard" and "soft" power—grace within strength, and strength within grace.
He didn't think he'd truly mastered the "Balance of Hard and Soft" yet; he was still a few steps away from perfection.
"You could say that," Lee replied.
Tenten looked energized, her expression full of envy. "I wonder if I have a Bloodline Limit too," she muttered to herself.
Lee didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Just then, Asuma stepped in to confirm once more: "Lee, are you absolutely sure you held back?"
"Could there be any complications? I saw Tatsuhiko coughing up quite a bit of blood!" Asuma's brow remained furrowed, his nerves still on edge.
Lee rolled his eyes. "Believe what you want."
Seeing that Asuma was still skeptical, Lee ignored him and waved toward Neji and Tenten. "Let's go back inside and eat. I'm starving."
Half an hour later, Might Guy rushed back into the tavern. He found the five of them still enjoying their meal.
Asuma, who was currently nursing a small cup of sake with a cigarette dangling from his lips, tensed up the moment Guy appeared. "Guy! How's the kid? Is he in danger?"
Guy looked uncharacteristically gloomy as he sat down. "When we got to the hospital, Tatsuhiko was already awake. The doctors said it's nothing serious, though he needs a few days of observation. He suffered some minor internal tremors, but that's about it."
Asuma exhaled a massive cloud of smoke, but then a realization hit him. "If the injuries were that light... wasn't Hayama's reaction a bit much?"
The group shared a confused look. It didn't add up.
Then, Asuma's eyes widened. "That old fox! He looks so refined and scholarly on the outside, but I didn't realize he was this devious!"
"Devious?" The students tilted their heads in unison.
Asuma explained his theory. Hayama might have been genuinely worried when he first saw the blood, but after a quick check, he must have realized the injury was minor. He seized the opportunity to exaggerate the situation so he could grab his students and flee.
It was a clever move. Anyone with eyes knew Lee had won. By making the injury look life-threatening, Hayama avoided the wrath of the angry ninjas who had lost money betting on Tatsuhiko. Drunk shinobi aren't exactly known for their rational behavior; they could have easily caused a scene.
Somewhere in Konoha, those fleeing ninjas were likely still trembling, worrying if they'd just witnessed a murder.
"Hahaha! That sounds like Hayama alright," Guy laughed, his mood improving instantly. "Anyway, don't worry about it! Asuma, save a bottle of that sake for me!"
That afternoon, after the celebration ended, Lee sought out some construction workers in the village to come and assess the repairs for his home.
When the workers arrived and saw the state of the house, they were visibly shaken. There were massive craters in the walls from punches and kicks, and several of the main support beams looked ready to snap at any second.
"Lee... the degree of damage here is very high," the lead worker said, scratching his head.
Lee's heart tightened. "How much will it cost?" he asked tentatively.
"You're looking at five hundred thousand Ryo, minimum."
Lee's face turned pale. "Uncle, can't you give me a discount?"
The foreman sighed. Seeing that Lee was an orphan living alone, he felt a twinge of pity. "Alright, kid. I'll give you the 'orphan discount.' Four hundred and fifty thousand Ryo. It'll take about a month to finish."
Lee handed over his remaining savings—exactly one hundred thousand Ryo—as a deposit. He promised to pay the remaining three hundred and fifty thousand upon completion.
For the rest of the day, as the workers began their preparations, Lee grabbed a single bottle of sake from the wreckage and headed toward the Konoha forest.
"You kept me waiting," Neji said, his voice laced with annoyance.
"Sorry, sorry," Lee offered a wry smile. "I have something to ask. Very busy?"
"Just say it," Neji replied coolly. "I have things to do."
Lee rubbed the back of his neck. "Remember that time at the BBQ shop? When I accidentally mistook sake for a soft drink and... well, went a bit wild?"
Neji stiffened. The memory of the "Drunken Lee" incident made his skin crawl. Most people just get rowdy when they're drunk; Lee, however, became a force of nature. He was utterly psychotic, and there was no stopping him.
Back then, if Guy-sensei hadn't been there to suppress him, Neji and Tenten wouldn't have stood a chance. As far as Neji knew, Guy had to pay over two hundred thousand Ryo just to cover the damages to the restaurant. That was how terrifying Lee's drunken stupor was.
Lee pulled out the bottle of sake and waved it in front of Neji's face.
Neji flinched, his throat going dry. He stared at the bottle in shock. "What do you think you're doing?!"
Lee grinned. "I've been experimenting lately. I'm trying to find a way to control that explosive power I have when I'm drunk. But since the experiment is a bit... unpredictable, I need someone to keep an eye on me."
"Unpredictable?" Neji scoffed, stepping back. "I'm more worried about my own safety. The answer is no."
"Come on, Neji!" Lee pleaded. "Are you saying our bond is that weak?"
"The bond is fading," Neji deadpanned.