I do not own Naruto.

I have fallen in love Hyuugacest. I enjoy making them angst at each other. There is so much potential in this pairing, especially when I add Tayuya. But in this particular ficlet it's merely HinaNeji. An RL AU, of course. Based heavily on Bjork's Hyper-Ballad. I suggest you check it out; you'll understand the story a bit better.

I apologize for any html that remained, since this was written originally to be posted on LJ. It would be great if you could point out any html I missed.

note: Fujioka means "one living near or on Mount Fuji."

Hinata awoke, warm. The bedsheets kept in her body heat, and his, and she didn't feel like shivering. She was somewhat reluctant to get up this morning, to the morning chill, to the morning frost. The door to the balcony would be stuck, she knew, and she'd have to tug on it hard until it came loose. Neji might wake up; ask why she needed to go outside at five in the morning.

But. Then again. He hadn't awakened yet.

She swiveled her legs off the bed, and quickly padded off towards the kitchen before her skin could cry out for that warm again. On her way she picked up this and that, one photo frame and then another. She got herself a bagel from a ziplock bag and took it back up with her. It was cold and slightly hard.

Placing the picture frames down, she pulled at the white handle of the door that opened up to the balcony. Like she'd predicted, it was stuck. Hinata pulled and pulled and pulled and came loose, finally. Inertia kept her moving, and she nearly tumbled into the wall. Tears sprung at her eyes immediately, and she shook her head, displacing them, angry with herself.

Picked up the picture frames once more, accidentally forgetting the bagel.

The city was asleep, and below her a few straggler cars were zipping along the gravel streets, and every so often someone would walk by, their hands in their pockets and their eyes to the ground. Hinata wanted to rub her arms, feel the goosebumps underneath her fingers, but her arms were still full of those picture frames.

Better to…

She dropped one over the edge.

It was one of her and Hanabi, posed over a swell of rocks, the beach landscape behind them. It was one of the few pictures of them that weren't taken professionally, and Hanabi smiled fully, exhibiting the space between her front teeth, and Hinata's hair was a mess from the ocean.

Hinata didn't believe that either of them looked particularly beautiful in the shot. They came across just as they were: girls coming from the ocean, trying to enjoy themselves. Most pictures wore masks, the smiles deceiving.

This was one of Hinata's favorite pictures of Hanabi.

But Hanabi was gone, better off dead. Because then Hinata could excuse her lack of contact due to a lack of proper psychic.

All Hinata could remember was her sister's betrayed expression when Hinata had acceded to her father's request. They'd talked about this before, several times, and had pledged that they would marry only if—not because of their father's whims. The picture whirls and whirls and it falls, and it hits the ground with a muffled crash. She's on the eighty-fourth floor, and everything seems sifted.

Suddenly, that picture is gone, good as forgotten. Hinata felt a weight lifted.

But there was no picture of her sister's anger to smash against the sides of her mountain.

She would have to carry that weight.

And another. This one was just of Neji, but smaller and the edges softened, like in older pictures. He's not smiling; he was never like that at all, despite what people might want to imagine. Dressed in a shirt several sizes too large, he was leaning over to pet a cat. She remembered the animal from childhood; it had stayed at Neji's house only a few days before moving on, but Hinata and Neji had both gotten excited and had purchased food and toys for the creature.

As that picture fell, she remembered the feeling, the longing, when she realized that Nobo wasn't coming back. And it cracked and the glass scattered, along with the memory and the aching sensation in her chest.

Someone a few floors below opened the window and she pulled away from the railing, and stood still, trying not to make any noise. This was good and calming and it worked only because no one was awake to witness it. Having someone there to judge her; it would ruin the entire healing process.

Yes, for Hinata, this was a healing process. What better way is there to get past something than to forget it completely? Put it away in a filing cabinet behind a secret wall you forgot the password to. Finally, the sound of a window snapping shut again, and Hinata let out her breath. The last frame in her cold, stiff fingers, she turned it away from her.

This was the most important memory to suppress. The last frame in her cold, stiff fingers, she turned it away from her.

This was the most important memory to suppress.

It was her wedding picture. Her dress was a beautiful ivory, glistening the sunlight. The weather had been wonderful that day, the sun shining as it blessed this day. She had blinked at the camera, the tall man in his smooth new suit directing her from behind the lenses. She knew the picture by heart, knew her thin smile. Recognized the cool distress in her eyes.

It was, in a way, the worst and the best day of her life. Worst in that she'd scanned the aisles, and Hanabi had not been there. Best in that…

In that, at least now she wasn't a slave to her father's desires.

It fell as smoothly as the other two, and it smashed just as well. And all of a sudden she'd realized what she'd done. The full brunt of it hit her hard.

Soon she would be no one. Hadn't that been her goal to start? Clear the past and become someone new?

But the task of becoming another person loomed in front of her, and it frightened her. How could she manage it? There was no one holding her up; she'd abandoned her old friendships, ashamed of the choices she'd made.

She glanced behind, listening to the light shuffling she heard in the open bedroom. Hinata shivered suddenly, at the morning chill, now that she had nothing to place in front of her. She'd smashed the remnants of her wall, and now she was vulnerable to attack.

Her hands gripped the railing, ignoring the cold dew seeping into her skin. On the sidewalk bits of glass reflected the sunrise up at her, and hoped no one would step on a shard and cut their foot.

I imagine what my body would sound like, slamming against those rocks…

It would be easy to swing her legs over and push herself off. She wouldn't even feel the glass…or would she?

Hinata stepped back into the penthouse quickly, and closed the screen door, cutting off the wind. Her pale hand smoothed the curtain over the glass. In the sudden dimness, she stumbled through the dining room and the living, and she tumbled into the bed.

And when it lands, will my eyes be closed or open...

She shivered, and turned onto her side to make she hadn't awakened Neji. His eyes were pale and serious as they gazed back at her, but she didn't jump. In fact, she'd half-expected it to happen today. He didn't ask her any questions out loud, so she didn't answer. Out loud.

His lips were warm; hers continued to hold the chill of the early morning. He pressed against her gently, his hand coming up to her face. She had been scared of him, only recently. His touch had caused her flinch, and she'd tensed every time he kissed her. But those old perceptions had smashed along with the glass, and the pictures themselves blew away in the breeze, landing in gutters and getting run over by cars until they were unrecognizable. Until they ceased to exist.

He whispered her name as she drew away and shook her head gently. "No, not Hinata…

"Fujioka."