Etiquette
She is ten; he is eleven. They both attend the academy together and eat silently next to each other when they are required to at home. Most days it doesn't apply or really matter because he trains until it is late at night. Some days she is taking extra lessons with elder members of the household, memorizing names and titles and diplomacy. She finds that being head of a clan is like being head of a country, on a smaller scale, but also, it's much worse. Because the subjects are relatives and making the hard decisions is harder because of it. He would tell her to train harder. That's his way. Still, occasionally, they are both home and unoccupied and thus ordered to the table to behave like respectable clan members.
She is shy; he is bitter. Those two things alone are enough to halt conversation and smiles and freeze a friendship. If she wants something on his side of the table, salt perhaps, she'll burn red and go still, but slowly recover to chew through the rest of her too-bland food. It's okay, she'll go without. And she'll remember to put a salt packet in her pocket next time and will practice extreme stealth in using it. The way he clears his throat when he picks up his glass of water will tell her that despite all her effort, he still managed to catch her small action. He smiles vindictively to himself when it occurs. It is pride alone which prevents him from asking for the salt when it is on emher/em side. He'd rather starve, thank you. When Tenten asks why he carries salt packets in his kunai holster, he says it is for his cousin, and lets her think that he means it as some sort of lucky thing, or as a joke. In truth, he knows she is neither luck nor joke to him. When she catches him later that night, using a packet, she goes to smile, but at his glare, she swallows it and a sob of disappointment down with a gulp of her own water, which burns like poison as it goes down.
She is lavender; he is gray. Neither of their talented set of eyes is the pure, pure white of their ancestors, but the variation and shading makes them seem a little more human, so she takes it as a blessing, and he curses that it's a shame to lose something that could strike fear in an enemy during battle. On the way to dinner, she'll walk through the courtyard, eyes reflecting sky and clouds, coordinating by contrast with the grass and trees. He'll walk more quickly by, eyes sharp, like polished shuriken. For a second, his greater build will block the sun's rays that fall behind him, around him, and she notices with great interest and slight fear that this creates the appearance of fire around his head and shoulders. A quick prayer is made, that he doesn't burn. Neither will blink, thanks to extensive training, but both avert their gaze quickly and ignore the incident.
She is chosen; he is rejected. And that will keep them apart forever, this curse of fate. He might have answered to 'nii-san' more gladly, been more willing to use '-chan', but that is not the case.
Instead, she is hurt; he is hurt.
.:Where would we be, if we hadn't been born here…:.
A/N: Thanks to lovewrath who caught my formatting issues!