Notes: possible trigger warning for suicidal thoughts. It's definitely not what you think, though.
"What's he doing up there?"
"Who?"
"That kid."
"Oh, the Hyuuga boy. Huh. I don't know. Meditating?"
He stands, toes curled and fingers rigid. Anyone who meditates can see, from up close, that he is far too still, the lines of his shoulders and back too sharp, to be in a state of tranquility. Closer, and one could probably spot how tightly his lips are pressed together, and how bloodless they've become, or perhaps hear the nervous buzz of chakra on the soles of the boy's feet, maybe even smell the fear pouring off his skin.
Below the Hokage Monument the entire village spreads and rolls in rings of organic growth, its well-worn streets criss-crossing like blood vessels. Here, it is easy to see why Konohagakure is said to be hidden in the leaves — it is impossible to miss the ocean of vibrant greens surrounding the walls. Many climb the endless stairs to admire the First Hokage's legacy not only as a leader but as a forester.
Yet, despite the advanced range of his Byakugan, Neji is blind to all this. His vision flashes with a dizzying array of black and white, twisting and rushing and falling, falling, always falling. It feels as if he left half of his organs on the ground below and half of them are in the process of flying off the head of the Second Hokage. Two steps away from the edge and the tremors begin, he forgets to breathe, the world tilts and tilts until he must step away or topple forward.
What use is a shinobi who, twenty metres in the air, has the mindless compulsion to freeze, to slit his own throat, to fling himself to the ground?
So he returns to the mountain whenever possible, ostensibly to meditate. It takes five years, but eventually he tames the irrationality, leashes that primal terror, and manages to look down from atop Sarutobi Hiruzen's hair without vomiting.
The Hokage sees fit to set Team Gai a series of "warm-up" missions, designed to, supposedly, ease the recuperating members back into active shinobi life.
It sounds considerate and reasonable on paper, but in practice, they're stuck with tasks even pre-genin would scoff at. Last week was apple harvesting. They spent the entirety of yesterday retrieving lost balls for the civilian sports teams. Today, well.
Neji stands neck-deep in chicken feathers, white fluff stuck throughout his hair like overlarge pieces of dandruff.
Tenten is the first to break, her fiercely fearless spirit shining bright as she holds her stomach and guffaws. Gai-sensei and Lee join in several beats later, mirth leaking from their eyes even as they try to tone down their hysterics.
He senses the ends of his lips twitch, an insistent tug on the tight rein he kept on all emotions. He blinks and he is nine years-old, standing at the rim of a rocky cliff, cold sweat running down his neck. The boy scrambles backward while the teenager lingers with shallow breath and breakneck pulse. He turns to survey the landscape behind him, at crags and desolation and barrenness. No. He does not wish to wander there again, with only rage and righteousness for sustenance — he edges forward and jumps.
Neji lets go, shatters the bars of his self-welded cage, bares his teeth in happiness and not anger. He laughs.
So this is what flying feels like.
Notes: I've always wondered how shinobi with acrophobia coped, and it made sense that they would have to overcome it or be quite crippled in the field. I originally wrote this to be part of my drabble collection about Neji, but it got quite long, so I made it a separate work.