Author's Notes: Another one-shot. NejiTen.
Ivory
(Dedicated to Jing)
The cherry blossoms were falling that day.
They fluttered in through the open windows, dancing past the transparently thin curtains to land delicately on the floor, filling the air with their fragrance. Sitting on her knees nearby, Tenten brushed the pale petals out of her hair, the movement of her hand awkward and graceless. She did not usually wear her hair down and the dark waves that swayed below her shoulders somehow seemed to leave her vulnerable despite their heaviness. The decorative kimono she wore didn't help either, the smooth fabric sliding across her skin like silk and startling her every time she raised her arms.
There was a formal festival that evening and in her mind's eye, Tenten could already see the strings of paper lanterns, the glow of summer fireflies, the talking, the laughing. She had promised a dance to Lee, despite his leg, and had told him he could lean on her all he wanted as long as he didn't step on her kimono. Neji, of course, acted as if the whole thing was a bother but when he had asked her to cut his hair for him, she knew he was a looking forward to it just a little bit.
She never really cut it, of course. Just trimmed the ends. She was the only one he ever allowed to touch his hair and she was never quite sure if it was because of her prowess with any kind of sharp object, or if, perhaps, she was the one he trusted most of all.
In any case, she wasn't about to give up a chance to run an ivory-toothed comb through his long hair, feeling the surprisingly soft strands slip through her fingers as she was doing now. Neji sat straight-backed in a chair in front of her facing the window, never once glancing in her direction, never moving, his silver-white eyes fixed on something outside.
She hummed to herself sometimes, unconsciously, singing to the strokes of her comb. She stopped through when she took out the scissors. He always thought she wasn't paying attention if she hummed when she used them.
She never missed a single hair, something she boasted about when they were alone. He would only smirk and say nothing, but she knew.
After all, he had never asked anyone else.
Sitting there in his festival regalia, looking away from her, always away, she could watch him instead and run her fingers through his hair under the pretense of detangling it. She loved those moments she had with him, full of cherry blossoms, silky, and ivory.
He never seemed to notice.
Until he his hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, making her release a lock of his hair and pulling her forward slightly so that he could see her face. His other hand brushed the freed hair near her temple, disturbing the strand of bells she had woven through it.
His hand dropped at the sound.
"Are you done?" He rose without waiting for an answer and she blinked, suddenly feeling off balance, one hand still holding the ivory comb.
He turned at the door and looked back at her, his eyes going to the comb, something moving in his face.
"Keep it for next time," he said.
She folded the comb over her heart and rose to her feet, smiling.
Cherry blossoms, silk, and ivory.
The End.