A/N: This chapter basically wrote itself. I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Beginnings
Tenten is the first to wake the next morning. It takes her a full minute of staring at the unfamiliar ceiling to remember where she is and everything that had transpired the day before. Neji is sound asleep beside her, his dark hair fanning on his pillow and his hands folded on his stomach. A picture of regality, Tenten muses. His features are soft and his brow lacks its usual tension. She thinks it is strange to see him this way, his face unadorned with its usual marks of alertness, so that he looks no more a soldier than the scrawny village boys that had attempted to gain her hand in marriage.
The Hyuga elders have granted Neji three days of leisure, a sort of honeymoon, before he must return to war preparations. She does not know what they will make of their idle time together. She knows what is customary for newlyweds to do during their honeymoon, but she has no desire for motherhood, and she cannot imagine Neji ever giving in to such primal desires. He will leave her to do as she pleases, and she will give him his space, and they will learn to dwell in a kind of peaceful companionship- at least that is what she hopes.
Slowly she feels the last of her drowsiness slip away and she rises from the bed. She does not know much about being a wife, and Neji has never told her what he expects from her, but she thinks of how her mother prepares tea every morning for her father and decides that at least this task she can manage.
The kitchen has been tidied and stocked by the servants. Tenten finds a teapot and two cups, and as she sets them down on the table she is careful that the china does not clink and disturb the quiet. She lights a fire for the stove and sets the water to boil. She adds the same tea leaves and spices she has seen her mother use, and to her surprise, her heart lurches at the familiar fragrance that fills the kitchen. She did not expect herself to be homesick. She remembers Neji's anger when he had last visited her in the smithy. He was right of course, and she had known the truth herself before he had ever said it. She does not belong here, kneeling in this kitchen, pretending to be a dutiful wife. She never will. She can deny it no longer, cannot set aside her fears, as she had so often done, thinking she would contend with them after the wedding. The wedding has passed, and she is a married woman now. As she pours the tea into the teapot, not a drop spilling, she feels anxiety grip her. There is no soot to wipe from her robes when she stands, though her hands run through the motions anyway. Memories of the smithy linger at the periphery of her mind, but she does not let her thoughts wander there. She is trying to keep her will.
She is startled when she hears the screen door to their bedroom slide open. She had not even heard Neji stir. He is a soldier, of course, and walks with a stealth he has honed his whole life. He eyes the tea cups in her hands and his brows dip in amusement. "I expected that I would be the one to make us tea every morning."
She blinks in surprise. She tells him she did not expect him to know anything of such delicate tasks as tea making. "I did not expect it of you either," he counters, though there is no heat in his words. As a soldier he knows the basics of cooking, he explains, taking the cups from her hands and setting them down at the table before he kneels on the cushion. She can feel his keen, attentive gaze assess her precision as she pours the tea into the cups. Not a drop spills. He asks if her mother taught her this skill.
Her lips curve. "Absolutely not."
She asks if he slept well, and he compliments the flavors of her tea, but mostly they drink in silence. However, Tenten can sense an unusual eagerness in Neji's mannerisms. "I have something to show you," he reveals, after she asks if he has anything planned for the day. When they are finished he bids her to leave the cups and pot on the table and leads her out to the gardens behind their home.
She knows what he has built for her as soon as she sees the structure, before Neji even utters a word of explanation. In the back corner of the garden, near the border of the forest, stands a smithy. She swallows thickly as they step inside, drinking in every detail. She notices he has arranged the tools in the same manner as she had in her father's smithy. She touches a hand to the forge, its surface gleaming and not yet caked with years of soot.
Neji lingers at the door, still radiating an eager energy. He looks at her expectantly, awaiting her judgment, but she is speechless. "Is it to your liking?" he asks finally.
"Yes." Her reply is breathless. So many questions flitter through her mind, but none so pressing as the question of why?
"You belong here," he tells her resolutely. She is free to spend her time here as she wishes. Her skills would be wasted away in dormancy if she were to keep up the charade of a traditional wife. "I have no need for such formalities. Do you?"
She is embarrassed at her tears, but she feels they are an appropriate display of her gratitude. "Thank you," she manages finally, the words coming as a quiet croak. Neji's touch is as gentle as the day they had met, when he had lifted her chin and unflinchingly met her defiant gaze. He wipes at her tears, his expression unreadable. They had both made a concession on the day they had met, an agreement to tolerate one another, but this- this is something more. She cannot quite find the term for it. It seems she has misjudged him again. She nods dazedly as Neji tells her he has some reading to finish, and leaves her in the smithy. She is grateful for the privacy, and the moment he leaves she sinks into the chair by the door and lets her face fall into her hands.
Overwhelmed, she cries and cries.
A/N: Thank you for reading and please review!
~M.I.
