He was tired. He was nearly out of chakra. Sweat poured from him, sweat and blood, his white clothing red, white, torn, sticking, making it difficult to move as the torn fabric twisted and contracted around Neji's abused body. His hair was loose and clutching to his neck, shoulders, face.
He was so tired.
Tenten...
It'd been so long since he'd looked down at her. Resented her. Hated her, for Lee and Guy-sensai who would leave the two of them right from the start, hated her for being weak, and hated her for her weapons that cut and bit him. Taijutsu against metal. He'd given her hell the first year, nearly killed her so many times, but she'd exceeded his expectations. She'd shocked him when he collapsed, exhausted, tired, bleeding and nearly dead himself, and he'd realized then that he not only respected her, they shared the same belief that there was no such thing as fate when it came to a shinobi. There was talent or there was hard work. He had talent. She had hard work. She was the perfect partner.
Neji never looked down on her or Lee after that.
He grunted as another injury joined the first, an exhale of air that barely made a sound, his weary body starting to loose the ability to make any other sound at all.
It was funny. He had heard that upon death, time seemed to slow.
It did for him.
He saw the kunai. In the hand. Darker than the usual type, narrow, thirsty for his blood. Saw it aiming for his chest. His tired mind watched it, slowly, chakra failing to save him this time.
He was falling. He hurt.
Heaviness was against his chest, warmth, his mind slowly seeping the information into consciousness, like he was reading a book slower than it was being read out to him. His arms had gone forward. Wrapped around someone.
Tenten?
She had stood there, in front of him, a sudden flash of brown and white and red, and his arm had grasped her around the waist, around the chest, hand over her heart.
She smelt good. Smelt good, even sweaty, a smell that was unique to her. The smell he'd come to love during training. Who knew you could love the smell of a person's sweat? But it meant life and it meant strength.
The kunai went through his hand. Neji's mind, slow, milliseconds behind, didn't feel the pain, but felt the shock as it cut through tendon, bone, muscle, vein and artery, it mocked his attempt to protect Tenten's organ, slipping right through him and into her chest. She exhaled, a sharp exhale.
She was so warm. Her blood was warm. He'd never held her before, but she fit, fit and warmed him deep inside, warmed a part of him that had been overshadowed by grief and hate. Tenten...
They fell. Something impaled him from behind, another weapon, deep inside his own chest but he was only aware of the torture of that last fall. As they fell. She was heavy. He liked that he could feel her, feel her weight, liked that she wasn't as light as the wind, that her body was lean but still soft in places. His hand tightened against the stomach, a softness to it, a curve to it, not the flat style that most females seemed to like.
There was a flash of green, and another, as he and she fell heavily to the dirt, together, their long dark hair entwined, her head slumped against his shoulder. Heat was flooding out through the cracks of his pierced hand. His and her blood. His partner. Her heart was slowing. His was slowing too, like they moved as partners even that deep inside, their hearts beating at the same pace. Hot tears were starting to run down his face.
Tenten....
He realized that the pain wasn't the injury. It was shock. He loved her. Unconditionally, uncontrollably, painfully, loved her.
Tenten's heart stopped. Neji's eyes shut.
