When he bowed, it was under the weight of the irony in every contradiction. He felt it in the familiar press of formal robes on a battle-ready frame. The weight in a stifling room with open windows and steady breezes. The pressure of expectation with the premise of survival and civility.
"We have deliberated," said one of the elders, his voice breaking the stilted quiet.
"Though the information and...evidence you present is interesting and raises many questions, those questions must wait until our matter of business has been resolved."
Neji hadn't thought that her case would be so easily remedied. He wasn't surprised. His mind raced through scenarios and options as he prepared for the battle ahead.
Oppression was merely a familiar set of training weights, resting on his shoulders as he maintained his stillness. It was fastened to his legs to hinder him, bound to his heart to strengthen him.
To be elite, to be strong, to be shinobi. He was graceful, he was elite. He maintained his silence as the elder continued to speak.
"It is said in the Books of the Elders that there can be no appeal. It is our way, and there is no other. We will not break from this code, this understanding. There are not now, nor have there ever been exceptions, regardless of the interest surrounding the case. Do you truly wish disrespect this venerable council in such a paltry manner?"
Life was training. Every battle was a lesson. But how could he fight, when the weapons were words? How could he move, defend, protect, when the attacks were not attacks, but merely gestures, insignificant to his shinobi form.
How could he fight?
He was graceful. He was elite. He was Hyuuga, and it was his time.
Neji rose from his bow and began to defend her.