Chapter 9: Seppuku

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.

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Nara-san had dozed off, apparently tired out from dodging books and arguing with Neji about getting the doctor. He had been lying across his bed, his head propped on one hand, watching Neji. But Neji had waited him out, ignoring Nara-san's words – he had gotten good at that over the years, from tuning out the Hyuuga elders whenever they made speeches about the glories of the Main House – while watching Nara-san's eyes grow heavier and slowly close.

Now that he had made his decision, it was easier. He felt calm and sure, in control of his life for the first time in weeks. He was still in a lot of pain, but that part didn't matter so much anymore. He could wait, because now he knew what he was waiting for.

He was pretty sure Nara-san was truly asleep, as he was lightly snoring, but he had to be absolutely certain. To test it, he said, "It's getting dark." He didn't say Nara-san's name, because people could be called from sleep by hearing their name, when other words would pass by unnoticed.

Nara-san did not move, did not respond. As quietly as possible, Neji rose from the futon and crossed the room. This part was safe; even if Nara-san did awaken, he would just see Neji going into the bathroom.

Neji slid the bathroom door shut. He knelt on the tatami mat and said a quick prayer. The throwing star was still hidden beneath his obi, and he brought it out now, testing its sharp points against his finger.

He had never been a witness to a seppuku, and certainly never expected to be doing it himself. But unlike Nara-san, he had paid attention in school. He was familiar with the code of bushido. If a warrior had lost honor, he had lost everything. There was only one honorable way to go. Even if he had never seen it done,he knew what was required for the ritual.

He should be wearing white, instead of Nara-san's black kimono. And it should be done with a sword, not a throwing star. Well, there was nothing to be done about that; he would do the best he could. Ideally, too, he should have a kaishakunin, a second, with him. When a samurai committed seppuku, after he drove the sword into his belly, the kaishakunin was there to finish the job by cutting his throat. But he was pretty positive Nara-san wouldn't go for that. He would just have to do it alone.

It was traditional to write a poem. Neji had the first line in his head already. He had no parchment, pens or ink; Nara-san undoubtedly had some in his desk somewhere, but he had not had time to search the desk. It didn't matter; he would make do. Using the tip of the throwing star, he pricked his finger. A drop of blood appeared. He touched it to the wall and made the sweep of the first kanji character. The poem appeared whole in his mind. With his own blood, he methodically shaped the words. The calligraphy looked very rough, which bothered him, as it was the last thing he would leave on this earth. But it was much harder to write this way, without the proper instruments, and he had hurried in doing it, wanting to get everything done before Nara-san woke up.

It was time. He took a deep breath, said another prayer, and opened the kimono. He allowed it to slide off his arms, then carefully tucked the sleeves under his knees so that he would fall forward instead of backward. A warrior did not die falling backward, showing his face to the world.

He lifted the throwing star. The cut should be made from left to right, he knew. He touched the point to his skin, then pressed it in deeper. The first cut was almost painless; only the drops of blood welling up told him he had actually broken the skin. Then in the next minute it hit him, in an agonizing rush. He gasped, almost losing his grip on the star. Blood poured out, soaking Nara-san's kimono. Neji put a hand on the floor to steady himself. He had to keep going…it hurt, it hurt so much…they would never have him…all that blood…so much blood…

The last thing he was aware of before he passed into unconsciousness was the searing pain in his abdomen.

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The first thing Shikamaru was aware of as he awoke into full consciousness was a searing pain in his abdomen. Then a hopeless feeling of despair and isolation hit him. Blinking, shaken, he sat up. His left hand was doing that weird tingling thing again. He put a tentative hand to his belly, then, remembering, he looked over at the futon. It was empty. Alarmed, he glanced around the room and saw that the bathroom door was shut.

Going to the door, he called Hyuuga-san's name. He was risking the Hyuuga's wrath, he knew. But he could not shake off the disturbing feeling that something was wrong. Then he smelled it – the unmistakable scent of blood. He yanked the door open and saw what he had been most afraid of. Hyuuga-san lay slumped on the floor, his hair splayed behind him and everything around him soaked with blood.

Cursing wildly, Shikamaru knelt by his side and pressed his fingers to the Hyuuga's neck. At first there was nothing; then he felt it, faint and thready, a pulse. He rushed back into the bedroom and pulled open the door to the balcony. In the courtyard below, there were thankfully a few shinobi.

"I need a doctor, a medic, NOW!" he yelled down to them, before hurrying back to Hyuuga-san's side.

"Oh, crap, Hyuuga-san, what have you done?" The important thing, he knew, was to stop the bleeding. Grabbing some towels off the shelf, he wadded them up and pressed them to the wound on Hyuuga-san's stomach. Terrifyingly fast, red spread through them, layer after layer until they were drenched in Hyuuga-san's blood. He tossed them aside and grabbed some fresh ones, using them to apply pressure to the wound. Hyuuga-san stirred, giving a low groan of pain.

"Just hang on," Shikamaru told him. To himself he said a quick prayer. Please, don't let this happen. Hyuuga-san weakly slapped at Shikamaru's arm. Was Shikamaru hurting him, or was he trying to deliver a killing blow, as he had done with Kidoumaru? "Take it easy," Shikamaru said. Hyuuga-san subsided. He looked so pale; even more so than usual. Where was that damn doctor? The minutes ticked by, Shikamaru doggedly keeping his hands in place, applying pressure. With Hyuuga-san's shirt off like this he could see several other wounds, including an ugly gash on his back and, most horrifyingly, the deep purple-black bruising along his side and chest. They really did a number on you, didn't they, Hyuuga-san?

His eye was caught by some reddish marks on the wall next to them. A second later he realized it was kanji; three neat lines of a haiku written in blood.

I am a caged bird

wings clipped by destiny. Now

my spirit flies home.

Shikamaru felt his throat closing up. Dammit, Hyuuga-san, why couldn't you just wait it out? Then you could have gone home for real.

"Hyuuga-san, don't die here…just hang on. You'll see your home and your family again. You're such a fighter, don't let them beat you like this…"

Hyuuga-san's eyes fluttered open for a second, and he stopped resisting. Shikamaru wasn't sure if that was a good or bad sign. Nevertheless, he kept his hands in place, putting pressure on the wound, and he kept talking.

"Come on, you have to get through this…you have to show me why the Hyuugas are so much cooler than everyone else…maybe it's all that weird stuff you eat…fish for breakfast and all –"

"Hey! Shikamaru!" Izumo and Kotetsu's voices sounded from below. "Are you okay? We got a medic!"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he called back, "just a little accident. Just send the doctor up." He trusted both of them, but the last thing he needed was a bunch of people gawking in here.

His heart sank a little when he saw the medic. He knew the guy; he was not yet a doctor, just a junior medic who thought more highly of his own skills than anyone else did. Ino called him "Ratface," because he had a rodentlike appearance.

"You needed a doctor?" Ratface asked self-importantly. Then his jaw dropped as he saw the scene in the bathroom. "What – ah – what happened?"

"We had the Pet Ceremony this morning, and –"

"The Pet Ceremony?" Ratface exclaimed exaggeratedly. Shikamaru looked at him in annoyance. He was pretty sure Ratface didn't care that much, and was just acting like that because he thought it was expected.

"Anyway, now he's bleeding," Shikamaru said pointedly. "A lot."

"You said he had an accident of some kind?" Ratface moved closer, setting his bag down officiously on the floor. Shikamaru carefully lifted his hands from the wound, removing the bloody towels. A gush of fresh blood welled up.

"Hmm…" Ratface said, peering at the wound. "So he accidentally stabbed himself in the stomach? Beat himself up, too?" He shrugged, opening his bag. "Well, he's your Pet, I suppose you can do as you like."

"I didn't do this!" Shikamaru said angrily. "This was Orochimaru's doing – or Kidoumaru."

"And he tried to off himself using a throwing star? That's pretty silly."

Shikamaru had a strong impulse to stuff the throwing star up Ratface's pointy nose. He could think of many words to describe what Hyuuga-san had done, but silly was not one of them.

Ratface produced a bottle of strong antiseptic. "Gotta clean this wound first." It was effective, Shikamaru knew, but it would also sting like hell. He put out a cautioning hand, but not in time; Ratface was already pouring it onto the wound. Hyuuga-san hissed in pain, his eyes flying open, and kicked out, hard, catching Ratface in the knee. He went down, the bottle of antiseptic splashing over the tatami mat.

"Who are you?" Hyuuga-san demanded hoarsely. "Get away from me!"

Ratface got to his feet, glaring at Hyuuga-san and muttering something under his breath. "You'd better hold him still. I need to sew that up."

"Shouldn't you, y'know – numb it first?"

"It's not really necessary," Ratface said superciliously. "They don't feel pain the way we do."

Shikamaru was itching to ask, How the hell did you get through medic training? But it wasn't a good idea to insult someone when you needed their help, however big an idiot they might be.

"Even animals feel pain," he said instead. "And obviously he does, or he wouldn't have kicked you."

"All right," Ratface said, his tone turning surly. "But you have to restrain him."

Shikamaru reached for Hyuuga-san's arms. "Take it easy, Hyuuga-san," he said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. "He's just going to –"

But even in his weakened state, Hyuuga-san proved surprisingly fierce, pulling his arm from Shikamaru's grasp and kicking out at the medic again.

Ratface backed up against the doorway, holding out the syringe. "He won't let me touch him; maybe you should do it."

"I can try," Shikamaru said, "but he doesn't usually let me touch him, either."

"Not much of a Pet, is he?"

"Just give me that," Shikamaru snapped.

"What on earth is going on?"

Shikamaru looked up with mingled relief and dread to see the horrified faces of his parents, standing in the doorway of his room.

Everyone began talking at once.

"Kotetsu said you called for a doctor –"

"Is he dead?"

"I'm doing the best I can, but really, you can't expect, with a White-Eyes –"

Shikamaru raised his voice to be heard over the commotion. "Mom. Dad. I need your help."

"I'll get Shizune," his father said immediately. "We just parted; she can't be far away." To Ratface he added, "You can go. And keep your mouth shut."

Ratface looked as though he wanted to say something more, but under the withering gaze of all three Naras, decided better of it and left, looking miffed. Shikaku followed, pushing past him to hurry down the stairs in pursuit of Shizune. Hyuuga-san gave a tiny grunt of pain, reaching toward the still-bleeding wound on his stomach. Shikamaru grabbed his hand.

His mother stared at the bloody mess for a moment. "He has cursed this house," she muttered, before turning and hurrying out of the room.

Shikamaru stared after her, stunned. Thanks, Mom, he thought bitterly. He knew she did not like the White-Eyes, or the fact that he had taken a Pet, but he had not thought she would just walk away from a possibly dying person like that.

His hands were wet with Hyuuga-san's blood, and he wiped them on his pants, then went back to trying to both keep pressure on the wound and stop Hyuuga-san from grabbing at it. Hyuuga-san seemed weaker than before, and barely conscious. His skin was dead white and felt hot to the touch.

Shikamaru said another silent prayer. Hang on Hyuuga-san, a real doctor is coming.

"Here," his mother's voice sounded behind him. A second later she was kneeling beside him, a jar of some kind of grayish powder in her hand. "This will stop the bleeding." Shikamaru moved his hands away, and she sprinkled a liberal handful over the wound. "Give it a minute or two to work."

Shikamaru said a mental apology to his mother for doubting her. Yoshino pulled a fresh towel from the shelf and ran some water over it, then began to wash some of the blood off, being careful not to touch the wound itself. Hyuuga-san gave a tiny moan and tried weakly to push her hand away. It looked like he was struggling to sit up.

"Lay still!" Yoshino ordered. "Stop moving around – what is his name, Shikamaru?"

"I – I don't really know," Shikamaru admitted.

His mother shot him a disbelieving look. "You have made a Pet of this boy and you don't know his name?"

"I just call him Hyuuga-san. Or Shiruki."

"Shiruki? Like the cat?"

Shikamaru put both hands on Hyuuga-san's shoulders, trying to gently hold him still.

"Shikamaru, this is a human being, not an animal. You can't simply bring him home and adopt him. You can't call him by whatever name you wish. He has a name. And a home. And – "

"I get it, Mom! I wasn't trying to actually make him a Pet; I just wanted to save his life. I didn't know he would do –" he felt his voice cracking on the words "– this."

"He has a lot of other injuries, too," his mother said, looking at Hyuuga-san critically. "Those should have been looked at."

Shikamaru looked at the dark bruising on Hyuuga-san's side, feeling a little sick. "He refused to see a doctor or let anyone treat him."

Yoshino sighed. "Well, North Country people are strange like that. Who knows what passes for medicine up there. Maybe he wanted a witch doctor or something."

"Do you think…he'll make it?"

His mother paused in her washing for a moment. "We'll have to ask Shizune that. She's the doctor." She looked up at Shikamaru, as if realizing something. "You really care for him, hm?"

Care for him? Shikamaru thought bemusedly. Well, of course, in the sense that he had promised to – he provided care, and of course he cared whether Hyuuga-san lived or died. He didn't know in what sense his mother had meant it, and he was not going to ask. He watched her quietly cleaning off the blood. Her opinion of him was probably about the lowest it had ever been, but he was comforted by her presence.

He looked at the poem on the wall, repeating it to himself, committing it to memory. Soon enough it would be cleaned off, and he did not want it to be lost forever.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and then his father and Shizune burst into the room.

"Shizune, so sorry to disturb you," Yoshino said. "I know you must be tired from –"

Shizune waved it off. "No trouble; I'm not tired. Shikaku told me what happened." She knelt by Hyuuga-san, looking him over. "So he did this to himself?" Shikamaru nodded. "And these older wounds are from Orochimaru's clan, I suppose." She pressed her fingertips to Hyuuga-san's wrist to take his pulse and the palm of her other hand to his forehead, shaking her head sorrowfully. "So young….Do you know why…?"

Over Shizune's shoulder, Yoshino shot Shikamaru a look, anxious and alarmed, as if she thought he might do the same thing.

"I don't really know," Shikamaru said. "We had the Pet Ceremony this morning, and –"

"The Pet Ceremony!" Shizune exclaimed. "Oh goodness…I am so sorry, I didn't realize it was today. Shikaku and Yoshino, I would have released you from the mission!"

Shikamaru shot a look at his parents. They were both looking down, not meeting his eyes.

"He got the Pet Mark," he went on, "then it looked like it was hurting him a lot...he didn't look good, and…and then he did this."

"His pulse is weak," Shizune said, "and his temperature is elevated. It could be a bad reaction to the Pet Mark. That happens sometimes, especially with a…Pet who isn't willing. But he was willing, wasn't he?"

Shikamaru shrugged. "He preferred it to being sent back to Orochimaru…at least that's what I thought."

Shizune was inspecting the wound. "You did a good job of stopping the bleeding, Yoshino, that's the most important thing. I'll stitch him up, and then see what I can do for these other injuries."

"Watch out," Shikamaru warned, "he's combative."

Shizune pulled a bottle from her bag and poured a few drops of liquid onto a gauze pad. She handed it to Shikamaru. "This should put him out."

Shikamaru pressed it over Hyuuga-san's mouth and nose, and immediately realized that was a mistake, as Hyuuga-san began struggling, twisting his head away and grabbing at Shikamaru's hand. He lifted the pad up so it was not touching Hyuuga-san, cupping his hand just above Hyuuga-san's mouth.

"Hyuuga-san, relax, it's Nara-san. We're here to help you."

Amazingly, Hyuuga-san quieted, reassured by a familiar voice – or perhaps just succumbing to the anesthesia. Shizune nodded approvingly, then began blotting the wound with something else. "This will kill the pain and keep it from getting infected."

Shikamaru watched as she began putting in the stitches. He was not squeamish. As she got to the deepest part of the wound, Hyuuga-san gave a grunt of pain, reaching dazedly for the needle. Shikamaru swiftly seized his hand. "Take it easy, Hyuuga-san. She's almost done."

Hyuuga-san seemed to calm down a little, not struggling or pulling his hand from Shikamaru's. It felt odd to be holding his hand, but Shikamaru needed to make sure he wouldn't try to harm Shizune or himself.

"He must really trust you," Shizune observed.

Shikamaru snorted inwardly at this statement. Oh yes, Hyuuga-san trusted him all right –he just wouldn't eat anything Shikamaru offered, or close his eyes in Shikamaru's presence. Even his current relatively docile state was only because he was semi-conscious and sedated. If he were awake, he would have kicked Shikamaru across the room for daring to come within three feet of him.

Shizune was a quick, efficient worker, and the stitching was over in a few minutes. By then Hyuuga-san was completely under, and did not stir while she bandaged the wound, cleaned and treated the lesser wounds on his back and leg, and, with Shikamaru's help, taped up his cracked ribs.

"I'm going to give him something to bring down the fever and help him sleep," Shizune said, readying a syringe. Shikamaru was thankful Hyuuga-san was still out. Shizune gave him the injection, then turned to Shikamaru. "I'll give you some medicine for when this wears off. Yoshino, what mixture do you think?"

While his mother and Shizune went downstairs to prepare the medicine, his father helped Shikamaru move Hyuuga-san over to the futon. Hyuuga-san was limp and unresisting, his skin hot to the touch. He still looked almost as white as the sheets on the futon. He had lost so much blood; could he recover from that?

Shikaku got out a laundry bag, and they cleaned up the bathroom, throwing the tatami mats and bloody towels into the bag in awkward silence. There was so much to say, so much hanging in the air between them. But neither one of them seemed to know where to begin. Shikamaru went and sat at his desk and found a pen.

Shikaku cleared his throat. "What are you doing?"

"Writing down his poem."

Shizune came back into the room, a bottle of medicine in her hand. "Give him some of this in about four hours. Then he should take it twice a day for the next week."

Yeah, fat chance of that, Shikamaru thought. He would just have to hope that the one injection would do the trick.

"And just make sure he drinks plenty of water and gets lots of rest. I'll come by again to check up on him tomorrow."

His parents thanked Shizune profusely. Shikamaru had the impression they were somewhat embarrassed by the whole thing.

"I'll walk you out," he offered. There was one more thing he wanted to ask her about, but he preferred not to do it in front of his parents.

"Shizune, this might sound strange, but...before, when Hyuuga-san was feeling ill, the Mark on my hand felt strange and then, for a minute, I felt really ill too. It happened twice. And then, when he…cut himself…my hand was tingling again and I felt a pain in my stomach too, in the same place. Just for a minute and then it was gone."

Shizune stopped by the door, turning to face him. "Do you mean you are feeling what he is feeling?"

"I…guess so…"

Shizune looked startled and impressed. "I have heard of that. It's very rare. It happens when two people care very deeply for each other…when they are…I guess you would call it soulmates."

Only politeness kept Shikamaru from rolling his eyes at that. He had been looking for a scientific explanation, not some romantic claptrap. Soulmates, my ass. He barely knew Hyuuga-san, and what he did know he didn't particularly like. And the feeling was definitely mutual.

She should have been here earlier, when he was cursing me and flinging books at my head.

He thanked Shizune again for coming, and went back upstairs. His parents had retired to their room, leaving him with the unconscious Hyuuga. Feeling unaccountably sad, he sat cross-legged on his bed. He would not make the mistake of falling asleep again. Hyuuga-san looked like he might be shivering, so he got a blanket and covered him with it.

The hours passed, Shikamaru watching helplessly as Hyuuga-san tossed and writhed on the bed, mumbling hoarsely and unintelligibly. The Hyuuga clawed at the sheets and at the bandages, still so pale except for the flush of fever on his cheeks. He did not cry out, but the muffled sounds of pain he made were somehow even harder to hear.

The night had turned to darkest black. Inside, Shikamaru lit a single small lamp. Hyuuga-san was getting worse; Shikamaru could see it. He had no choice. He would have to trick Hyuuga-san into taking some of the medicine. Exactly what he suspected me of doing, he thought, grimly ironic.

From his parents' room as he passed by, he could hear raised voices; they were arguing again.

In the kitchen, he prepared a bowl of plain miso soup and tipped a spoonful of medicine into it. Returning to his room, he saw that Hyuuga-san had tossed the blanket off and was shivering. He put an arm around the Hyuuga's shoulders, helping him to sit up. Hyuuga-san's skin burned him; it was almost too hot to touch. Hyuuga-san leaned weakly against him, all the fight seemingly gone out of him. Still, Shikamaru would not let his guard down; weak as a kitten or not, Hyuuga-san was unpredictable and dangerous.

His parents' argument had escalated to a full-blown fight. Next to him he felt Hyuuga-san tense at the sound, turning his head away as if trying to escape. Shikamaru could sympathize with that. He'd like to escape this crap as well.

Loud footsteps sounded in the hall outside – probably his father leaving – followed by his mother's voice shrieking curses at Shikaku. His father cursed back at her. Something crashed to the floor with a loud bang.

Hyuuga-san gave a choked cry and pressed his face against Shikamaru's chest, his fingers tightening convulsively in Shikamaru's shirt. Shikamaru wrapped an arm around him, feeling intensely irritated. Did they really have to do this all the time? Even now, when someone in the house was so ill? Hyuuga-san's breathing came in rapid, ragged gasps. Awkwardly, Shikamaru stroked his hair, trying to calm him down.

To his surprise, at his touch Hyuuga-san stilled, his fingers unclenching slightly from Shikamaru's shirt. Shikamaru did it a few more times, running his hand gently over Hyuuga-san's hair. It felt different from his own thick hair, much finer and softer. He brought the bowl of soup to Hyuuga-san's lips, coaxing him to take a few sips, and, to his great relief, Hyuuga-san did. Little by little, speaking in the low soothing voice he used with nervous deer and horses, Shikamaru managed to get almost half the bowl of soup into Hyuuga-san.

It felt very weird to be holding another man, touching his hair like this – especially someone who not that long ago had been threatening to kill him – but Shikamaru could not dwell on it. The situation was too critical. He was a pragmatist; he would do whatever was necessary. In battle, he was not above running away or appearing weak to throw his opponent off. If this was the only way to get Hyuuga-san to take his medicine, he would do it.

Hyuuga-san appeared to have dozed off after a while, so Shikamaru tried to ease him down onto the futon. The movement jostled Hyuuga-san, and he gave a hoarse grunt of pain, once again grabbing onto Shikamaru's shirt.

"Easy, easy, okay, I'm not going anywhere," Shikamaru said, shifting a little to get more comfortable. It looked like it was going to be a long night. Remembering how Hyuuga-san had calmed down before, he resumed stroking his hair. Just as before, it seemed to work.

Suddenly Hyuuga-san's eyes opened, and he stared up at Shikamaru, his wild white eyes searching Shikamaru's face in unfocused alarm. Shikamaru froze, a hand still in the Hyuuga's hair. He had promised never to touch Hyuuga-san, and here he was, petting him. He decided to try to make light of it.

"Hey, Shiruki, your hair was getting in the soup."

Hyuuga-san frowned in a confused way. "Neji," he whispered.

"What's that?"

"My name…is Neji."

"Neji." Shikamaru tried it out. "Well, okay, Neji, you just rest. I'm going to take care of you."

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A.N.: Thanks for reading, everyone! Please take a moment to review! And thanks to all my wonderful reviewers so far!

Infekcis, no worries, there will be plenty more on Neji's feelings about what happened with Kidoumaru and how it affects his feelings for Shikamaru.