Dandeion Milk: SakuLee

Once upon a time, a classmate told Lee to put dandelion milk in his tea. Said it'd be sweet.

It wasn't.

Lee had been eleven. He was by most measures a failure, and he was never well-liked. His classmates saw him as a loser, and rejection was a thing he'd long grown used to.

It was just another obstacle to overcome.

That was how he saw his life, after all: just one long list of things to overcome. He was an optimist, but most people didn't realize that only a part of it was his natural cheer. True, Rock Lee was happy kid, and a deeply caring, sincerely good child in ways that nobody else was, but he also was smart, and he also was realistic. That is why he gave up on ninjutsu and genjutsu. He held no false ideals of perfecting skills he was doomed to fail at.

But it was also this realism that helped him to understand that if he did not hope with all of his being, he would lose himself.

Once upon a time, a classmate told Lee to put dandelion milk in his tea. Said it'd be sweet.

It wasn't.

Poor Lee, however, would've done it a million times over if his peers kept telling him to. That was the way he was. Lee trusted without doubt; to him, there were no such things as evil people, just evil influences and evil actions. Nothing that couldn't be redeemed, and nothing that should be judged before one really knew about it. He believed in second chances and the good of human nature, in the power to defeat impossible odds and that karma really did reward those that worked hard and did well with the fruits of their labors.

Lee was naive, wasn't he?

His classmates took advantage of this. Soon, Lee became famous for not only being a bad ninja, but a dumb one, too.

Once upon a time, a classmate told Lee to put dandelion milk in his tea. Said it'd be sweet.

It wasn't.

The liquid left a bitter taste in his mouth, one that wouldn't dissipate for hours. He gagged a bit; it wasn't a very pleasant experience. The other children laughed from the side as he scratched his tongue, trying desperately to rid himself of the aftertaste. He spit until his mouth went dry, and even then, the bitter sensation was still as clear as ever.

Of course, he reasoned with himself. They had no way of knowing that. They probably had heard wrong from someone else that dandelion milk tasted like that. My classmates are good people, and I trust them.

Lee didn't have to look far inside himself to know he was lying. That he was in denial. Because Lee wasn't stupid, and Lee was realistic, but Lee didn't want to admit to himself that there were people who truly didn't like him. That his name left a bitter aftertaste on their tongues like the dandelion milk did on his own.

Once upon a time, Sakura told Lee to put dandelion milk in his tea. Said it'd be bitter.

It was.

"It tastes bad, but it's for your own good," she had scolded him as she dropped the white sticky substance into the hot drink. "Dandelions have incredible cleansing powers for the liver, and that's exactly what you need right now."

These were the words that Lee woke up to. His head felt woozy, and he was lying in a hospital bed. Sakura hovered above him, a bunch of the yellow weeds clutched in her hand.

"Sakura-san...?" Whoa, the room was positively spinning. "Ow... what happened?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You got into alcohol again, idiot. Here, drink this. It'll sober you up, but I'm warning you, it's bitter."

Lee took the tea and gulped it down. It tasted as bad as ever, but Lee put on a brilliant smile, more sincere and emotionally attached than his normal 'nice guy' pose, that spoke volumes of true happiness and deep rooted affection. "Thank you, Sakura-san."

Thank you for not lying, even though I'd believe you anyway. Thank you for helping me, even though I have long grown to caring for myself. Thank you for being realistic, and not expecting things out of me that I cannot complete. Thank you for being naive, and believing that I still can.

"You're welcome, Lee-kun. It's no problem, really."

And suddenly, Lee was crying. Crying because the bitterness had somehow turned bittersweet. Crying because here was the girl he loved, nursing him back to health. Crying, because he knew that people were good, and look...! Here was the proof...!

"Lee-kun, are you okay?"

"Thank you, thank you, oh Sakura-san, thank you..."

Crying because in this bitter cup of tea, he saw himself. If shinobi were tea, he'd be dandelion milk; having to sacrifice something such as taste or chakra skills in order to achieve the end result. The cure. The strength.

"Shh... it's okay, Lee-kun, I'm here, you're welcome, you're welcome, it's okay..."

And Sakura held his head to her chest and let him sob into her dress.

Dandelions are weeds, and Lee was a dandelion. However, even weeds have their uses, if only anybody would bother to look.