I'm supposed to be writing an essay on WW1, but this story decided to take over and get written instead :P oh well, enjoy the results of my procrastination!
Naruto and all affiliated characters are the property of Masashi Kishimoto :)
Team Gai trudged along slowly. A mission successfully completed, they were returning to Konoha. A light rain drizzled around them, soaking quickly through clothing and adding to the general atmosphere of 'bleh'. Although the mission had been a success, they had all had enough. They were tired, hungry, and just wanted to get home. Neji plodded along bringing up the rear of the group, hands in pockets, entertaining delicious fantasies of a long, hot bath and a steaming bowl of soup before collapsing into bed.
They passed a family group on the road, looking as miserable as they felt. A little girl was complaining about being tired, until her parents took her hands and she walked between them, a bit happier. Neji glanced sideways as he passed them, his thoughts suddenly wandering.
~..~
Holding hands. It had always puzzled him how such a simple thing could be so important. Just touching hands together, yet the gesture showed so much trust and affection.
He remembered as a small boy, holding his father's hand. It made him feel so safe, his father's big warm hand wrapped securely around his own. Nothing could harm him while Daddy held his hand.
When his father died, he was allowed to see the body before it was taken away. He had reached out for his father's hand, and found it cold. That was what had scared him; what featured most in his nightmares. Not his father's pale, still face or the presence of death itself, but the fact that his father's hand was cold and hard and didn't feel like his daddy.
He remembered when Hanabi was born; how Hiashi-sama had run to his wife and taken her hand, comforting and soothing her in her pain. When it became apparent that she was dying, he had held her hand until the end, never letting go.
He saw lovers holding hands, fingers entwined, gently caressing the other's skin. When he was eating out with his friends, he noticed Shikamaru's hand sneaking out to capture Temari's under the table. They may have bickered constantly, but that intertwining of their fingers belied all the snide comments and said what they were afraid to put into words.
He saw men facing death together clasp hands before battle. A quick, terse handshake; but it said so much. These men were making a tacit agreement to watch each other's backs; to protect one another. That quick handshake was a way of showing their trust.
~..~
Beside him, Tenten slipped on the muddy grass. Her feet skidded forwards and she landed on her backside, grimacing. Without thought, Neji stopped and offered her his hand. It wasn't until she had taken it and he was pulling her to her feet that he realised the significance of the gesture for him. By taking his hand, Tenten was expressing her trust in him and, although momentarily, placing herself at his mercy. She was trusting him not to let her fall; by offering his hand, he had also offered her his protection, in a way.
Taking her weight, he pulled her upright a bit too quickly and had to steady her with his other arm. He glanced at her face as her grip on his hand tightened involuntarily and found to his mild embarrassment that she was doing the same. Their eyes met and held as she righted her footing and they stood for a moment before Neji realised that Tenten's hand was still ensconced firmly in his own.
He didn't let go. Smiling, Tenten twisted her grip slightly so they could wrap their fingers together.
They walked on through the misty rain, holding hands.