They are ready. For war. (Or as ready for war as one can be.)

He glances down at her as she does a last inventory of her tools, brow furrowed, jaw clenched. Determined.

"Are you nervous?" he asks, genuinely curious. He is. (Just a bit.) Nervous about dying, about losing his uncle, his cousin, his team. (Her.)

"No... not really," she replies, not looking up. And by all means it seems to be true. She does not shake, cry, whimper, or bemoan their fate, simply readies her supplies with the perfect efficiency particular to her. "I mean I'm not excited about it or anything and I guess I'm kind of afraid of death, but..." she glances up at him, smiling, "What good does worrying do, right? It'll just distract me from my job, and that's that most dangerous thing out there." She looks into his eyes, smile faltering for just a moment. "Really Neji, everything will be fine. We'll make it out of this, we're tough." Standing, confident, radiant, she steps towards him. There is warmth, in her smile, her eyes. It does not melt his heart (that would be much too sentimental) but it is comforting. Familiar.

"I will... miss you."

And suddenly there is a hand on his shoulder, tanned skin brushing past his nose, lips (so-soft) touching his cheek, feather-light. His heart is still slamming against his chest when she pulls back, grinning, and turns away, bounding across the field and bestowing the same honor on Lee and Gai, for god's sake. And he only feels a little jealous, that is until she glances over her shoulder and winks, mouthing (with those damn, entrancing lips) 'Me too.'