Thanks to the wonderful response I've gotten regarding my Orochimaru fic, I've decided to go ahead and post this one as well, as they're both written in a very similar style. I was reluctant at first to post this, because I've seen a number of fics written on Neji and I like to at least try to be more original. However, I have yet to find a fic that I think fully captures his perspective, and since he is my favorite character from the Naruto series, I wanted to give my own perspective.

Will there be pairings in this fic? Yes. However, a fic isn't defined by its pairings. Rather, the pairing is a part of the story and thus I'll leave you to find out when the story progresses that far.

I hope you enjoy this first chapter and as always I adore feedback. So please read and review. Let me know what you're thinking!

-sor


Memories are strange things. You can forget what you ate for lunch only a few days ago, but you can remember clear as a bell events that happened when you were hardly old enough to make sense of the world. But then, for the longest time, the world never seemed to make sense. If there ever had been a time, it must have been beyond memory.

The first thing I remember is the sealing.

Not details and not the process itself, but I remember crying when it was finished. I remember my father lifting me up and holding me to his chest in that protective manner that is so instinctive to all parents. His entire form was shaking as if on the verge of some great explosion. When we didn't leave, I lifted my head, which had been buried firmly against his shoulder, and peered tentatively over my arm as I clung tightly to his neck. Hiashi-sama was there, looking as silent and impassive as ever. The tension between them was so great that I even forgot my own pain for a moment and glanced in shock from one to the other.

It might as well have been a meeting between two titans. My father's face was like stone. No, it was worse; as if he had become, if only for a moment, some angry, vengeful demon out of nightmares. The hatred in him was tangible, solid and real enough that it even stopped my tears and left me in a quiet awe, nearly unaware of the ache in my forehead. Never had I seen my father in such a state and it frightened me. It must have left Hiashi-sama unsettled as well, for it brought out the tone he only used to assert his authority. "Hizashi, take him home."

Father didn't budge, though. His hold on me tightened for a moment, and though it was a bit too tight, I didn't complain. I could sense in father that he needed it more than I needed to snuggle comfortingly against him. There is only so much that can be done when faced with a member of the main family and though I knew that every fiber of his being wanted nothing more than to strike out, my father had developed an admirable restraint from years of forced silence and deference. He merely regarded Hiashi-sama with veiled eyes and spoke with a forcefulness I had never heard from him in their presence. "One day."

Those two words burned themselves into my mind as surely as the cursed seal was burned into my forehead. I wanted very badly to ask what he'd meant, but it wasn't until we had returned home and were safe within the confines of our own four walls that I found my courage. The face father showed at home was much different than the one he showed to the main family. He seemed more tired and his eyes became vacant, his movements almost mechanical. He set me down gently on the sofa and ran a hand fleetingly over my forehead, pushing away a few strands of hair that had fallen out of place. Only his hand lingered there, pressed against the heat of that mark and it was then and only then that I saw him as truly vulnerable.

"I'm sorry, Neji." He sounded so sincerely heartbroken that for a moment I wondered if he had done something terrible I didn't know about. It took time to realize that he was apologizing for the seal; for the thing they had done to me.

I hated seeing my father look so weak, so I attempted what every child does when he finds his pillar of strength suddenly crumbling. I placed my hand over his, pulling it away from my forehead and clutching it tightly. I still didn't fully understand what had happened; understanding wouldn't come until I first saw the cursed seal used against father, so it was easy for me to be comforting. "It's all right, father. It doesn't really hurt anymore."

He attempted to smile, but father had never been good with smiles. We Hyuuga are trained practically from birth to be stoic to a fault and it is a difficult habit to break, even when we wish to. It was this curse that kept father from fooling me into believing things truly would be all right and I know my own reassuring smile faltered then. It even turned to worry when he stepped away, returning a moment later with bandages in hand, which he deftly used to wrap my forehead and hide the seal, even before I'd had my first chance to look at it.

"You must keep your forehead covered now, Neji." He had turned mechanical again, speaking as if the words had been rehearsed and memorized in advance. "It would not do for you to flaunt a mark of shame such as this. It is a secret of our clan, not to be shown to outsiders, not even to be spoken of outside of these walls." His hands dropped from my head, smoothing my hair just once in the hopes of somehow soothing me, though it did not help. His words had begun to have the entirely opposite effect.

Like all children, I asked the inevitable question. "Why?"

Father looked a bit exasperated, as he lifted me up again, carrying me through the far door that led to my bedroom. He set me on my feet beside the bed, one hand lingering atop my head in the sort of affectionate gesture I'd come to expect from him. "You should rest. I'll answer your questions tomorrow."

Looking back I realize he couldn't have possibly spoken more of it then. He, like so many members of the branch family, detested speaking of our fate, as it drew forth an anger so ferocious it felt as if your chest had burst into flame. I didn't understand that anger yet, but I could see it in him as easily as seeing through a pane of glass. So I allowed him to tuck me into bed and dim the lights. It was only when he lingered for a moment in the doorway that I stopped him. "Father?"

When he spoke, father's voice was soft and laden with sorrow. "Yes?"

"You told Hiashi-sama 'one day.' What did you mean?"

I could not see his face as it was cast in shadow, the light from the front room blinding me to all but his silhouette. However, it seemed as if there was an odd change in it, almost as if he were smiling, though I knew better than to think such a thing. "I meant that one day the strength of the branch family will surpass that of the main family. That your strength will surpass theirs and they will look to you for the true meaning of power."

Father pulled the door to before I could question further, leaving me to lay awake and wonder just how I, insignificant as I was, could become more powerful than even the strongest of the main family.

This was my first vivid memory of my father, the image that remained burned into my mind for the rest of my life. The calm, measured defiance, pushing firmly against the limits placed upon him. I remember very little else about him, though I can recollect from time to time images of him that I cannot place. I remember every inch of his face and not because I see it every day in Hiashi-sama. To my eyes, they were as different as night and day. I couldn't say in words exactly how I saw him. Only that there was something behind his eyes that I could never have understood at my age. A deep sadness that I never grasped until I grew older and was able to look back on those few memories of his face. He was always so calm and resolute and as a child I admired that most in him. Father was strong. Unbreakable. He was my world.

So I suppose, as cliché as it might sound, when he died my world was shattered.

Memory is a strange thing. I wanted so badly to forget the day when they carried him in, unmoving. Hiashi-sama was there as well, face cold as ice. He didn't even care. That angered me more than the rest of it. It overwhelmed me and in a moment of uncontrolled fury, I launched myself at him, fists pounding against his legs. An unthinkable act for a branch family member to even lay hands on the main family, let alone deal blows.

It's strange to recall now, especially since I didn't notice it nor did I remember for years, but Hiashi-sama never stopped me. He allowed every single blow, even seeming to wince when they struck, though I know my small fists could not have hurt him. Time stood still and in my grief I didn't notice the hands prying me away until my fists only struck air.

The man who'd lifted me was one of Hiashi-sama's cousins, I think, a low ranking member of the main family. He held no power within the clan structure other than his family status, so he took great delight in bullying the branch families. I remember many occasions in which he used his rank to humiliate us or taunt us, wanting us to strike back only so he could put us back in our place. That was the type of man he was. That was why, despite my tears and grief, the bastard shook me like a rag doll, berating me for daring to lay a hand on Hiashi-sama.

I remember now, it was Hiashi-sama who stopped him, berating him in that same tone; and I remember taking a moment's pleasure in it. I learned after that to take what pleasure I could in small victories, even to create such victories by pushing my limits as far as I dared. It has always been somehow ingrained in the branch family to refuse complete submission and sometimes I think that because of it, our pride can overwhelm that of even the main family. But at that time, I couldn't appreciate that pleasure nor take pride in it. Even when Hiashi-sama took me himself and carried me from the room.

He set me on the porch outside, hesitating a moment as if he wished to speak, but in the end he never said a word, only stepping inside once more, securing the door behind him. A weeping branch child had no business in clan politics. He no doubt had hoped I would wander off on my own rather than providing him with a constant reminder of his selfishness. I stayed on the porch, some stubborn part of me refusing to leave, as they obviously wanted me to. Already I was learning to rebel in what small ways I could, using my grief and my age as a shield against punishment. Still, I was only a child and those thoughts were only in the back of my mind as I sat alone weeping on the steps.

I don't remember being startled by the sudden pressure of a hand on my arm, but only being surprised that I hadn't seen anyone approach. Of course, she had come silently as she always did, even at three years old. Never have I known in all the years since such a quiet child as Hinata-sama, who now sat on the steps beside me, one tiny hand resting on my forearm.

Like any little boy, I didn't want to be seen crying and made a valiant attempt to wipe away the tears before she noticed, but my efforts were wasted. I discovered then, that the only way to hide tears was with something stronger… and as I looked at her, those innocent eyes, the gentle way she leaned forward to look at me… I hated her. For reasons I couldn't even fathom, I hated that delicate, timid little thing.

It was all her fault, after all.

Certainly, even at four years old, some part of me understood that Hinata-sama wasn't to blame. She could hardly have done anything to prevent herself from being taken, especially by such a strong shinobi… a village leader. But I told myself she should have been stronger. She was weak and unable to defend herself, even the slightest bit. She was pathetic. I didn't want her sympathy. "Go away."

She didn't budge. It infuriated me that she would stay when she was clearly not wanted. I shoved her then, taking courage from the lack of punishment earned for striking Hiashi-sama. The shove startled her, that much I could at least be happy with, but that pleasure was short-lived. Even physical violence didn't deter the little brat. She simply sat there next to me, staring at me with those wide eyes, wondering what she had done to earn such treatment.

That last ounce of frustration finally broke me and the tears came again, stronger this time, blurring my vision so that I didn't notice when she moved again. I was only aware of her presence again when a pair of chubby arms wrapped around my shoulders and held me cradled against her. "Don't cry, Neji-nii-san."

It was then that the last of my fury drained away. I remember feeling overwhelmed. Helpless. Only able to lean against that tiny body and cry, despite the burning hatred and anger that told me I shouldn't rely on her for this. That I couldn't trust her. But she only sat there, still and silent as a mouse, one tiny hand every now and again touching my hair, petting me in a soothing manner I could not fully comprehend.

Some time later the business concluded inside and I vaguely recall her being sent away by a few harsh words from Hiashi-sama. By that time I had exhausted myself, even so much that I allowed Hiashi-sama to bring me home and leave me in the care of an old aunt. One of my own kind.

Aunt Masako lived a few doors down from where I had lived with my father and she was the type of motherly old lady that always indulged all the children who came to her door. She fed us treats before supper, whispering that we shouldn't tell our parents. She delighted in telling stories, fairy tales that kept us entranced for hours. She was always the first to mend scraped knees and elbows, or bandage cuts and scrapes, tender as any mother and twice as gentle. Indeed, my cousins and I flocked to her like bees to honey.

Perhaps the children all came to her because she held high rank among us. She'd been long married to Hyuuga Haruki, the younger brother of the clan head, who for many years had served as the head of the branch families, acting as a liaison between branch and main. He was the only link between families, maintaining the order and the tense peace that held between us. It was a duty he'd planned to pass to my father, as such rank often fell to the closest kin to the clan leader. He'd hoped to retire from such a stressful position as his brother had intended to resign his leadership of the clan due to age and ill health. However, with father dead, the next logical heir to the position was me, as my blood was more strongly connected to the main family than even Haruki-sama, since father and Hiashi-sama had been twins.

So not only did Haruki-sama train me as a ninja, he trained me as a politician of sorts, as well. He taught me to read faces and body language, utilizing the sharp eyes of our clan as most others had neglected over the years. My uncle often told me that our clan had grown complacent in our position and we had grown over-confidant. We neglected all that our blood was capable of. And he saw in me what father had always seen; the potential to one day be stronger than even the main family. The potential to utilize the gifts of my blood in ways that even the main family could not imagine.

The key to taking back a little of the strength that was ever denied us.

I relished the opportunity. It was just the type of responsibility every boy wanted for himself, to change the fortune of his family and make them strong again. The chance to prove to everyone that he wasn't going to be held back by family politics. It would have been a waste of my Hyuuga blood to simply sit back and allow the main family to flaunt the strength it did not have when the real strength of our blood lay hidden away behind a cursed seal.

So I trained, fueled by my hatred of the main family, growing stronger faster than even Haruki-sama had anticipated. By the time I was eight years old and ready to enter the academy, I had nearly mastered the finer points of Juuken. Haruki-sama was so proud of me. It was one of the few times that I can recall that I was actually close to being completely happy. I anticipated the entry ceremony like any other child might anticipate a birthday, and mostly because I wanted Haruki-sama to see me accepted. I wanted him to be there so badly.

So it was devastating when Hiashi-sama demanded that he take me, himself. As the leader of the Hyuuga Clan, it was his duty to present its strongest child to the world. We'd not hidden my strength from him and so I soothed myself with the thought that he must be as furious at me as I was at him for making Hinata-sama look so weak.

The ceremony was an unbelievable disappointment. It was all merely a formality for Hiashi-sama and he seemed bored throughout. He didn't even seem to notice that from the very start I stood head and shoulders above the rest of my class. There wasn't another child there with any remarkable background; no children from any other major clans, none born from any talented parent. I was the only saving grace among a class full of pathetic misfits. Of course, this meant nothing to Hiashi-sama. He considered it a waste of his precious time. Once it was over, we returned home in silence where I was then unceremoniously dumped back into Haruki-sama's care.