Quasi-AU/wartime. Oneshot.
Crossing Battle Lines
Lee stumbles into the medical tent, blood dripping from the jagged gash slicing through one bushy eyebrow to rend his forehead.
Tenten jumps up from her seat on the cot, yanking out the IV (again), and rushes to his side in just enough time for him to press a warm bundle from under his cloak into her arms. She is simultaneously snaking one arm around him and holding the other close to her body, just now realizing that there is warm breath fanning against her throat and tiny arms winding about her neck. She almost shoves the bundle away – in guerilla warfare there are no compunctions about how to or not to use children - but Lee catches her eyes knowingly. He knows what she is thinking, and is quick to reassure her.
"Pulled her from the orphanage wreckage," Lee says on broken breaths, holding Tenten's gaze until her pupils contract again, and the old ghosts and monsters are tucked away. Sakura comes running over, pushing past the medic that is still starring dumbly at Tenten, clearly unsure about the procedure for demanding that a superior officer return to have their treatment completed.
"Don't just stand there," Sakura snaps at him. "Can't you see this soldier is in need of help?" In a nanosecond, the other man is supporting Lee's weight and Sakura is wiping away the blood from his face, trying to get a better sense of the severity of his injury.
"What happened, Soldier," she asks, her tone professional but not unkind. They all knew that this was a necessity of war. Compartmentalize. Stay on task. Don't look back.
"Booby-trapped," he says, his normally exuberant manner toned to an assured stillness. "Exploding tags and shrapnel. Gai-sensei and I were fast enough to get the three remaining children out."
Sakura works quickly, and two other medics come to assist her.
A kindly nurse guides Tenten back to her cot, and takes the child from her. "I'll make sure there are no injuries," she assures the kunoichi, whose eyes are fixed on her friend. "Sit and finish your treatment."
She gives a curt nod of acknowledgement, not even registering when they re-insert the IV.
Eventually, she is finished, Lee is patched and stabilized, the child is deemed as uninjured, and is back in Tenten's arms.
Lee looks wearily over to Tenten.
"Thanks for grabbing her," he nods to the bundle of chubby limbs and large eyes in her arms. "I'll take her over as soon as I'm cleared."
"You have deep internal injuries, and significant blood loss," Sakura says pointedly to Lee. "You are relieved of all duties until further notice, Soldier."
Lee is on the brink of a heartfelt objection, but Tenten stills him with a hand to his sleeve. "I'll take care of her, Lee," she says quietly, "And I'll check in on the others."
Lee's face melts into a curious hybrid of relief and gratitude and some message encrypted in their own private cypher learned in the walls of an institutional childhood, and perfected as whispers between narrow bunks when they should have been sleeping.
"Thanks, Tenten." He allows Sakura and the other medic to prop him up on the raised back of the cot. She gives him a nod, and leaves while Sakura's glowing chakra-infused palm begins mending his wounds.
He finds her in an abandoned apartment in the secured area. He hears her before he sees her, confused by her tone, although it is undoubtedly her voice. He instinctively activates his Byakugan, only to immediately turn it off, putting fingertips to his temples. He strained his Byakugan through overuse after being exposed to that flash-bomb, and now he has to wait a day or so to use it. It makes him feel unnerved – he is far too accustomed to being able to see everything on command to be comfortable in this state.
Just in case, he palms a kunai and several weapons, and moves quietly toward her voice.
He doesn't know what he had expected to see, but it certainly wasn't Tenten chatting amicably with a small child in a highchair.
He lets his presence be sensed, and she glances up at him. "How're the eyes?" she asks without preamble.
"On forced rest," he grunts. "I saw Lee. He sent me to see if you needed backup." His eyes roved over the child. "He didn't say why."
"No need," she turns to the quiet and pleasant child in the highchair with a small smile that he almost remembers. "Chōji got food together for her, and she is processing well. He did a quick check; doesn't look like she has any food allergies or anything to worry about. Maybe some minor malnutrition, but he gave her some supplements."
Neji frowns. "How did he make her take them?"
"He has dissolvable ones for kids. I was going to take her to see the other kids and check in on them."
"If you are going to do that, you'd better hurry," Neji flicks a glance to the clock on the wall. "They are in a different sector and lockdown is in twenty minutes. You have just enough time to get her to the others."
"She's not going to the others," Tenten says quietly, handing the child the lidded cup that slid too far back on the tray of the highchair. "She is staying here."
"Here?" Neji asks incredulously. "Why here?"
He knows should probablydefinitely stop when he sees that particular set to her jaw, but he is in no mood to be placatory or careful. "Surely there is somewhere better suited and someone better qualified," he continued.
"Probably," she returns with just enough acid to serve as a warning, "but one: I promised Lee, two: she is the first half of my protection assignment for the next 48 hours, hence Kakashi assigning me to this small, functional apartment in the most stable building in the most secured location of the god damned village."
"First half? Where is the second assignment?"
Tenten narrows her eyes.
"I'm looking at him."
Neji glowers at her, and she breaks the staring contest, but only when the small child makes some noises.
"You were right about one thing," She says, stuffing a scroll into her belt. "I have to hurry. Does your genius extend to the feeding of and basic care of a toddler? I'll be gone no more than twenty minutes, tops."
"If you can do it, what makes you think I can't," Neji snorts.
Tenten's lips twist into a hard smirk "We'll see how your genius stacks up against my experience. Food's on the table, Hyūga."
She strides past him, and he catches her arm. They are shoulder to shoulder, and she takes a half of a step backward to look up into his tell-nothing features and his morning-mist eyes.
"We haven't finished disarming all of the traps yet," his voice is low and calm. "There is still a viable threat between the secured sectors."
"Understood."
She is not looking at him, but he is watching her closely. The words that finally bring her eyes to his tumble from his mouth without his consent.
"Make sure you come back," he says quietly. "That's an order."
The she stares across the chasm between them. It is incalculably vast and filled with volatile energies and atomized gunpowder, and Tenten knows from experience that her words are all too sharp, too heavy, or too laden with explosives to cross.
He accepts her nod of tactical retreat, and she slips out of the door and into the early twilight of yet another year-long day.
He doesn't have time to stare into the space of half-forgotten promises. He winces when he reflexively tries to watch after her with his Byakugan. Nothing. Nothing but a dull ache behind his eyes.
He rakes a hand down his face before turning back to the quiet, serious child that is watching him carefully.
She seems far too small for such a look – as if the weight of it alone could keep the world at tiny-arms-length.
"I won't hurt you," he grumbles, looking at the food that has been carefully laid out by Tenten. Looks simple enough. Some kind of dry cereal, a few bowls of things of various consistencies, some cut up fruit. He peers at the child, but he can't tell what teeth she does or doesn't have. He scoops up the first bowl and picks up where Tenten left off.
Neji is from a large clan. He is not ignorant of what to do with children. Out of practice, perhaps, but not ignorant. He holds the spoon out to her and she presses her little lips together and turns her head.
"It's not so bad," he says gruffly. "I've never known an Akimkichi to make something inedible." Several more attempts met with the same result, so Neji puts down one bowl and reaches for another. She stretches hands out for the first bowl. He brings it back and offers it to her. She turns her head away. He puts the spoon down and holds the bridge of his nose between his fingers and counts to ten.
When he opens his eyes, she is carefully using the spoon to (sloppily) feed herself.
"Independent, are we?" he arches an eyebrow at the rapidly if not efficiently disappearing food. He shrugs and grabs the bowls of fruit and crackers. She immediately puts the fork down and reaches greedily for the fruit, shoving it into her mouth.
"Slow down," Neji chides "I shall not take it from you."
She does not slow down. Fistfuls of fruit are smashed into her mouth, the next bite always gripped in her tiny hands and at the ready.
"At least use your fork," he scoffs, spearing a strawberry with said utensil and handing it to her. She takes the fork, studies it, pries the fruit off, and eats the berry before tossing the fork to the side. Neji catches it and puts it back on the tray. "Nice try," he smirks. He brings the bowl of what looks to be yogurt into the mix. He might not be able to use his Byakugan, but his eyesight is as good as ever. Every spoon she drops, every fork she tosses, every round 'o' of cereal – he catches and retrieves.
She pounds happy toddler palms on the tray of food and begins to laugh, swinging her legs and then curling her knees up almost under the tray.
Neji eyes his mini-nemesis smugly. She has eaten more than she has attempted to throw, and so far, no damage.
She watches him carefully, gripping the cup of milk in both hands.
With no warning, she chucks her cup of milk directly at him, and he intercepts its wobbly trajectory, needing two hands to keep it from slipping through his fingers.
His victory is fleeting, though.
She has managed to get both legs up under the tray of the highchair, and kicks forward, sending the tray, food, utensils, and a cup of water flying at him. He acts instinctively, the only way he can think to quickly and completely redirect the barrage away from both himself and the toddler.
"Hakkeshō Kaiten!"
The little girl's eyes grow wide as he becomes a blur of spinning blue chakra, and the tray, bowls, forks, milk, and water go flying off to the side.
"What the-?!"
The resulting clatter drowns out the profanity that no doubt followed.
Neji halts his rotation, a kunai in each hand, and stands protectively in front of the little girl.
He sees a tactical error in deciding to use his Eight Trigrams Palms Heavenly Rotation sans Byakugan.
He was unable to account for a casualty.
Tenten stares back at him, crouched and battle ready, also with a kunai in each hand. She deflected the tray (kicked and now slammed against the side wall, utensils embedded in the wall and floor,) but her personal arsenal didn't have a weapon suitable for a Kaiten pureed barrage of food, and she is now splattered from head to toe with remnants of the little girl's meal.
They stare at each other a moment longer in their respective battle-ready stances.
They don't move until the child bursts out laughing and claps wildly, uttering the first word they have heard from her. "Again!"
The tension between them sublimates into nothing, and Neji turns to check the child while Tenten assesses her own damage.
"Hyūga," Tenten swipes a glob of what probably used to be banana out of her eyes. "What. The. Actual. Fu-"
"Now, now," Genma interrupts, rounding the corner from where he had sensibly taken cover. "Not in front of the baby, Tenten."
Tenten clamps her mouth shut (after muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'bastard,') and glares at Genma as he picks his way across the carnage to the toddler who is still strapped into the highchair.
"Sorry about them," he jerks his head to a now glowering Neji and Tenten. "They have no manners." Genma nonchalantly picks up the wet towel Tenten set to the side earlier, and with a gentleness with which no one would have ever have thought to credit to him, cleans off the child's face and hands. He unbuckles her from the highchair and scoops her up, much to the child's apparent delight.
Genma transfers his senbon from his mouth to his pocket, and the little girl instantly throws her little arms around his neck. He grins smugly down at her before looking up innocently at Tenten's glare and Neji's dubious expression.
"What?" he answers their obvious question. "Kids love me. Didn't you know that?"
When neither of them reply, he redirects his attention to the orphan.
"C'mon," he says to the little one. "Good thing I intercepted Tenten. Turns out we found your brother and sister. They were given refuge at the orphanage," he explains to the two soldiers. "We might have even freed their parents from that work camp last month. I'm taking this little one to her family. In the mean time," he looks around at the food-splattered walls, "you might want to clean up."
This time, they both glare at him.
He ignores them both as he fishes a scroll out from his belt and hands it to Tenten. "Supplies. Food. Bedding. Clothes. Toiletries. We are sealing this area tonight. Neji, you rest that Byakugan of yours. Tenten, you are technically on guard duty, but see if you can actually get over that chakra exhaustion Sakura has been hounding you about for a month."
He picks his way to the door. "Wave bye-bye," he encourages the toddler, and she replies enthusiastically. "Say, 'See you in two days!'" Genma sing-songs.
Tenten blinks. "Wait, what? Two days?! Genma, are you out of your everloving-"
The door clicks shut behind him, and neither of them needs to test the lock to know he has sealed it shut. Any attempt to leave the apartment will result in a camp-wide alert, and triggering it unnecessarily can get a soldier court-martialed.
Tenten stands somewhere between shock and indignation, but all she can do is repeat, "Two days?" She turns before looking up at him. "Are your eyes that bad?" she asks, more concerned than caustic.
"Is your chakra exhaustion?" Neji retorts.
She doesn't reply.
Instead, Tenten looks around the food splattered area. "I don't know whether to clean me or the apartment first," she mutters. "Not that I should have to clean any of this mess. I wasn't expecting an ambush unison raid from a toddler and my-" she faltered. "Well, anyway," she says abruptly and crosses to the kitchen. "I can at least wipe off."
Neji watches her briskly wipe then wash her face with concise, perfunctory movements. She makes a valiant attempt to get the bulk of the food off of her clothing with a wet rag, before – literally – throwing in the towel. The thunk of wet terrycloth against the sink punctuates the angry zwip of Tenten unzipping her flak vest. She shrugs out of it and places it on the counter.
"This is ridiculous," she scoffs. "I am tired, cold, and covered in pureed food, because some genius decided to combat a toddler with his clan's secret ultimate defense technique." She shakes her head. "I'm getting a shower. You," she narrows her eyes at Neji and tosses him a roll of paper towels. "You. Start cleaning."
He catches it effortlessly, watching her push away the persistent fatigue. "You came back."
Tenten doesn't stop or look up as she sorts through her scrolls for supplies. "Of course I did," she snorts. "I am assigned to be here."
"That isn't what I meant," he says softly.
The voice is right behind her, and it is warmer – gentler than she remembers.
She half looks over her shoulder, and once again, sees that yawning chasm stretch between them, filled with memories and words unsaid. She drops her gaze to her scroll and wraps herself in the threadbare tatters of her pride to keep him from seeing where the hurt still lingers.
"I'm tired, Hyūga," she sighs, turning around slowly, and he can't miss the circles under her eyes. "I have had a crazy three months of non-stop missions in a year of particularly insane missions for this war, and have essentially reclassified sleep as a luxury." She looks him over. "I'm not back," she shakes her head. "And neither are you. We're just along for the ride."
"You don't believe that," he frowns. "You never did."
"I suppose I didn't," she sighs. "But you did. And that is what mattered." Her eyes wandered over him before she gave her head a small shake. "Let it go, Neji. It-"
She can't finish because his fingers are pressed to her mouth.
His eyes hold something that she is afraid to recognize and she is stunned into a wary silence as he slides his fingertips over the curve of her cheek to cup her jaw, trailing his thumb over her lips.
Tenten's eyes widen, and she feels her pulse leap to clamor in her ears. She wills herself to be still.
"I thought you had forgotten," he traces the outline of her lips with his thumb, and she has to curb her nervous habit of licking them.
"Forgotten what?" she asks, her tone breathier than she'd like it to be.
He dips his head to her, and their noses are almost touching. "My name," his breath is a whisper on her damp cheek. "It has been years since I have heard it from you."
"Since you became Captain," she allows.
"No," he breathes. "Longer," but she knows exactly when she stopped using his name. She stopped that night on the dawn of war, before the teams were about to be divided and reassigned. The night before she found out she would leave at the next dawn with Lee for a long-term assignment in this sector.
They hadn't been in the same unit in almost three years. Their paths crossed, but never again as they had that night. The last two months saw them both assigned to this sector, but had seen one another only rarely.
He has missed his name on her lips. All those times he worried for her – all those times he thought of what they had almost started – those phantasms melt away with that one, simple word. A man done with regrets, he brushes his lips against hers. She tastes of strawberries and bananas, and he tells himself that this time he'll do everything in his power to stay with her. Something warm and tentative roils in his blood. He will call it anticipation, because he is not ready to admit it is hope.
But as her arms wrap around his neck, he will freely admit that it is something more and better and truer than anything he has felt before. He has two days to show her everything he hasn't been able to say, and he isn't going to waste a second.
Second response to AG's prompt for perfect Neji vs. toddler. Not taking this story anywhere.