"I love you because you are not mine, because you are from the other side, from there where you invite me to jump, and I cannot make the jump."
― Julio Cortázar
"Countertransference? Neji, I wouldn't have guessed you were susceptible of such a thing."
He thinks Hinata is doing her best to be neutral about it, but her tone betrays her. Or perhaps he is looking to hear judgment in her voice to justify the one he has cast on himself. But he trusts her opinion and her intentions, and he would go to nobody else with the troubling doubts that nest in his head. Most relevantly to the situation, they are both professionals. Despite not really feeling like one lately, Neji still knows good therapists have consultations of their own, and poor therapists crack under the pressure of other peoples' complex psyches.
"You know," Hinata begins again. "It can happen to anybody. In fact, it happens to most of us at some point of another. I think I read a statistic once, and apparently -"
"I don't need to be made to feel better about this. I need to figure out how to proceed."
"I think you need to stop judging yourself. You haven't made some terrible mistake here, Neji. Getting emotionally invested in a particular patient is bound to happen to every therapist at one point or another."
There is a crescent moon etched between his eyebrows, and his eyes are glazed over, thinking, not seeing her. The lines on his face betray his age, though Hinata can't remember Neji ever being young. He used to be a child, and now he is an adult.
She sighs.
"A couple of years back, I worked with a young widower for a few months. A moderately severe case of thanatophobia and repressed grief, if I remember correctly. Anyway, one day, he comes in with dried baby food on his sleeve. From that point on, I cried in the bathroom before and after every single session until the day he walked out of my office for the last time."
He is silent for a couple of moments, scratching his chin. Finally, he looks up.
"How did you handle that situation?"
"That was me handling it. Dealing with those emotions in my own time made sure I was a decent psychologist to him in session. You need to focus on your patient's needs, and not on making sure that you feel good about yourself coming out of this."
Neji opens his mouth, ready to tell her that that's not good enough, but shuts it back again when the waitress sets down their drinks.
The cups are wide, colorful, and mismatched, but consistent with the stylish pastel aesthetic of the teashop his cousin had chosen. And among the hanging plants, baby-blue armchairs and Smeg kitchenware, Hinata, with her lilac jumper and easy smile, fits right in. She is a logical component of every pleasant space he has ever seen her in.
"You're right," he sighs. "This is the biggest proof that I've been a poor therapist. Instead of prioritizing her needs, I have been second-guessing every decision I've made."
"You know," Hinata chirps, emptying a sugar sachet. "You're always so clinical and academic with your patients, so it's very amusing to see you struggling with empathy. I wonder what it is about her."
"Nothing. Clinically, she's a very straightforward case. Not anything I haven't taken up a dozen times before. It's her... attitude, I think."
He rakes his mind for the right words, hoping they came with answers to his questions.
"Sometimes she walks into my office, and it feels like meeting with a friend. She makes fun of me for wearing slacks and I think it's funny."
Hinata smiles. "I think slacks suit you."
Neji lifts his cup to his lips. Some fruity infusion assaults his senses, and he decides this is the first and last time he lets Hinata order for him. Nothing good comes from his distractedness.
"And I'm not my father. I don't think it's the end of the world that you would enjoy a client's company. They're people, we're people. But if it's worrying you, then this is something that you need to keep an eye on. If it becomes a bad for her progress progress, or it turns into erotic countertransference -"
"That's ridiculous."
"No, it's not. It's very common, and you would have known this if you didn't consider yourself above attending patient relationship seminars." Her eyes demand he faces her now. "Whatever happens, Neji, we will handle it."
It's a simple sentence Hinata speaks with a lot of ease, but it still steals his words for a few heartbeats. Then, his lips quirk on their own.
"I don't consider myself above seminars, I just don't want to go. I have you."
"I'm not sure if that was sweet or not, but it felt like it, so thank you, cousin."
"You drink disgusting tea though."
"Let that be a lesson in proactivity to you. Maybe next time you won't come in here as stiff as a tax consultant, then tell Suli that you'll be having "whatever she's having" all mysteriously."
"Understood."
"Oh, Neji," Hinata sets her tea down. "Can I ask for a favor, please?"
Suspicion rises to the surface. His cousin, the most unlazy person Neji knows, doesn't refuse to do anything that needs to be done. It is a matter of wanting to do something, then. But he does not turn her down, the most unselfish person in his life.
Neji doesn't like gatherings.
He doesn't like how repressive formal clothes are, not because of the cut, but because they demand he keeps his head high and his shoulders back in aн unnatural way. He doesn't like food that comes on a toothpick or having to drink white wine if only to avoid the other two choices: red wine and sparkling water.
Most importantly, Neji detests having to stand in a small circle with his uncle and his peers: middle-aged, esteemed psychologists, all holding a glass and nodding along with whatever is being said. The way they speak is standardized, the same topics rotating each time even if they did come together twice a year.
The pale liquid swirls around his glass. Neji likes to play with the little waves, to test how close he can get them to the rim without spilling.
"You know, Neji, maybe you could get that published in the Journal of Experimental Psychology. I actually have a dear colleague on the board, I'm sure he'll be willing to look at your work."
The condescension grates against his brain as he looks up. He doesn't know what the general subject is, but the men in front of him always have a way of circling back to Neji's work whenever the ceiling above their heads happens to be the same.
"I've already been published there. Twice."
Hiashi clears his throat. "Yes, Neji has shown a remarkable aptitude for research. I expect a fruitful academic career from him. He is young, he has time to weed out the more… speculative aspects of his work."
Neji looks at his uncle. Hiashi is not a man who relies on consensus too often, but he is offering one now.
Neji suspects this has less to do with preserving his peace of mind, and more with the clinic's spectacular reputation. But the day is nearly over, and so he allows the conversation to continue without him keeping track of who says what and who laughs at whom.
"I just don't see why you young folks are in such a hurry to make a name for yourselves. I mean, are you even thirty yet?"
"Exactly. When I was that age, I considered myself lucky if my mentor allowed me to read his abstracts."
"Hah! I wrote his university lectures and took his car to the wash."
"And that's because all of you are men. I had to claw and eat people alive just to be given the opportunity to write a thesis."
"I would have preferred being a woman to being an immigrant during the 80s."
Neji can't be sure how many of them are speaking now because none of them are speaking to him. His mind slips further away from their voice, and his eyes drift over his surroundings. He only knows that next time, Hinata would be attending without him. She is the heiress, after all.
The event is held in the venue hall attached to a local Polish church. The space is plain enough to support anything, from small weddings to cocktails and quinceaneras. The walls are white and there is no natural light, though the place is as bright as a hospital.
That is probably how he notices her. Her brown dress, although incredibly plain, has a satin finish which catches every blown-out light in the room, and his eye.
He neither expected nor didn't expect to see here. He was sure there are too many soldiers and units in the city for him to find her at a charity event for this specific veteran center.
"If you'll excuse me," he begins, without any recollection of intending to speak. "I have to greet a few people."
She is surprised when he quietly calls her name once he is close enough.
"Fancy seeing you here."
"Surprising too," Neji replies evenly. "How are you doing, Tenten?"
"Great. And it's not as surprising as you think. Our foundation has a whole community support network: regular players like businesses and churches. Lots of mental health facilities too, obviously."
So, the chances of running into her were never low.
"Hey, do you think they refer soldiers to your clinic because you guys give us, like, coupons or something? Discounts?"
"Not that I know of. A loyalty program makes much more sense, though."
His words dawn on him just as he is lifting his glass to his lips. He freezes with the horror of it, and the apologies begin formulating and reformulating in his head.
I'm sorry Tenten, that out of line and distasteful.
Please excuse me, it was a crude and unprofessional thing to say.
But she starts laughing before he can even open his mouth, an inelegant hollering that has people looking over from the other side of the hall. Her hand rests on her chest.
"That was a terrible thing to say," she grins. "You're funny. You should be my drinking buddy tonight."
"Your what?"
"It means exactly what you think it does."
He watches her down her glass of red wine. The color compliments the deep tones of her eyes and dress, and Neji wants to gauge out his eyes for seeing things the way they do.
"Maybe you shouldn't be doing that," he eventually strains out.
"I don't see why not."
"I'm sure there are simpler ways to deflect than to get plastered on cheap-"
"Should you be doing that?"
"What am I doing?"
"You're therapist-ing. Deflect? Really? No one says that in the real world."
"It's a professional deformation."
"That's a rationalization and you know it."
His lips curve slightly. "Now who's therapist-ing? But you're right. I almost never do this in my own time. I guess I'm just trying to give my brain chores."
"Are you trying to say this fundraiser, meant to raise money and spread awareness about veteran PTSD, unstimulating?"
Neji's smile disappears, and he once again finds himself shocked by his own behavior.
"No, I just-"
"I'm joking, relax. I didn't expect you to be this serious out of the office. Probably something to do with the hair. I associated it with a hippie."
"Quite the contrary. It's a centuries old tradition among the men of my family."
Tenten snorts, taking a moment. "Thisis the most bourgeois thing I've ever heard. No wonder you rushed to call the wine cheap. Say, do you have a family crest, or a tomb where you all get buried together?"
Neji's voice remains flat. "I'm not telling you; you seem way too amused."
"Amused? No, I'm amazed."
She snatches another glass from a caterer, but not before catching the way Neji looks at her.
"Give me a break. We lost a lot of comrades this year, I'm expecting a long and depressing evening. And once the similarly toned speeches start, you'll wish you were drunk too."
She waves and greets at a few people who pass them by, but Neji doesn't register any of them. His mind has a grip on him now; a red, striped roadblock set up. His previous behavior seems distant and goofy, and he is embarrassed to have found himself relaxing in her presence, a young, traumatized client whose file he kept in the drawer with the rest of them. And so soon after consulting Hinata about it.
"Hello, Neji."
They turn to see Hinata, dresses in a pale cocktail dress. Her hair is straight and neat against her back, and it barely moves with her dancer-like posture, although Neji can sense the first signs of crowd stress in her eyes. She turns to Tenten with a polite, but not disingenuous smile.
"I'm Hinata Hyūga."
"Tenten. I think you ditched my case for something more interesting a month or two ago."
Neji can tell Hinata is caught off guard, either by meeting the woman they had spent the morning discussing, or by Tenten's unceremonious ways.
"I-no, it was an unfortunate glitch."
"I'm just teasing," Tenten smiles. "All is well that ends well, right?"
Neji realizes she is toning down her bite to match Hinata's introversion, and the effort makes his head spin with appreciation.
"Anyway, speak of the devil. We have our first speech for the night."
Sure enough, an old man with a remarkable head of hair is being helped up the stage, the ramp proving to be a bit unsteady. He tries to shrug off all attempts for help, but eventually allows a young, blond man to give him a hand. They have trouble adjusting the microphone stand, and the speakers protest with the friction, making evryone in the room wince.
"Thank you, Naruto. This boy… always here to make an old man feel, well, old."
A few people chuckle.
"Anyway, I hope some of you know who I am. To those of you who don't, my name is Might Guy. I have had the unparalleled privilege of guiding some of the young, and middle aged, people in this room."
A round of polite applause sounds.
"You know… my parents always considered our family a big one. I have four siblings, double the number of cousins, and, at this point, God knows how many nieces and nephews. Logically, my family thinks I have no children. To them, family is a matter of blood and surnames. But I always tell them: I've lost more kids than any of you have ever had."
Neji watches people around him nod solemnly, humming.
"But I've walked just as many down the aisle. I've been there for every hospital visit, every barbeque, every birthday. I have more godchildren than Corleone, I'll have you know."
"Yeah, Sensei!" Naruto claps, earning a few chuckles.
"If you are here today, that means that you help me raise my children, and then help me get 'em back on their feet once this job does a number on them. Sadly, it often does. I would like to especially thank: The Aburame Food Group, Senju Constructions, Uchiha and Partners, and the Hyūga Psychology Center, who have been with us from the beginning, almost twenty years now."
"What we do isn't pleasant, but somebody has to do it. And while you don't know many of the young men and women I have had the honor of serving with, trust me when I tell you that you don't want anybody else keeping you safe out there. So, thank you, dear friends, for keeping them safe out here."
He raises his empty hand as if he is holding a glass.
"Cheers."
The man's words buzz in Neji's ears, and he watches the microphone stand with bleary eyes long after he disappears from the stage.
A clink brings him back. By his side, Tenten is looking up at him with a wary expression.
"He said cheers, that means it's now socially acceptable to drink." She touches her glass against his own again, the sound ringing mockingly, but doesn't take a sip, studying him.
"Are you alright? I mean, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
"No, it wasn't." He looks at her. "Cheers, Tenten."
A/N: Life got in the way + I needed months to make up my mind about the direction I wanted to take this story in. No more delays from this point on. Not a lot of chapters left either.
p.s. The events are not taking place in a specific country, I combined elements from different systems. My intention is not to make a political statement. This is a simple short story about two people :)