Guilty Passion
Chapter Twenty-five
Three months later…
The moon woke Neji up.
The white flare of it shimmered, soaking through his lids, reaching into the nightmare. He tossed restlessly, yawned, sat up and felt his head thump heavily. For a second he felt quite disorientated. There was a burning behind his eyelids. Hot and painful.
"If you at all value my happiness, you'll sign those damn papers."
Her voice might have been soft, but her words were edged like a blade. And they sliced him to shreds—each smaller, less significant, more unrecoverable than the last.
"You're despicable and I hate you."
He tried to keep his eyes closed, to quench the burning, but it would not be quenched. He could feel the burning liquefy, like molten fire, feel it squeeze past his eyelids, hot on his cheeks.
"I can't forgive you or love you again. I can't risk opening my heart to a man who had crushed what remained of it in the palms of his hands."
His mouth was dry. Memory, like a foul, fetid, tide, swept through him as if a dam had been severed.
He almost fell out of bed in horror as his finger brushed the burning molten moisture on his face. Emotion was spiking in his chest. He didn't know what it was, and he wasn't in any kind of mood to be introspective. Neji only knew that after so much time had passed, it was pathetic to still wake up feeling this way. He thought of another word for it but clamped his mouth shut on that and walked out onto the balcony.
It overlooked the cobalt-blue waters of the ocean just yards away. There was nothing but the distant honking of a ship to disturb the peace of timelessness. For quite some time he stood there, arms resting on the wooden balcony, just looking out and feeling numb. Everything seemed very far away. Very distant.
"The essence of moving out was to not have to see you anymore."
"I'd like it if you stopped coming over here."
He steeled himself. Slowly, painfully, he had to go on with his life. But all the way to his bathroom he kept remembering and flinching—cold snaked down his spine. He turned the shower on and got under it, masochistically letting it run ice-cold and gritted his teeth at the sting of the needles of water.
When he got out, he dried himself with angry punishing fingers and dressed in a pair of sweat pants and t-shirt, then opened his bathroom door to listen—the nursery radio was quiet.
There were no delightful titters, no angry screams or unintelligible chatter filtering through its speakers. It was a little unusual, normally one of the boys would be up, bouncing about in his cot, trying to wake up the other. Though the house tended to be noisier and messier, he rather enjoyed having them both around. There was nothing he looked forward to more.
When he entered the nursery, he instinctively bent over Jiro's crib first. The young Hyuuga hadn't been feeling too well lately but he looked utterly content, the long black lashes setting thickly on his baby cheeks, the rosebud mouth pursed in sleep. Tentatively Neji reached out an alarmingly shaky hand and touched the chubby little arm clad in the sailor pyjamas. Jiro sighed and then smiled his peachy smile.
Speech was beyond Neji. His own face lit up with a soft radiance because he imagined that Jiro really did know he was close by.
His face contorted. Words broke from his aching throat, "I hate that you have to leave in the morning—" He reached down and lightly touched the small closed fist. It opened and gripped his finger hard. "—this is your home and I took it from you."
He leaned over and kissed the rosy cheek and knew that he had overstepped in threatening to have Sakura's shared custody revoked. Perhaps things would've—could've gone differently. Maybe she would have considered his attempt at reconciliation—would've have listened to what he went there with the intention of saying.
But then like a punch in his guts, the harsh reality came. The sick, terrifying reality that it wouldn't have changed a thing. The situation was beyond damage control.
Gently he replaced the covers and Jiro snuggled into them, his dark head almost disappearing. From a few feet away it would be hard to know he was there. With loving motions he smoothed the bedspread and hungrily watched him sleep. He was filled with happiness, with choking emotion, with uncontainable love. But even fiercer was the sadness, the stifling despair and self-loathing.
Neji savagely clamped it down and went to check on Taro, selfishly wishing that the toddler was awake so he'd have something to occupy his mind. Taro's cradle was empty however and so was the ground, safe for Jiro's scrapbook, a few crayons and stray toys. The nursery had been given a thorough tidying up after himself, Taro and Jiro had made a mess painting imprints of their palms on one of the walls.
It was an absolute work of art. Tiny, colourful hand prints were scattered amongst the white region painted into the wall for the said purpose. Amongst them was larger, masculine pair of hands positioned at the top of it all—beside it, an empty patch of white where it's more feminine counterpart should be.
Neji's gaze went back to the vacant crib with its rumpled blanket. He took a steadying breath, swallowing air to calm the mild panic that clawed in him, its talons like slashing razors. There was no way Taro could have climbed out of his crib and if by any chance he happened to, it was far too shadowy for him to want to venture too far. After all, the little rascal was afraid of the dark.
He figured the nanny must've taken him for a walk around the house to prevent him fron waking his brother. So he wasn't expecting to be greeted by Taro's high-pitched voice when he entered the kitchen a few minutes later.
"Moo-nin daddy!" he chirped.
Neji found himself blinking like a startled rabbit before he forced a light smile to his lips. A quick glance at the clock showed 5:45 a.m. It was far too early for Taro to be having breakfast. But it came as no surprise that the scent of freshly squeezed orange juice, recently brewed coffee and cheese hovered palpably in the air. The kid liked to make a nuisance of himself in the mornings, especially if he woke up hungry.
That he was left unsupervised in the roasting Kitchen was a little disconcerting.
Despite the fact that the sun had yet to peek above the horizon, it was rather warm. Summer was approaching and hence the days and nights were sweltering. The air-conditioning was usually on full blast to offset the heat, but due to Jiro's asthma, it had to be kept off. Most of their days were spent lazing around in floats by the pool or lounging on the porch.
The sand on the beach was usually near scorching temperature by midday so there was simply not much more that they could do.
"Moo-nin," Taro repeated as if he thought he hadn't been heard.
The overhead fan head hummed in tune with the sound of the salt-laden breeze as it rattled the window frames.
It was so hot inside Neji was compelled to crack two of them open. Outside the skies were transforming from its dark inkiness into streaks of gold and orange. The curtains swayed slightly in the gentle wind that came through and played on his face.
"Bees!" Taro squealed appreciatively and beamed.
"Breeze," Neji corrected and shook his head at the sight that he stumbled upon when he finally turned towards the source of all the delightful little sounds.
Taro's hands and face were coated in cheese and a tiny piece of macaroni was stuck to his left brow. The area beneath his highchair was equally as messy as he was. Judging from the colourful bits of cereal that were soggily lying in the spilled milk on the floor, the brat had refused what was initially prepared for him. He had a tendency to do that. A lot.
Ever since Neji took the twins to lunch with their grandmother at a local diner, it had been like this. He knew it had been a mistake to allow the waitress to open a menu out before them. They had been so fascinated by the pretty pictures that they immediately started pointing at what they wanted. Not only had they torn the menu to shreds afterwards but now, apparently, they seemed to think their nannies were at their beck and call to serve them whatever they wanted.
Neji supposed he was partly to blame because he'd ordered everything they'd demanded to keep them from creating a scene.
"Good morning," he stooped before Taro's highchair and ruffled his hair. "Why do I bother teaching you how to use a fork?" he asked, flicking his gaze over the child's yellow fingers and soiled Pyjamas.
He shrugged and launched into a bubbly jabber while his small hands continued to stuff his face with food. He missed his mouth on a number of tries because he was caught up watching his father help himself to coffee.
"No toffee!" he scowled. His eyes fell so accusingly on Neji that the Hyuuga felt exposed to some suddenly scornful disapproval within them.
He arched a fascinated brow, croaking with astonishment, "Is that so?"
Taro nodded impatiently. "Toffee bad."
Neji chuckled. "I drink it every morning and you've never had a problem with it."
His lashes lowered and he brought his lips between his teeth. It was such a Sakura-like gesture that Neji had to turn his face away. His whole body went cold, he looked dully out the window at the fading stars which still seemed to reflect in the dark waters of the glinting sea. The beautiful and mysterious Konohian Sea did not in any way reflect Sakura's regard for him anymore. She made it too obvious that she disliked him intensely, and there was nothing beautiful about hate.
But he hated himself now, with a drear, bleak loathing that dragged at him like weights around his body.
How was it that when she became everything to him, she didn't appear to feel even one scrap of affection for him? Pain ripped at him, and its bitterly familiar twin—shame. Shame that he had been so unforgivably horrible to the mother of his children. So much so that she had written off the possibility of giving him a second chance.
"Toffee ick," Taro sobbed and was perhaps a little overdramatic in wiping his eyes when he hadn't shed a tear. His face was a study of dismay as Neji's went white.
"Coffee makes me sick?" he attempted to clarify his interpretation of what was said.
He nodded again but his intelligible speech tailed away and he began to protest furiously in his seemingly native tongue—ie. Baby. His voice was unsteady but determined.
"Not with your mouth full," Neji scolded lightly and the infant blinked blankly at him but continued to fume.
"Ew luh me?" he stuck his hand angrily into his plate and produced a fist full of macaroni.
A great incredulity encompassed Neji. Stunned to a blank, gasping silence, he watched Taro spitefully try to shove his entire hand into his mouth.
Almost defiantly he stared into Neji's face, glaring silver daggers into his head.
"Of course I love you," he felt the words were completely inadequate to describe his feelings. He was amazed however, that while he wasn't fluent in baby, he was competent enough to understand Taro's babbles. "But what has that got to do with coffee?" he asked reasonably.
"Toffee ick!" he slapped his tiny palm down on the chair, his thin mouth firmed in adorable exasperation.
Neji held his gaze, full of confusion. "I won't get sick," he assured him softly.
"No toffee!" Taro maintained in a cute little tone of finality.
Frozen with a terrible unease, he stared anxiously, "Who told you that?"
His small mouth twisted wryly, as if he enjoyed a private, though not very amusing joke. "Nah-be!"
"Who's that?" His eyes widened with apprehension as he stared at him. Taro actually looked shaken, like he was groping his way through a maze of conflicting understandings of what coffee was. But he clearly believed Neji would get sick and leave him if he drank it.
"Nah-be!" his voice rose and echoed off the polished counters.
"Hn?"
Taro mumbled a bunch of gibberish and furrowed his brows in annoyance at himself when he realized Neji hadn't understood him. "Daddy, Ji?" he enquired, indicating to the empty highchair beside his. "Ji...?"
"He's still sleeping," Neji told him, filling his mug with the rich blackness of espresso.
These days he ran solely on caffeine, he couldn't sleep—hadn't had a good night rest since Sakura broke off all communication with him.
The depression still hit him like huge waves. And he let them break over him, knowing there was nothing he could do—nothing. The future he had thought to have was gone. It could never return. The pain in Sakura's eyes had crucified him—pain he had inflicted. He had hurt her over and over again with that particular lie—and such a monstrous one. That lie mocked him with whips—as did her response when he finally hinted the truth—that he had in fact loved her too.
But it didn't matter now did it? He had fought it—fought her.
She was the woman he should have striven with every fibre of his being to be a good husband to. She had loved him, stood by him even when things concerning their future had looked bleak. And now—it was over. The life they should have had together was over before it began.
And worst—worst of all—the chill, excoriating fear within him.
That it had all been punishment.
For the unfeeling bastard that he had been, he hadn't deserved another child or Sakura and so they were both taken from him. Despair racked him. And anger and shame, and a regret for what could never now be.
The weight of it bowed and crushed him down.
And yet he knew he had to accept what had happened. There was no alternative. His daughter was gone. Sakura was gone. The former would cause him grief for ever; he knew, but the latter—oh, the latter. It killed him.
Dread pooled into his stomach in recollection and he took a heavy swallow of the hot liquid as if to stave off the feeling. The only thing it ended up doing was to scald his throat. He spluttered and went into a series of cough.
Taro's laughter was crucifying, "Wopid."
With a decisive snort Neji emptied his cup into the sink, "Did you call me stupid?"
"No!" he covered his face and peeked through the cracks he made between his fingers. He gave a squeal of alarm when Neji gently peeled his hands away to tenderly pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sa wee!" he giggled hysterically.
"Sa wee doesn't cut it," he jeered and pretended to sulk. "You've hurt my feelings,"
When he faked a wail, Taro's moon-like eyes widened in panic and he flung his arms around Neji's neck in his trademark stranglehold. "Hai luh ew."
Neji laughed the way someone did when life was perfect and there were no worries on the horizon. Inside, his stomach rolled with grief but he doggedly concentrated on concealing his turbulent feelings. His nerves were ragged from losing the only woman he had ever cared deeply about. What was done was already done, a voice told him. She said she didn't want to see him and well—sometimes the hardest and the right things were the same—so he had honoured her wishes.
His gut twisted into a knot. He'd never felt so damn helpless in his life. He wished to hell it was as simple as apologizing but knew it would be pointless, he had done that repeatedly and it hadn't gotten him anywhere. It was slow agony but he deserved everything she'd dished out and so much more. He could honestly say that he wouldn't forgive himself either had the situation been reversed.
Taro buried his face in Neji's shoulder. He could feel his little throat working convulsively as he tried to keep his sobs silent. But they spilled out, harsh and brittle in the quiet.
"Sa wee."
Neji pulled back and stared at him for a moment as something gripped his heart so tightly it hurt. It was his own inner turmoil that caused his voice to be hoarse as he said, "Why are you apologizing Hizashi? You didn't do anything wrong." He sometimes liked to call them by their other names so they would be able to identify with them.
Taro pouted angrily at Neji's deceit. "Nut ice."
He laughed, still marveling at how well he comprehended the brat. "I'm not nice?"
He shook his head in response and returned his attention to his meal, seemingly trying to give his father the silent treatment. Taro was all too familiar with it, having been given it on a number of ocassions.
Now that the twins were holding on to furniture, getting to their feet and moving about, their list of offences had sky rocketed. Since figuring how to manoeuver a broom, they've been dragging one around with them on their path of destruction. Its sole purpose was to knock objects off shelves, counters, and other unreachable surfaces. Nothing survived in their wake and whatever did, was hidden away in their toy chests or stuffed elsewhere.
Reprimanding them made little difference because Taro found it rather amusing to be scolded and was even more encouraged to carry out his evil deeds. He preferred to continue being bad until it left Neji no other choice than to vocalize his displeasure, so silent treatment usually backfired. To stay on his brother's good-side, Jiro would simply follow suit. It was a little more effective on him however. He was such a chatterbox that whenever Neji became too unresponsive it got him frustrated.
"Toe-can!"
Speak of the devil.
Neji swung around and froze—shock naked on his face. His eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. The person holding Jiro was definitely not the nanny. He cocked an eyebrow, pointedly waiting for an explanation.
"Ji!" Taro bounced about in the confinement of his high-chair. "Moo-nin."
"Nii-can!" Jiro greeted but his voice was quieter and his smile faded, his eyes fixed on Neji's downcast face. "Toe-can?"
"Good morning Kizashi," he knelt there, the breath frozen in his lungs and felt his hand close over the back of Taro's chair. Felt, as if from a long, long, distance away, his muscles tense as he levered himself to his feet.
Panic, horror and a whole storm of emotions he couldn't even identify poured through him like a deluge.
Neji's leg felt weak, his heart was hammering. A voice seemed to be inside his head, shouting tragedy! As if it was a kind of automated warning. For one long moment he could only stare, remorse and guilt glistening in his eyes.
Then he spoke. Many questions drummed in his head like a pain in his skull but one troubled him most. "Did something happen to Hiashi-sama?" he asked slowly, his own enquiry was like a nail in his flesh.
There was an incredulous, disbelieving laugh, with not the slightest trace of humor in it. "I'm surprised that's the first thing that came to mind when you saw me."
"I can't imagine this is a casual visit—" Neji said slowly. His eyes narrowed slightly. "—it's still dark outside, how did you get out of the house at this hour?"
"Nah-be!" Taro called and pointed to his plate to signal that he would like it refilled.
Neji's eyebrows pulled together, making him look forbidding somehow. "Why does he know you by name?" There was a bite in his voice she'd have been deaf not to hear.
Hanabi placed Jiro in his highchair and turned to Neji, "I've secretly been sneaking over here to visit them after school when you're at work," she admitted with a coy smile. "And I've been here all night."
The forbidding look suddenly became even more intense. "What?"
She shrugged her shoulders but something shifted in the depths of those eyes. Shifted, and hardened. Like her voice. "I know you're angry with father, but Hinata and I haven't done anything wrong for you to keep Taro and Jiro from—"
"He was horrible to Sakura," Neji expelled harshly, cutting her off.
"So were you nii-san, that's why she isn't here."
He felt his colour flare at the none too subtle rebuke and the defense mechanism he had employed for years sprang immediately into place. "Jiro shouldn't have any cheese," he advised her tersely when she made to place a small plate of macaroni and cheese before the baby.
Jiro's smile turned down, "Peas toe-can?" he asked hopefully.
Neji's mouth trembled and his heart sank. He didn't like denying his sons anything. It was partly why they were so damn spoilt. "I thought we agreed you'd eat healthier?" he reminded the tot.
He folded his tiny arms and scoffed—apparently he couldn't recall ever coming to such an agreement.
"Me! Me!" Taro squeaked as Hanabi retracted the plate from Jiro's chair.
Sighing, she gave it to him and brought his empty bowl to the sink. "I honestly don't know where you put all this food." There was an amused quality to her voice. "Look at you!" she exclaimed with a loud laugh. "You've got cheese in your hair."
He scowled darkly and reached up to brush at his head. The only thing he accomplished by doing so was to cover an even larger portion of his hair in curdled milk.
She threw her head back and chortled. "You're so silly and cute. I just want to hug the life out of you."
Taro's face was suddenly white with horror. "Top it! Top it!" he looked at her levelly. Then he turned to Neji in complaint, his pearly eyes glittered. "Nah-be nut ice."
Hysterical laughter bubbled in Hanabi's throat. "What flavour ice-cream is Nut Ice?"
He pouted and rubbed furiously at his eyes. He didn't like being laughed at. "Ew nut ice."
She continued to giggle. "Or is it a topping?"
Mortified, Taro stared at her, looking completely shaken, his cheeks now hotter.
The look of fury on his brother's face inflamed Jiro's temper. "Peas top—" he fumed as Taro's sobbing and spasms went on and on. "—nii-can add. Peas top"
"What's he saying?" she asked, rummaging through the refrigerator before producing a tray of eggs, bacon strips, pancake syrup and milk, still laughing. "And what is nut ice?"
"He's telling you to stop because Taro is sad." Neji said dryly and watched Hanabi, who had never lift a finger since the day she was born, move about his kitchen like she had been raised in one. "And it means you're not nice."
She snorted and fell thoughtfully quiet while she went about frying bacon and eggs and making pancakes.
Neji was so confused by her presence that he scarcely noticed Taro stretching a handful of macaroni across to Jiro. "What do you mean by you've been here all night?" he persisted, with punishing politeness.
"Your housekeeper let me in," she answered, fetching various eating cutleries and utensils. "Like I said, I've been coming here every day after school. All your staff knows I'm your sister," Hanabi pointed out smoothly, as if sensing Neji's hidden panic. He was always a little paranoid when it came to his home security, especially now that he had Taro and Jiro. "I always call to make sure you're not here when I stop by though..." her voice trailed off.
He thought back to the number of phone calls he'd received where the line went dead every time he answered. Neji was relieved that it hadn't been some random prankster but he felt winded with disappointment that it hadn't been who he'd always suspected. How could it have been Sakura if she didn't even call to check up on the twins? He mused unpleasantly.
Either she trusted him enough with them to not pester him every minute about how they were doing or she was simply avoiding having to hear his voice. A part of him wanted to believe it was the former but the facts had been so cruelly laid out on the table that it was impossible to imagine anything but the latter.
"So it wasn't Sakura all along?" Neji thought aloud, and unfortunately he couldn't keep the infuriating wobble from his voice.
"I'm sorry to disappoint," Hanabi drawled mockingly. "Did I?" she pressed with lazy amusement.
"Of course not, I've been meaning to get in touch with you," Neji tried to speak calmly, as though his heart weren't pounding in his throat so hard he felt it would choke him, but his white face and over-bright eyes spoke their own story to Hanabi who was watching him closely.
It was enough that he should be horrified by his own hysterical emotions without having her withering opinion too.
"Sure you were," she began to cut a pancake—which was obviously for Jiro—in small bite sizes.
Her sarcasm lashed him so harshly that he broke the unbearable tension by turning towards the twins. He looked just in time to see Taro hiding his hand behind his back but the evidence was all over Jiro's mouth and clothes. There were even bits of macaroni on his tray.
It was a rare sight—Taro sharing his food. Neji suspected that he was simply rewarding his brother for defending him. However, he was also compelled to believe that Taro fed Jiro cheese to cause trouble. The little imp's heroics were never carried out in a vacuum; there was always an ulterior motive.
He flung them an exasperated glance
Jiro's smile was guilty and cheesy, "Sa wee."
"Cheese will make you sick," Neji pointed a finger at him in light warning.
Taro's eyes widened a fraction as he gaped, "Ji ick?"
"No, but if he does get sick, it'll be your fault," Neji knew he was far too young to have a conscience, but decided to deal the guilt card anyway.
His small face blanched as if his fright and bewilderment grew. "Tall Sackra!"
Neji felt a riot begin in his stomach region at the proposal he heard in Taro's voice, the tone of which altered dramatically when there was no response from his daddy.
"Ji ick!" he echoed and then demanded in a high-pitched rage. "Tall Sackra!"
"Can you translate?" Hanabi asked, placing Jiro's pancake before him.
Neji drew a shocked breath, horrified yet not too surprised at Taro's incredible behaviour. He felt a deep pity, an urgent need to give his son reassurance and comfort, but he knew it was his mother that Taro sought those things from. "He wa-wants me to ca-call Sa-ku-ra be-because Jiro is sick," he stammered, turning from Hanabi's anxious regard.
"What can she do that you can't?" her voice hardened to steel.
He flinched slightly. His feelings in turmoil, he said bleakly, "She took her old job back as a nurse maybe Taro—"
"I heard about that," she cut in casually.
"—thinks she's better equipped to take care of Jiro since she dresses like the ladies that work at their pediatrician's office," he finished off.
The mentioned boy rubbed his tummy, "An-ache!"
"I think he might really be sick," Hanabi's voice was puzzled as she watched Jiro carry on with his antics.
"Don't look so horrified, an-ache means pancakes," with a pretence of affection Neji teased her then raised a silencing hand. "Wait for it—"
Jiro clapped excitedly, "Yum yum! An-ache"
"—there it is," Neji chuckled. "I think Taro misses seeing his mother every day," he added grimly but managed a smile for Jiro when he grinned at him.
Hanabi ushered him to the table and placed a glass of orange juice before him, "That was your last mug of coffee nii-san. I've thrown out all the beans."
Too dispirited to argue, he stared at her.
"What kind of arrangement do you have going on with Sakura?" she sat beside him and clutched unto his arm, as if to transfer some of her strength into him.
He glanced at her hand and brought his eyes to rest on her face. Who would've thought the reason they looked so much alike was because they were in fact brother and sister. "Taro lives with me, Jiro stays with her," he answered offhandedly, glaring at the orange juice. "We alternate weekends because that's when the twins get together."
"But Jiro has been here every day since I started sneaking over—" she pointed out wryly. "—and that was two weeks ago."
Clearly he needed to issue some letters of redundancy to his staff. He didn't like that they kept him in the blue about Hanabi's visits. They knew that security was of utmost importance to him. Whether Hanabi was family or not he should have been informed. "Sakura contracted the pink-eye from one of her patients and I can't release him into her care if he's at risk of catching it."
"But two weeks nii-san? Pink-eye goes away in days." She snorted and smirked knowingly. The taunt in her voice was clearly audible. "Were you hoping she'd get so overwhelmed by how long you kept them from her that she'd storm over here?"
Neji gulped on his chilled beverage quickly as his throat went eerily dry and tight. Just as swiftly he grimaced. "Don't you have school?" he demanded quickly, flushing hotly as he stared back into the intuitive pale eyes.
She settled her other hand on his arm and told him with a hint of smug satisfaction that he scarcely noticed, "Its Saturday nii-san."
"Hanabi, what are you doing here? Hiashi-sama would—"
"Flip?" she supplied. "He knows I've been coming here. Who else can he count on to take pictures of his grandsons to show him?" she watched Neji's reaction closely as the word grandson left her mouth. "In his current condition, he can't come over here himself," her voice lowered off its own accord. "And Hinata's afraid of pissing you off by showing up uninvited."
His shrug was careless. Hell would freeze over before Hiashi set a root in his house. "So were you, to have done it behind my back," he returned with coolness.
"It wasn't that I was afraid to visit while you were here," she told him with an almost arrogant tilt of her neck. "I know how you are nii-san. You always push away the people you love." She squeezed his arm. "I'm used to serving probationary periods for your feuds with father."
Something shot down his spine, stiffening it on the back of the chair. "Don't make this conversation into something else," he whispered, through stiff lips. "We're discussing your behaviour," he reminded her sternly.
"I think you believe that you're protecting us from being hurt by you in doing so," she continued, even though his eyes were shuttered and his expression was impassive almost as if he hoped to quell any further discussion. "But that's exactly what you end up doing."
"Hn."
"Nii-san?" Hanabi whispered, thinking back to the day of the twins birth and how Neji had defended his now ex-wife. "Just answer me one question," she said faintly. "Did you love Sakura?"
He went pale and pain flickered in his eyes. And shame. Though that hadn't been her intention.
He jerked his hand back, a stunned expression on his face. His feelings were the last thing he needed to be reminded of. "What does it matter?" His eyes were like liquid silver, but all the light vanished from their depths as if someone had extinguished a flame. "She left me, didn't she?"
For a moment he thought she'd let it go, but then she squared her shoulders and said in a low, dead voice, "You can't even admit it to me, can you?"
He'd always thought his marriage to Sakura wouldn't be defined by love or emotion, volatility or vulnerability.
Trust.
Companionship.
Friendship.
Respect.
Those were all things he had been on board with. Love? Not so much. It was a messy, raw emotion he had had no desire to embroil himself with. And now as jagged pain tore through his body he knew why he'd always fought against falling victim to that four letter word.
His lips parted to allow his shortened breath to escape. He hesitated a moment and then sighed in resignation. "If I admit it for the first time it will be to no one else but her," he muttered beneath his breath.
"What happened?" Hanabi asked, her voice full of concern.
"What happened was that I was a complete failure of a husband to her," he said in a tight voice. "I think she made the right decision to leave, I didn't deserve her," he choked out. "I ruined her life Hanabi—" that flash of pain entered his eyes again. "—she had goals. Dreams. And because she fell pregnant with Taro and Jiro she had to put them on hold. I tried to right the situation through marriage but I might've been the worst thing that ever happened to her."
The girl blinked. "How can you say that? You gave up your family for that girl. You did everything you could for her!"
"Except treat her fairly," he looked over at his sons; both were preoccupied bartering their breakfast. They were making even more of a mess. "She was honestly the best mistake I'd ever made. Taro and Jiro are my world yet I made her out to be nothing, " his voice changed again and the contempt in it was naked—contempt for himself.
"Shhh toe-can..." Jiro seemed to be alerting his other half of their father's watchful eye.
Taro looked up at him and grinned cheekily. "Ice Daddy," he kissed his cheesy palm and blew it at Neji.
"Don't nice daddy me," he laughed lightly. "You two have no table etiquette, just look at yourselves."
"Eh-pi-et?" Jiro tried to call the word.
Taro snickered at him and said his own pronunciation, as if to tell his brother that it was the correct way of saying the word.
"No!" Jiro shook his head furiously as they went off in a loud and spluttered debate over it.
Hanabi found that Neji's smile came helplessly just watching them. "These are moments you should be sharing with Sakura, nii-san."
The words mocked him like a whip on bleeding skin. He hated that he sat there, tongue-tied, unable to form a single damn word, his heart in knots.
"You went through hell with father to make her your wife, nii-san. It's all in vain if you just let her go."
He moved his shoulders as if the tension in them had become unbearable. "We may have went through hell with Hiashi but I kept her in its flame. She lost our child because of it."
Hanabi's expressive eyes widened in shock. Her mouth popped open and then snapped shut again. She shook her head wordlessly as if she had no idea what to say.
"To beg for forgiveness would be an insult to her," he stared dully into his cup, his vision cloudy. "We haven't spoken in three months—haven't seen each other in that long either. She went as far as to have a friend drop off and pick up the twins in order to avoid me." He coughed to clear the pitiful lump that swelled up in his throat. "Sakura really hates me Hanabi and I don't blame her. Her life was made worse off having known me."
She was still staring at him like she had no idea what to say.
"Is this why you stayed the night—" he suddenly grated, failing miserably to stifle a sniff. "—to wait for the opportune moment to spring all of this on me?"
"Never," she said in her defence. "I know Jiro leaves early today and I wanted to see him off."
Neji cocked up a disbelieving brow but opted to stay muted. He still couldn't wrap his mind around why Hiashi had Hanabi secretly coming to visit the twins. The man had some nerve, after all that he had done to prevent Jiro from simply being—after he covered up his affair with Neji's mother and screwed his own brother over by fathering the only child Hizashi had.
Then there was the horrible stunt he pulled with Sakura's father.
Hiashi knew no boundaries.
When Neji investigated the matter it turned out that it hadn't been a case of lack of financial clearance, rather Kizashi Haruno had been kicked off the waiting list for a heart.
Fortunately they were able to get the surgery done in time, elsewhere. The doctors had looked hopeless but Neji was able to pull some strings and in the end all it took was a trip across the Fire Country. Kizashi came back a little jetlagged but everything had gone smoothly and recovery had been swift. It was around the same time that Sakura had called their relationship quits and the news of Kizashi's surgery being a success had served as an anchor for Neji.
If he died tomorrow he could say he had done one unselfish thing for her.
From the way her father spoke of her, Neji could tell that whatever had happened between Sakura and her parents had been more to her mother's doing. Mebuki still gave him the chills but after spending so much time with the woman, he decided that she wasn't half bad. He thought she would've been hostile towards him after learning that his and Sakura's relationship ended in the divorce she had prophesied but instead she had been uncannily warm and sympathetic. She gave him an earful after learning about the miscarriage, though eventually she declared that things like that happened all the time and he wasn't to be blamed.
They were easy to talk to but some things were just not meant to be shared with them. Sakura was still, after all, their daughter and learning the truth about their relationship and how it came into existence would alter their—well, Mebuki's—already tainted impression of his character. Him being a Hyuuga hadn't scored too many points with her from the very beginning.
Kizashi wasn't one to pass judgment but even he would condemn Neji to the deepest pit in hell if he knew how much he had hurt his Pinkie—Sakura's nickname. Still it baffled him why neither party reached out to the other but it wasn't in his place to ask. He knew they kicked Sakura out but was that basis enough for her to not want them to know her kids? Heck, Hiashi had done worse and he still felt guilty for not letting them get to know the brute. After finding out about the divorce and miscarriage he at least expected them to check up on her at least once.
Kizashi was back on his feet and able to chase the formidable duo of his grandsons around so there was no health condition stopping him from making a visit. It wasn't as if they hadn't a clue where she now held residence. Mebuki retired two months ago and had enough spare time to host Taro, Jiro and Neji over every weekend when the trio was together, but not enough spare time to at least phone Sakura? It was a little more than disconcerting. It seemed they had all left her to her own devices.
Neji had a reason for staying away—she begged him to. For once he had given her feelings priority over his own and as much as it killed him, he felt it was the right thing to do. He fought her feelings when she had loved him, so it was only fair that he came to terms with her resentment and stopped trying to fight it as well.
"I had no clue!" Hanabi suddenly threw her hands around his neck in a fierce hug. "I can't imagine what you must be going through. First your baby, now Sakura," her grip tightened.
He recoiled and reiterated, "I didn't deserve either."
"I don't like seeing you like this!" she got to her feet and stomped towards the counter were she had prepared a plate for him but forgot about it. "You've lost weight, I'm telling father!" she insisted and shoved the plate before him. "He'll fix this!"
Neji sighed at Hanabi's obvious belief that Hiashi wielded a magic wand and could make any problem disappear. He had to admit that sometimes it would appear that way to him as well, but the old man had rather unorthodox ways of shaping situations to suit his liking. There was no telling how far he's go if he learned that Uchiha Sasuke was one of Neji's problem. Hiashi had had a bone to pick with the Uchiha family after Mikoto called off her engagement to him and married the Fugaku Uchiha instead.
It seemed losing out to an Uchiha was a generational curse.
There was an entire swimming pool of bad blood between both families because of the humiliation suffered from it all. Neji had heard the story a countless number of times but had never truly felt any remorse for Hiashi. Landing another lady—someone else's lady—didn't seem to have been a problem or Neji wouldn't have been in existence today. It was hypocritical to chastise Fugaku for the same thing he did to his own brother...except that Hiashi hadn't had the decency to marry her!
"He should concern himself with his health and not my problems," Neji said.
Her face changed, she paused for a moment, bringing her eyes to his. "He wants to set things right with you before he leaves."
After a critical assessment, Neji mentally declared the food safe—or at least it looked edible—enough to eat and tired a piece of bacon. "Where is he going?" he shrugged warily.
"Father has leukaemia nii-san," Hanabi reminded him gravely. "There's only one place he could be going," she told him grimly; there was no mistaking what she meant.
Neji was largely unmoved, "Everyone gets there one way or the other."
"Well his ticket is booked for next month." Her voice was quiet, but exerted a force of will Neji really didn't feel up to challenging.
He could only stare wide-eyed at her, his heart suddenly raw and heavy. "What?"
OoOoOoOo
The stillness of daybreak was disrupted by the sound of a whistling kettle. There was a loud, feline yawn accompanied by the sound of furniture dragging against tiles as Haruno Sakura settled herself down at the kitchen table.
The aroma of black coffee wafted heavily in the air. It pierced through the foggy veils of grogginess with the smooth, rich scent of roasted beans.
She smiled appreciatively when her cold palms flexed against the warmth that seeped through the ceramic of the mug as it was placed in her hands. A deep sense of contentment washed over her upon her first sip. The coffee was full-bodied, with rich texture, heaviness on the tongue and a lingering bitter finish. Somehow he knew exactly the way she liked it.
"You don't have to do this. The boys are with their father—" she had stopped referring to Neji by name. He was just the twin's father to her, the same as she had always been Taro and Jiro's mother to him. "—so I think I can manage on my own," she smiled, but her companion didn't miss the sorrowful lowering of her long lashes.
He didn't miss anything.
Sasuke shrugged dismissively, "It has become a habit," he explained flatly. "Sometimes when they're not here, I still hear them in my head so I automatically get up and march over here." His forehead creased slightly, as if to fend off a migraine just thinking about it.
Sakura's lips curled in a wry grin, "Admit it, you miss them," she urged playfully, her spirits lifting at the mention of her sons.
She missed them enough to—would actually—give anything just to have Taro claw at or bite her when she didn't let him have his own way. And that was saying something because she didn't welcome any act of cruelty from the brat.
The raven haired man cringed slightly before heaving a sigh of defeat. But it wasn't as if the words that followed his gesture indicated any surrender, "I don't like kids—"
She knitted her brows in silent warning, an indication that Sasuke ought to select his words carefully. As taken as she had been—probably still was—with him, when it came to her sons, she had zero tolerance for snide remarks.
"—but I like yours," he added with ease and without haste, comfortably unfazed by the dark look etched across her face. "And even if I miss them, my eardrums are grateful for the break."
Surely they weren't that loud? Sakura thought to herself with a chortle. She rather liked when they were lively and noisy, their squeals and giggles were an absolute delight. It was the screams that she dreaded. They usually meant Taro had started a fight and that Jiro had sustained some sort of injury.
She studied Sasuke's features with a bemused frown. A helpless laugh bubbled out of her throat because there was something very amusing about the way in which he admitted that he missed her little monsters, as he liked to refer to them.
The twins had been gone for two weeks, it was the longest that she had ever gone without seeing either of them. And since it was approaching their first birthday and she had gotten over her pink-eye, she was growing more anxious as to why they hadn't been returned to her as yet.
She hadn't seen Neji since their divorce had been finalized three months ago. The last she saw of him was that look of disbelief he shot her after they left the lawyer's office. Sakura still couldn't believe she had actually gone through with it. Tenten was the one who pick up and dropped off Taro and Jiro at his house for her. She didn't want to see him, didn't want to know how he was doing.
She wanted it to be as if he had never entered her life's doors. But that wasn't possible, was it? Taro and Jiro were living proof of what had happened to her—what had changed her forever. Hyuuga Neji had happened. And she had foolishly—blindly married him, conceived a second time around and lost his child.
Despite all her strenuous efforts, all her relief and gladness to have parted with him and to have a better future to look forward to, she could still feel the memories and worst of all the dreams—pressed like ghosts against a windowpane—tormenting her, haunting her.
Would she ever be free of them? Surely one day the dreams would stop, the memories would dim, he would disappear and her heart would cease to beat for him? Just as the brief, fragile life within her had ceased.
Yet it seemed almost as if with each passing day—even though she had a new job, her kids and other things to shut out the memories, to divert and occupy her mind and attention—that when the memories broke through they were more powerful, more vivid than before.
Sometimes, just for a glimpse, she could almost imagine seeing him—seeing the tall, familiar figure watching her, those silver, long-lashed eyes washing over her, making her weak and breathless and boneless—brainless, filling her with longing…
And then with bleak, black loathing…
That was what she had to cling to. Not the quickening heart-rate, the catch of her breath, the ache inside her. The bleak, black loathing—that was all she must feel.
But better to feel nothing at all. She didn't want to love him anymore, she didn't want to love anyone; love meant betrayal and pain and disillusionment, and she had had enough of that to last a lifetime.
And yet she couldn't close that chapter of her life.
Her throat constricted, "Jiro must be wondering where I am?" she sighed in despair.
Sasuke narrowed his eyes at her, "They both must be."
Colour rose to her cheeks at the implication she sensed, "Of course but—"
"You don't care about Taro," he cut in coolly. His narrowed glance was swiftly speculative and taunting.
Her gaze dropped to her feet and in went the lip between her teeth. She didn't say a word. But her silence said it all. He felt a slash of guilt for the thoughtless comment.
"Sakura," he whispered her name in apology.
She set her empty mug aside and glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. "—but Jiro and I have never been apart this long before. Taro's accustomed to not seeing me as often," she finished off softly, then leveled her eyes on Sasuke, "How can you say that?"
He made no reply, just went on resting his eyes on her. She had no option but to go on.
Sakura swallowed, biting back the emotion that cracked in her throat. Her heart slugged heavily, it felt like he was accusing her of something. "He maybe a monster but it's my own fault why he's like that, Sasuke. He's my monster; I have to love him regardless."
He looked unconvinced, "You say it like it's a liability you have to bear." He eyed her sardonically and echoed her words. "Have to love him regardless?"
"You know I don't mean it like that," she told him helplessly. "It's just some times he gets me so angry—reminds me so much of how—"
He interrupted her hot-faced mumbling, his voice brisk and devoid of expression. "He's just a baby who had all that was familiar to him ripped from his grasp. Cut him some slacks."
There was a pain like a knife turning in her heart, and she took a big gulp of the burning hot coffee, shutting her eyes tightly for a moment as though to blank her mind.
She now knew and understood why Sasuke never complained about Taro's behaviour. He too had had his world turned upside down at an early age—just not quite in a similar fashion. His parents died and he took a heavy knock from it. He grew cold and distant. Often times he'd feud with his older brother just because he thought Itachi was handling the tragedy too well. Sakura supposed Sasuke saw a reenactment of his younger self in Taro, especially where fights with Jiro were concerned.
Her heart lurched and thumped again. "I do love Taro, it's probably the brat who can't stand me," she laughed. "He's too young to understand what's going on but I think he blames me for leaving."
Sasuke set his cup aside and looked seriously at her, "Don't you think it's messed up that you've separated your twins?" For a moment, seeing the angry tightening of his mouth, Sakura felt guilt, but he merely shrugged again, contemptuously. "I don't blame the Hyuuga for keeping them this long. They hardly see each other."
Anger freed her tongue impulsively, "Are you condoning his behaviour? You do know that this is just to spite me right?" Her eyes widened with apprehension as she stared at him. This much concern coming from Sasuke was unnatural.
"If you missed them that badly you would have found yourself over there," he argued flatly, his face hard.
She bit the inside of her mouth and stared blankly into her remaining coffee. "I don't want to see or have anything to do with him," she snapped as if she'd found resolve. "What time is Tenten going to pick them up?"
Sasuke's frown deepened, "I will not tolerate this arrangement much longer." His voice was so harshly determined that she shrank. "She's not running a school bus."
Mysteriously disconcerted, Sakura held unto her mug with numb fingers. "Who would've thought you would be so possessive over a woman who, I'm not too sure likes you very much," she teased with scathing sweetness.
"Oh she likes me alright," the statement carried a dignified yet very suggestive coolness. "Who would've thought you've be divorced with two kids before making it to twenty-five?" he retorted. The black eyes were laughing at her, and she could have hit him.
Sakura laughed lightly, but the sound wasn't pleasant. She wasn't aware of the pain that had turned her emerald eyes almost forest green; she just knew that his words had licked at a raw wound.
She saw him suddenly bite his lip. A husky, strangled sound escaped from his throat, and it was a moment or two before he said, with a careful lack of expression that spoke its own story, "I thought you'd still be chasing me around."
He was laughing at her.
She stiffened, her outrage evident in every line of her body, but in the next moment he leant forward to touch her face gently with the palm of his hand in a gesture she was sure was meant to be just comforting, but which she found extremely disturbing. Especially as his nearness forced her to acknowledge the faint, male smell of him, the broadness of his chest and—
"What time is Tenten going to pick up the boys?" she asked again, looking away.
"She left a long time ago. Apparently the Hyuuga had plans and called her to collect them early," he had noticed her physical withdrawal at his closeness; she could see it in the sudden tightening of his mouth and the narrowing of his eyes. "I don't want her hanging around him too much," he muttered with a decisive bite, like he too had found resolve and drew back. "I'm not too sure I like the idea of them exchanging numbers either."
She met his eyes then. His features were expressionless and she couldn't tell what he was thinking but knew he was dead serious. Still she grinned, "I have a feeling that's one of the reasons why Taro isn't so fond of you."
He gave a rasp of irritation and told her pointedly, "That kid only likes his father."
"You're always trying to boss his Coco around," she snorted.
Coco was the nickname that Taro and Jiro had given Tenten. Sakura supposed that it was probably because her eyes and hair reminded them of chocolate. They had an unhealthy obsession with anything in general, that was bad for health in large proportions.
Mac en Tease
Ache
Ummy Ber
Hai squeam
Free Thiken
Oli pop
They were the twin's codes for macaroni and cheese, cake, gummy bear, ice-cream, fried chicken and lollipop respectively. She giggled to herself, hearing their demanding, little voices in her head. She couldn't help but feel saddened by the fact that when they eventually got the words correct, she'd miss their adorable little way of referring to things.
Jiro had even starting saying "mommy" and "kaa-can". And well...Taro called her "Sackra", no surprise there. He was of the belief that he knew everything and would simply correct her whenever she pointed at Jiro and said "nii-san" or to herself and said "kaa-san." They were "Ji" and "Sackra" to him and she didn't think even the almighty himself could convince Taro otherwise.
"Hn," Sasuke rolled his shoulders casually but his glare had intent. "His?"
She nodded, "I think he has a crush on her."
Taro followed Tenten around like a lost puppy. If anyone could get him to behave it was her. She didn't have to be stern, Taro was unusually well-behaved when she was around, much like a loverlorn fool trying to make an impression. Sakura found it cute—Sasuke...not so much.
"Too bad," he derided humourlessly. "He's not her type," his voice was firm but not annoyed.
"Is that so?" Her eyes were deep pools of laughter. "Taro could definitely tap that."
A small silence fell, she wasn't sure why.
"Sakura," he growled.
Her porcelain-like skin chilled at the uncompromising grimness she saw in those dark eyes. "It was a joke Sasuke. Don't get so defensive."
"As much as I love your kids, I hate competing with them," His eyes were black, his skin pale, his beautiful bone structure taut under stress. "Now she's asking me for brats of our own," he pinched the bridge of his nose as if the very idea repulsed him.
Disregarding the last half of his statement, Sakura reacted like a woman who had been shot in the chest. She stopped moving, stopped breathing. "What did you just say?" she prompt hoarsely and lifted gentle fingers to cover those taut cheeks and held those black eyes with her own earnest green ones. "You love them?"
He peeled her hand away and grunted laconically, "Don't read too much into it."
She couldn't wipe the smile from her lips, "I never thought the first time I'd hear those words they'd come from you," she admitted rather bitter-sweetly.
He elevated a brow, "What do you mean?"
She shrugged and kept all emotion out of her voice, "He had never actually said it, or at least I've never heard him say it."
Sasuke didn't move, and her words hung like something unclean in the stark, scream-pitched silence that followed. And as she looked into his face she saw a stranger metamorphose in front of her with eyes that were fire and a mouth that was a straight line in the hardness of his face. She heard him take a deep breath.
"Then let me say something else the Hyuuga's probably not man enough to say either—" she felt paralyzed by the raw emotion in his face and voice, unable to move, to make any response.
She closed her eyes, but still the glittering black gaze was there in front of her closed eyelids, burning its way into her brain.
He gave her a gentle little shake, but his voice was tight when he said, "—the problem was never that I didn't love you, surely you must've known."
His words were meant to be brutal, to shock her out of the brokenness he felt she was feeling, but they got no reaction and it puzzled him.
He cupped her small jaw in his hand, "Had I accepted my feelings sooner I could've prevented you from going through all of this. We could've been—" the words were torn out of him and snapped her eyes open to his. "It's my greatest regret. But let's face it Sakura, I was never deserving of you."
The world went very still as he said it, and for a moment everything was picked out in painful detail—the look on his face, the angle of his body, the coffee-stained counter and the bright light above their head.
"Are you speaking for Neji or yourself?" she asked weakly, forcing the painful tightness in her throat.
He gave her a long, steady look. His eyes held hers locked. There was a silence that stretched and lengthened.
"Well are you, Sasuke?" a voice asked from the archway. It was soft, calm, but with a terrible determination to wring an answer out of the now shell-shocked Uchiha.
"Mommy!" Jiro squealed, stretching his arm out for Sakura to come take him.
But all she saw was Tenten standing there. She didn't move, not a muscle. For what seemed an endless moment she stared at them, her face was white but her brown eyes were scorching amber.
Sasuke stared back, equally immobile, holding his breath as his heart thudded so hard Sakura could hear it.
Then Tenten straightened suddenly and it was as though a veil had been drawn down over her face, masking all emotion. "Taro didn't want to come. I even tried to bribe him with a pack of gummy bears," she laughed but there was no mirth in it.
Sakura's heart sank.
Jiro flashed his own small packet, "Mommy, Coco ice!"
"Did she get that for you?" she chirped with an overly dramatic gape before getting to her feet to retrieve her son. "I guess she's pretty nice isn't she? I hope you didn't give her too much trouble," she ruffled his hair and showered him with kisses.
"No!" he returned a couple of her pecks and turned to Tenten with a big smile, "Hank ew."
"Aww, you're welcome," she pinched his cheeks. "You're too cute."
"Look," Sakura said, holding on to Tenten's arm just as the girl was about to make a dash. She wanted to set the record straight before the brunette got any ideas.
Tenten forced a smile to her face, "I'll see you later, I have some chores to catch up on," came her lame excuse.
Chores? The most Tenten did was cook, everyone knew Sasuke was her bitch. Sakura had seen her knock him around enough times to know who wore the pants in their relationship.
Her cell phone rang just as she released Jiro on the floor. He crawled to the feet of Sasuke and cutely demanded to be picked up. "Ashkay!" he pouted.
"It's not what you think."
Tenten did not look amused or won over. Still that infuriating smile never left her face, though it was beginning to distort. It must've been hurtful to hear Sasuke openly express remorse over how his life turned out because he missed out on his chance with Sakura.
"Nothing is going on between us—could ever go on between us. Not when he's involved with you and especially not when I've still yet to get over Neji," she said carelessly—as if it was any consolation—as she answered the call. "Hello?"
"Don't lie Sakura," she knew that voice anywhere even above the static noises over the line.
Something was happening to her. Something deep down. In her guts. Something she didn't like.
Slime. Was that it? Was that what she didn't like about how her name slid off his tongue? Like slime.
No, she thought slowly. Definitely not slime. That she could handle—probably would've welcomed. This was worse. What the voice was doing to her hit somewhere completely different.
She could feel it happening. Feel the slow, heavy slug of her heart rate. Feel the blood start to pulse.
Sakura froze. Entirely opposite reactions flashed through her. One was an instinct to hang up the phone. The second was a bolt of hot electricity that shocked her to her core.
It was Neji.
A/N: Reviews are very much appreciated :) However if you're going to leave a flame, save it for a day when the power's out and you're gonna need it to light a candle (-_-)
It is not my intention to offend anyone with the following rant. My muse suffered blunt force trauma from some things and I felt like explaining why this went un-updated for so long. Here goes...
To be honest I've developed somewhat of a phobia to this story. For a while I was too traumatized to trouble myself with updating it. I've had plenty of complaints (especially explosive PMs) about the level of Sakura-angst in this fic and it kind of put me off...come on guys, have you not read the manga?! Sakura-angst galore! I've simply employed it differently and used an AU setting. I'm not trying to glorify or romanticize cruelty, but I will not apologize for how I portrayed the characters or wrote my story. I will not change it to suit your ideals either. Tragedy isn't partial and believe it or not there are people far more emotionally constipated than Neji. I've never been a fan of the smooth sailing romance so if you're looking for a fairytale, feel free to browse the K+ filter, this shit isn't for you. I mean no disrespect what-so-ever.
Another thing that killed my buzz was the number of flames that I had to delete regarding the NejiSaku pairing. Seriously, grow the fuck up. I choose my pairings based on personality dynamics/complexes, I don't have time for mindless shipping feuds. Some people don't fucking care how the manga ended— like princesshyuuga01! Congrats to the SS and NH shippers :) BUT this story was NejiSaku when I started it and that won't change nor will I EVER stop writing NejiSaku/SasuTen. Deal the fuck with it or click on someone else's profile. My stories, my choices! Stop hating on me for wanting to cater to pairing minorities.
Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot write? Don't like it, write your own. Can't appreciate angst? Stop reading my stuff. Don't like NejiSaku? Join the long line of people waiting for me to give a fuck.
There! I've said it. I'm done taking shit.