Gaara's sand danced around his feet, caressing his ankles and calves like a cat, longing for attention. The grains were rough against his skin, but he was long since accustomed to the sensation; his sand armor felt the same. He did his best to keep it at bay, consciously removing his armor, but the sand itself wasn't listening. Without the protective shell, he felt almost naked. It was this sense of vulnerability that kept the sand close by.

His gourd sat on the other side of the arena, out of the way. Draped over top was his burgundy coat, along with his leather straps and breastplate. If he was going to learn how to fight with his hands, he needed to know how his body would react. The less encumbered he was, the better.

The kazekage untucked the hem of his short-sleeved, fishnet shirt from the waistband of his black pants. The sand became agitated, but he suppressed it. Using it would be counterproductive. He turned his attention to his master, blinking slowly as he watched carefully.

Lee, in his expertise, left the weights secured around his legs. The resistance would provide him with a better workout, and Gaara would have more time to anticipate his blows. This was only practice, after all. Seeing that his sparring partner was ready, he dropped into a fighting stance.

Gaara copied his movements. He watched the leaf ninja, searching for the slightest movement so that he could predict his attack. To test his speed, Lee came at him with a direct kick. The sand at Gaara's feet and blocked the blow.

The kazekage scowled, annoyed at his lack of control over his jutsu. He refocused himself.

Lee came at him again, this time with greater speed. The sand didn't have a chance to adhere itself into a barrier before Lee struck his partner, landing a kick to his right side, against his ribs.

Gaara's sand darted across the ground and created a cushion, catching him when he stumbled from the blow. It started to slip over his skin, but he forced the shield back down. He breathed raggedly for a moment, reorienting himself.

Lee bit back the urge to ask if he was okay. They were sparring; for the moment, Gaara was the enemy. He gave the kazekage just enough time to regain his footing before attacking again. This time, he threw a powerful left hook.

Gaara's hand shot out and caught his fist, his sand circling his forearm in wait. The more he forced it into submission, the slower it had been to react, as though it reluctantly understood his order. He followed through with the counter move Lee had been teaching him, using Lee's momentum to his advantage. The Leaf ninja dropped low to the ground, avoiding Gaara's clumsy swing.

"You must move more quickly," Lee corrected, lunging forward.

Gaara did as he was told, dodging sharply to his right. He struck with his fist, giving Lee a hard blow to the shoulder. To his disappointment, his master hardly flinched.

Over the last few sessions, it became clear that, by relying almost exclusively on his jutsu, the Kazekage had severely neglected his physical strength. He was underweight, as could be seen by his visible ribs. Building up muscle mass would take time. He just had to be patient. While he was more than capable of this, Lee's impatient personality led him to require a host of physical challenges, hoping to speed up the process.

Gaara leaned back, barely managing to evade Lee's quick jab. When his momentum was too much to lift himself back up, he allowed himself to fall, recovering his ground by pushing off with his hands. This placed some distance between the two ninja.

"What is your self-imposed rule?" Lee demanded as he rushed at Gaara, unwilling to let him rest.

"My what?" Gaara rasped. He tightened his stance and swung his leg, hoping to catch Lee off guard.

"What will you do to make yourself stronger? If you lose this match, what will you do?" Seeing that the kazekage still didn't know what he meant, he elaborated, "For example, if you beat me in this match, I promise to do 5,000 sit-ups."

How this man wasn't out of breath astounded Gaara. He was speaking as easily as if they were sitting on a bench. Somehow his ridiculous promise struck Gaara as fact; Lee could, and probably would, carry out such a task.

"No!" Lee corrected himself, jumping into the air. He brought his heel crashing down, a blow which Gaara, thankfully, dodged. Without his sand shield, that could have concussed him. "I will do 5,000 push-ups, instead, and you will sit on my back for added resistance!"

He was absolutely insane. The kazekage nearly told him as much, but a series of punches caught him with his guard down. One sharp blow to the diaphragm had him on his hands and knees, coughing. Sand rushed up his extremities, encasing his injured body.

"Gaara! Are you alright?!" Lee was by his side in an instant. He reached out a hand, but the sand hissed threateningly, suspending itself between him and Gaara.

The red-haired man coughed again, but his breath returned to him. "I'm fine," he said harshly, almost snapping. He was angry with himself. His ultimate defense was, apparently, also his greatest weakness. Even after days of training, his body fell far too easily to direct blows without his armor or defense.

"I think that is enough for today."

"No," Gaara growled, pushing himself back onto his feet. With a good deal of willpower, he forced his shield back to the ground at his feet. "We're doing this again."

Despite the rumors, the kazekage could bleed red. Lee had learned this the hard way when he underestimated Gaara's light frame; he struck a blow that sent the sand ninja flying onto a set of stone stairs. The sand was fast enough to keep his head from taking the brunt of the blow, but the force of impact was enough to make him cough up blood.

Gaara's pale-green eyes were wide with fear – pure, animalistic fear - as he stared down at the blood in his hand. The sand around him reacted harshly, the grains moving against one another to create a dull roar as it whipped into the air.

Lee tried to get to him, but the sand stood in his way. Every time he moved, the jutsu would attack. He knew better than to force his way through. Anxiously, he waited for Gaara to compose himself. It was the only thing that would settle the sandstorm.

Eventually, the grains began to fall, hissing as though in an hourglass. The Kazekage had righted himself and was sitting at the foot of the stairs, his legs crossed. His elbows rested on his knees, and his head was in his hands. Cautiously, Lee took a single step forward, and then another. As he became confident that he was no longer in danger, his pace sped into a run until he was at Gaara's side.

"Please, let me see," Lee prompted, gently placing his hand on top of Gaara's. The sand ninja didn't fight when he moved his hand away, and he even let him lift his chin so that his head wasn't hanging.

He seemed relatively uninjured. A trickle of blood ran down the side of his mouth. For an instant, Lee nearly panicked when he saw the red stains on Gaara's face, but a quick swipe of his thumb assured him that the blood on the kazekage's hand had simply transferred to his head when he held it.

"I'm fine," Gaara insisted for the second time, although his tone of voice lacked the same level of confidence.

"I think that is enough for today." Lee stood and offered him his hand.

Gaara wrapped his fingers around Lee's bandaged palm and allowed himself to be helped to his feet. Reluctantly, he admitted, "You may be right."

It was with a delicate touch that Lee ran the wet washcloth across Gaara's forehead. Although the kazekage had insisted that he could take care of himself, Lee wouldn't relent, insisting that he needed to make up for his mistake.

In the artificial light, Lee realized that he had overestimated the progress Gaara had made over the last few days. It was hard for him to remember that he wasn't like Guy Sensei or even himself, and it was far too easy to forget that his body wasn't used to fighting without his shield. That particular detail had been at Gaara's insistence.

'I can't attack with taijutsu if I don't know how it feels,' he'd claimed.

It was wrong of Lee to assume that Gaara would be able to handle his attacks. His partner insisted that they fight as equals, even though Lee was clearly the master. He'd held back, but not as much as he should have.

This close to the kazekage, Lee could see through the fine mesh of his undershirt. His porcelain skin was marked black, blue, and purple. He'd noticed a few bruises on Gaara's exposed arms, but he didn't think much of it. Now, he realized just how harsh his blows had been.

Guilt-ridden, the Lead ninja's shoulders fell, although he continued to wipe the remaining blood off Gaara's cheek. From his perch on the stool in front of him, Gaara watched him with an unreadable look.

Nervously, Lee busied himself by washing the rag off in the sink. He was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned around, only to see his friend standing behind him.

"You're upset." The harshness of his voice was offset by a slight change in his pitch. Lee knew by now that this small alteration was due to either concern or emotional pain.

"I-" Lee began.

"Don't lie to me." With those words, the authoritative, demanding look returned to his eyes.

"I had not realized you were injured so badly. Had I known, I would not have struck you so hard in our training."

"I told you, I don't want you making allowances."

"Look at yourself." Lee regretted his harsh tone of voice, but there was no going back. "You are covered in bruises. I am worried I may have cracked a rib! Those are not allowances. Those are injuries that could easily have been avoided. There is a difference between holding back and not wanting to hurt you."

Gaara's displeasure shone in his eyes and rested on the thin line of his lips. "I know what I can handle." He was surprised to feel Lee's hands on his shoulders, the weight light and careful.

"If you refuse to do this for yourself, then, I ask you to do it for me. I do not like to see you injured, and I certainly do not want to be the cause. I can train you in taijutsu without causing such injuries. Please, at least until we are able to make you physically stronger."

Gaara's expression became guarded, and Lee's stomach dropped. Seeing that he'd made a wrong move, he realized that he probably shouldn't be touching the incredibly angry man. Before he could move his hands away, the kazekage's brow furrowed, and he looked over his right shoulder.

"Right."

Lee wasn't entirely sure how to interpret his curt response. To his surprise, Gaara's hands clasped his own and moved them off of his shoulders. He lingered for a moment before releasing him.

His voice was quiet, his rough speech sounding almost like a purr. "I should know better."

It was easy for Lee to tell that Gaara was spiraling. The signs were subtle, but, to someone who recognized them, it was a clear cry for help. He was hurtling toward a place of unbridled self-loathing, and Lee refused to let him get there. Impulsively, he reached out and wrapped his arms around the kazekage, pulling him against his chest.

Gaara's forehead pressed into his shoulder, right above his collar bone. He didn't fight against the physical contact, but his arms hung limply at his sides in an awkward state of passive resistance.

Lee placed one hand on the back of his head and laced his fingers in the red hair, his fingertips gently brushing his scalp. With little thought, he tilted his own head so that he could press his lips gently against the tangled mess of hair. He lingered for a moment, becoming nervous when there was still no response.

His heart nearly fell out of his chest in relief when he felt Gaara lift his arms, wrapping them around his waist. Neither of them attempted to move, although Gaara did have to tilt his head downward so that he could breathe. The sound of Lee's steady heartbeat calmed him and helped regulate his own. When he had calmed himself, he chose not to pull away, instead making a conscious effort to speak in an even tone.

"No training tomorrow."

"None at all?" Lee asked in surprise.

"None."

Lee hesitated, weighing his obsessive need to train against his rational mind. After a moment, he nodded. "Alright."