When everyone is absorbed in the battle between Lee and Gaara, Neji takes the opportunity to slip out of the arena. There's no rule against it, he reasons, and makes his way to where the injured are being cared for. The makeshift medbay carries the feel of a room usually bustling with activity, but at the moment it's quiet, the two medics that haven't returned to the match dealing with a few minor scrapes on one of the disqualified contenders. Those with serious injuries, like Lady Hinata, have been taken to the hospital-the remaining are left to rest and heal on their own.
The medics placed Tenten at the very back of the room, and Neji is glad for the privacy that this affords, despite the maze of pallets that surrounds her. She opens one eye just a crack as he crouches beside her. "Lee is fighting." he says, knowing that she will want to be told this before anything else.
She sits up, wincing, her body a mass of rapidly discoloring bruises and cuts that disturb him more than he thought possible. The girl from Sand, Temari, was beyond chunin level; hardly a fair fight, even for a scrapper like Tenten. Neji doesn't give much thought about fair or not fair, but he can tell that Tenten does-and she wants a rematch. "And you?" she asks, suppressing a cough that brings blood to her lips.
Neji carefully takes a glass of water from where it rests besides her pillow and hands it to her, explaining his actions in his mind as clinical, not affectionate. "I have already fought."
Tenten sips at the water. "I know. They were talking about how you-about the fight." She licks her lips, collecting the drops of water and blood that threaten to fall from them, and sets the glass down by his thigh. "You faced her."
He looks away-not because he's ashamed, not at all because of that-but because, while he is the one with all-seeing-eyes, her dark brown gaze penetrates too deeply to be comfortable. Lee and his teacher, Guy, both bring him into their friendship without thought or regard to his feelings on the matter; but she is always watching, always speaking to him as if she equaled his intelligence, and as if she knows that he would not choose to associate with any of them if he didn't have to. In return, he regards her as what would be his friend, if he had any to speak of.
"She is still weak. That will never change." He speaks brusquely, in a vain attempt to disguise his thoughts from the one person on whom his disguises never work. Tenten leans back on her hands, wincing as she opens fresh wounds, and he springs to assist her without thinking. She smiles as he props her up against the wall without being asked, and trails the fingers of one hand over his slightly bruised wrist. He draws back sharply, even though it didn't hurt.
"She got you. Once." Tenten smiles faintly. "She'll change." She reaches out and touches his face, gentleness taking over her normally tough manner. "I bet facing her took a lot out of you, huh?"
"I told you already-she is weak," he fences, turning his face away from her hand. He doesn't understand, still, why he becomes different around Tenten-he doesn't wish to. It implicates something that he's dreading, and that he childishly wishes to run away from rather than face. "I didn't even get a workout."
"Riiiight." Her sarcastic drawl is abruptly cut off by a round of hacks that bring up more blood. Concerned, and trying to hide the fact that he is, Neji looks around for a medic. Surely all that blood isn't normal? But the two nin who were watching the room have drifted into the hall, where sounds of the vicious match can be clearly heard and gossiped about. He grimaces, and turns back to his teammate, hoping to use his sight and limited medical knowledge to make sure she isn't dying.
As far as he can tell, she's fine, but organs and veins aren't his specialty. Tenten waves her hand, bringing it in front of his eyes to uselessly block him out. "Stop peeping, and save your chakra for the next round. You have been promoted, right?"
"Yes." he replies, and she nods with satisfaction. "Well, between you and Lee, at least one of our team will make it for sure this year." The hope in her is for her teammates, without any bitterness over her own loss. She is by far better at being human than he.
"I-" he hesitates, unsure if his feelings should be voiced aloud. "I am sorry . . . that you did not win." Surprisingly, he is. Seeing Tenten defeated hardly provoked one comment about weakness from his lips; he almost, almost, felt it an injustice. Perhaps it was something like sentimentality creeping up on him; or perhaps he just wanted to care for once.
Tenten shrugs, eyes fluttering as fatigue catches up with her. "Don't try to distract me with sweetness, Neji Hyuga. We were having a serious discussion about your fight."
He shifts, siting cross-legged in front of her. "There is nothing to discuss."
"Damn straight there is," she grunts, stifling a yawn, and shuffles into a reclining position, lying her head in his lap without invitation. He does his best to not gawp at her like a startled schoolboy; it's a losing battle. "I bet you tried to go easy on her," she mumbles, half incoherently, tracing patterns on one of his knees. "I bet it broke your heart to fight."
Neji tries to tell her that she's delirious, but the words become lodged in his throat and refuse to go any farther.
"But beating her to the point of breaking . . . you hoped that she would give up. You hoped that she would turn away from the path set for her, and that she would do what you can't. That she would change." He feels the curve of Tenten's smile against his thigh. "You're all bark and no bite, you know that?" she asks rhetorically.
"If you aren't going to sleep, remove yourself from my person," he says icily, and she falls silent.
"You can do it, too." She speaks after a time, and he starts, jostling her head, having long since thought that she did sink into sleep. "You'll realize that eventually, and the walls between us will dissolve." She yawns, body shaking with one final cough.
Neji runs one hand through her hair, the other supporting her wracking form. He's actually aware of her bones and skin under his palm, fragile and strong at the same time, easy to break and yet hard to kill. "I fear for that time." he admits, knowing that she's too preoccupied to remember his words. He draws her hair back from her sweating forehead, his other arm practically clutching her to him as he helps her stagger to the sick bucket. She will live, he thinks, and it's almost a pity. "I fear we will become very close indeed."