Author's Notes: Neji/Ten. Some violence. Sort of.
A Thousand Years of Nightmares
There was a struggle going on behind that door, he knew it. He could hear it. Still, no matter what he did, the door wouldn't budge. He couldn't get to her.
"Tenten!"
Only the sound of scuffling and heavy breathing answered him, with the occasional whimper of pain that sent something cold right through him. He rammed his shoulder against the door again and was only pushed back by his own strength, defeated by what should have only been wood. He felt ill and out of sorts and couldn't comprehend why everything he did failed when she needed him so.
"Neji..."
His name was barely a croak and it cracked something inside him. Tenten would never call for him in that way, her voice vulnerable and weak. That she had actually done so only meant... it meant...
With one furious, desperate kick Neji broke down the only obstacle between him and her and found himself looking into his deepest nightmare.
Hiashi stood in the middle of the room, holding Tenten by the neck as he slowly crushed her windpipe, his arm lined with bloody gashes as Tenten feebly struggled to free herself.
Hiashi looked over his shoulder at him and said calmly, "You must destroy all your weaknesses." With one final rush of chakra, the light faded from Tenten's eyes and Hiashi let her drop to the floor carelessly, as if she were nothing.
And, as Neji watched, that's what she became, the wind erasing her image like a scattering of dust.
His own broken scream of rage awakened him.
"Neji," Tenten was beside him, shaking his shoulder gently, her fingers cool against his forehead. He stared at her as if he had no idea who she was before it came to him that he had been dreaming again, the same hellish dream he had had for the last week. He turned his face away from her and she dropped her hands, waiting patiently.
After a minute he said, "I'm alright," and she nodded, knowing it was true. And it was. He knew the nightmare for what it was - a lie. For Tenten had never been a weakness, not when the fact that she was still alive brought him immediate strength.
No, what he needed to defeat was one hundred years of ingrained traditions that had long outgrown their usefulness.
And, somehow, when he looked at her, it didn't seem so impossible.
The End.