This stomach flu is killing me. Temporarily, I have lost my ability to think right, write, and even eat.
So, I was groggily browsing through my files when I stumbled upon this little thing: The original epilogue of 'Cyberspace Sweetheart'. For those who know it, kudos to you. For those who don't… well, that's life. I sort of rewrote it a little, keeping the concept but broadening the vocabulary used by a pinch.
The original author's note didn't appeal to me (I was talking to Kankuro about cheese fondue), so I took it out. And since I've already posted an epilogue for 'Cyberspace Sweetheart' (which is something I regret putting up), I decided to post this as a one-shot, for the heck of it. It makes no difference, anyway.
Enjoy. Or not.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but 'Cyberspace Sweetheart' is definitely my story.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The consistent tapping of his pen was infuriating. But it sounded better than the stabbing seconds of his heartbeat.
How he'd clean this mess up afterwards was out of his mind. He was too engrossed in his choice of words, in the curve of his penmanship and the droplets of ink splattering all over the scroll papyrus. Business letters were easier than pie (not that he has ever tried to make a pie), with the formality and sternness of the demanding words…
But, a letter of informality? A letter to a friend long lost? He'd die just coming up with just the greetings in the beginning of the note.
For once putting his trust on his mind again, Neji pressed the blotted end of his pen onto the paper's surface, starting his nth letter, hung-up and too ready to tear the draft up again. Even from the doorway, anybody could spot the flabbergasting mountains of rolled up pieces of paper surrounding him, enveloping him. No one knows how long he's been working on the letter…
How are you there?
In disgust, Neji shoved the scroll he had written on off the table and grunted. Again, he heaved a calming breath to straighten his thoughts out. "Just write down what you want to say," he told himself, swallowing the pulse in his throat, "She's still your friend. Anything you write is acceptable to her. Who knows? Maybe she wouldn't even be able to read the letter, seeing how busy she is already," He cleared his throat, "Right?"
It jolted him that he was already talking to himself. He has gone crazy, since the day she left Konohagakure. At least he didn't have to stay long there, having an obligation to return to the Land of Waves afterwards. The flow of the memories, of that one last week with her, wouldn't seep too much, wouldn't burn too much. "Start over," he murmured inaudibly.
He fastened his sweaty grip on the pen. Start over…
It's been years since I last wrote, am I correct? Actually, I've never written to you. I've never had the time to as how you wouldn't have the time to read this. We're even. Yesterday, most of my endeavors in reuniting the Hyuga clan have finally paid off. I'm nearly there. 95 percent sure that I've got the job done. How about you? Is the ANBU life getting to you yet?
He didn't recognize his own words. It was a little-known fact he knew of himself to write in such a less refined manner. And the contours of those letters… That couldn't be his… They were too… relaxed… too free… too—
I assume you're well off there. Kankuro must be considering you almost spoiled rotten there, to live in the lap of luxury despite your ANBU business. I worry, sometimes, about you. Are you sure you don't want to come back and stop feeling so homesick. After all, if ever you come back to Konoha, I'd finally have a reason to return, too.
He crossed the last two lines out. Violently.
It's funny how I still remember our last dance. Do you? You, in the white frills of your wedding gown and me, in my typical Hyuga robe? I forgot the song we danced to, but I can seldom hear it ringing in my ears, I swear. By the way, that tree you used to sit under in the beach when you used to wait for me? I got someone to plant the exact same kind in my yard. That way, I'd have a place to sit under while waiting for you. Smart, eh?
Again, he bit his finger and ran numerous lines across those sentences. "Dumb ass," he told himself.
Don't hesitate to call, write to or visit me any time on any day. I can't leave Waves so much, though my job is nearly done. But I think you can't leave your base there in Suna, too. So, why not just write back? When you can, at least. I mean no insistence. I just miss you terribly, Tenten. Miss me, too?
"Come on!" he scolded himself as he practically bore a hole through the scroll from crossing out the final phrase, "Damn, damn, damn."
Anyway, I just hope you're fine over there. News of your family always reaches me, so I'm always aware of what's happening. I also get a dose of Sunagakure's agenda and issues every now and then from my messengers. Believe it or not, I have surveillance set up for you. I won't let anyone hurt you. I promise.
He was tempted to cross out the mention of the surveillance and the vow.
Take care always.
He sped his eyes through the letter, brimming his stares with tiny drops as he reread everything. "No," he mumbled sorrowfully, "This isn't going to do me well. Not at all," Neji took the scroll by the edges and sent shrill, satisfying rips through the thin material. Another reject. But he wasn't willing to start over again.
At last, he picked up a scroll and laid it open with his pen still between his shaking fingers. He was wondering why he was so cold, so unfeeling, so heartless with his letters. He was looking for the fuzzy warmth of Tenten's content and his misery in the ink. He could only find air. Tainted air. And it wasn't even capable of staying within the ink bubbles…
Assured—but reluctant still—he decided to conduct his final copy… It'll be quick, straight to the point, less graceful than he knew it would be…
Tenten,
Congratulations on your baby girl. I sent flowers. My regards to you.
Neji Hyuga
Swiftly, he rolled the paper up again and exited his quarters in search of a messenger. Upon seeing one, he gave instructions of how his letter should be sent: Personally to whoever would answer the door and with accompanying lilies. He'd pay when the courier returns to his abode, he informed him.
As the letter went on its way in the hands of the envoy, Neji felt his chest melt. He had not followed his own advice. He did not write everything—or anything—that he wanted to tell her. Even when he finally had the chance after three years. Shifting his feet, he reentered his home.
"I knew I should've started over," he said to himself remorsefully, confiding to himself, "I should've."
He crept deeper into his bunk, hiding beneath wool sheets. He wanted his mind to tell him a story, one that would comfort him and perhaps lull him to sleep like a mother would. But all his mind talked of was Tenten and her daughter. Her name—the daughter's—was a remnant Neji wished to forgo. "It's not fair, you know," he suddenly whispered to his pillow, as if someone were listening…
"You know the name Tenten and Kankuro gave their daughter?" he murmured, muffled, "I once told Tenten that it's the name we'd eventually give to our kid, when we finally had one. How unfair is that?"
But, of course, no one would know. Neji and Tenten would never have children of their own… No matter how much they wished for it…