"Gai-sensei once told me that we should be like cherry blossoms as shinobi."
Itachi watched as Neji pulled a single blossom off a nearby branch and cupped it in his hands. It stirred a little in the wind.
"We are to be unmoving, but flexible. Appear delicate, but have inner strength. Be able to be blown in all directions but still land on our feet. An impressive list, don't you think? No wonder so many of us go mad." The Hyuuga pursed his lips and blew the blossom out of his palm. They watched as it settled among others on the ground. More were caught in Neji's hair, stark against the rich brown.
"Of course, it's Gai-sensei, so who knows if he meant any of it or not?"
Neji's hand found his on the blanket, and he felt petals fall to earth.
"Perhaps being a shinobi is meant to put us in early graves."
Itachi looked over sharply. "Shinobi are in love with death. It is our currency."
Neji returned his look, for once the more calm and level of the two. "Death is beautiful."
Itachi never decided if Neji had been talking about him.