Chapter 2: Persistence
Six hundred twenty-one. Six hundred twenty-two.
She ignores the twin moons watching her as she hangs upside-down from a branch, levering herself up until her elbows touch her knees, then letting gravity straighten her body once more.
Six hundred twenty-three. Six hundred twenty-four.
She knows he was probably informed of her newest bout of fanatical training by their teammate, and prepares to brush off his admonition. Instead of speaking, though, he merely seats himself by the foot of the tree, hiding those pale orbs away behind introspective curtains. Tenten disregards him anyway, straining her torso to pull herself up again.
Six hundred twenty-five. Six hundred twenty-six. Six hundred twenty-seven.
She drops down at a thousand, nearly falling to her knees as dizziness smashes a hard hand across her eyes. Neji makes no comment, though, and she is almost relieved. She takes a moment to stretch, trying to force herself into a more relaxed state. Despite the cramps and sores in her overworked muscles, she reaches one foot forward and settles her weight on her back leg, bringing her left hand up while the other presses towards the ground.
It is a similar position to the Gentle Fist's, employed by the Hyuuga clan, but it is anything but gentle. Its name is the Shape Will Fist, and it is based on the linear thrusts and explosive potency of spear fighting. Will she has in spades, but shape requires tireless toil to attain combat perfection. In slow motion, she steps forward, pushing her hand out in synchronicity with her shifting momentum to empower it with her full weight. She imprints the form into her mind and into her body by repeating the attack, accelerating an almost imperceptible amount each time.
Nine hundred ninety-seven. Nine hundred ninety-eight. Nine hundred ninety-nine.
"Why are you here?" she asks on her last iteration. Her throat is parched and her voice almost cracks. Neji opens his eyes and regards her coolly. She does not flinch and he does not answer.
"If you're going to be here anyway, you might as well make yourself useful and spar me," she snaps. She is aware that her misdirected anger seeds wanton impropriety into her tone, but the insurmountable strength implied within the silent frame of Neji infuriates her. He stands, assuming the stance of the Gentle Fist.
Even unfocused by irrational rage, her opening strike blazes with destructive power. He pushes it aside, equally unaffected by her words, her wrath and her force. She kicks low at his ankles to drive him from stable ground, but he pivots easily to evade, taking her wrist in one hand and pressing his palm against her spine. Instinctively, she braces for a counterattack, but it never comes.
Damn him.
Tenten tries to spin about, but he follows her turn with measured, even paces. She stops and throws herself backward instead, discarding finesse in favor of doing anything to dislodge him from his high throne. The back of her leg meets the point of his knee and her foundation crumples. As she falls, he turns her around, slamming her facedown in the cold grass.
Even without the lingering effects of the poison and her nigh-masochistic exhaustion, his weight and execution would be more than enough to render her inert. She writhes impotently under the singular pin of his hand, forbidding herself from helpless tears. Instead, she settles for cursing him out loud. He sighs.
"Go home, Tenten," he says, rising. She is up as soon as he is, swinging a wild hook at him. He guides it smoothly across her body, letting the energy whirl her about before ripping her to the ground. The air is blasted from her lungs.
"Go home, Tenten."
She is up again, lashing out blindly. He doesn't try to dodge this time, dedicating his efforts into watching her ire-darkened eyes.
The sound of her fist striking his cheek echoes off the woods. She is too stunned by the sickening feel of the solid feedback to throw another punch. This is the first time she's ever connected with him and only the second time she's even seen him hurt. She stares at her covered knuckles in disbelief, as though they are foreign entities suddenly grafted to her without her knowledge.
"Are you satisfied?" he asks quietly, not bothering to staunch the rivulet of blood that flows from the corner of his mouth. She must have cut the inside of his lip on his teeth. Tenten buries her twinge of regret under a mountain of irritation.
"Why are you here?" she reiterates. Again, she is answered only by his blank stare. She storms past him and, though the adrenaline of the moment has displaced the foggy clumsiness that afflicted her previously, she somehow feels even more wretched than before.
【[_|[__§__]|_]】
One thousand one hundred eighty-six. One thousand one hundred eighty-seven.
Tenten tracks her progress in the privacy of her head. She is not discouraged by the events of last night, though the guilt burdens her as surely as Lee's ankle weights. He had lent them to her with a dubious look and only after profuse reassurance that she had fully recovered. Truth be told, she still feels the symptoms slowing her nerves, though the tingling vibration in her knuckles troubles her more. Thankfully, he is too busy running laps around Konoha to see any of that.
She resists the urge to glance at Neji. He is there, as he always is, quietly meditating in the shade, as he has been since before the sun rose. She knows he can see her training. Eyelids, after all, are nothing before his powerful bloodline limit. Gritting her teeth, she works harder, scattering beads of sweat with each progressively sharper and more aggressive repetition.
He is watching her. She knows it. On a whim, she sends a throwing star humming at him. He has enough respect for her ability to cant his head to the side to avoid it. It slams into the tree behind him, peppering his dark hair with bits of bark.
"What am I doing wrong?" she asks, frustration lacing her speech, as he returns the weapon to her. The white scrutiny is directed at her again. Just as she is about to give up on his help, he exhales slowly and adopts her fighting pose.
"Tuck your elbows in and shoot from the heart," he says, demonstrating a swift straight. His double meaning is not lost on her. She mimics his motion once. Twice. Three times.
Five hundred sixty-nine. Five hundred seventy. Five hundred seventy-one.
"Hardness comes from softness," Neji says. She sees now that he is relaxed before and after the instantaneous action of the push. Again, she acts as a faithful mirror to him, echoing his technique like an infinite cascade. Noon comes and goes, unacknowledged by food or rest.
Eight hundred ninety-eight. Eight hundred ninety-nine.
"You need to eat," he says, breaking her rhythmic concentration. The sun is on a downward decline, casting a graduated orange glow through the sky. She realizes that she hasn't eaten since before dawn, and that she is starving.
"Spar me first," she challenges. He sighs again and, in the low light, she sees that his face is still discolored from when she struck him. With infinite patience, he sinks into the Gentle Fist and she tries her best to calm herself, both mentally and emotionally.
He doesn't dodge quite as easily this time and the edge of her hand skims across his shirt. She finds herself moving more fluidly in this state, even managing to duck under the sweep of his forearm. The low to high arc of his heel catches her mid-step, though, and staggers her backward. Tenten retaliates with a kick of her own, but without proper balance, it goes too high and her supporting leg promptly is torn out from under her by the stiff blade of Neji's arm. She slams into the earth and rolls back to her feet.
Tenten backpedals to avoid the sleeve that whips through the air before her face. Too late, she realizes it was just a visual blind for the real attack and tenses to receive the punishment for her failure. But in place of the crushing rebuke to her stomach she expects, she feels just a light tap.
"A supple reed breaks less easily," Neji advises. There is no arrogance in his visage, no triumph. She has always had a hard time reading him, though. He turns and starts back towards Konoha.
"Come."
Eating will make her stronger as well, she compromises somewhat reluctantly with herself. She knows she is making progress. The thought of it brings a small smile to her face. Tenten swears internally to do another thousand after dinner, and then she can try sparring Neji once more. Idly, she wonders where her anger has gone, but the serenity in her mind has proven much more constructive.
Another thousand after dinner, she promises the waxing sun, then hurries to catch Neji's retreating silhouette.
Feedback is welcome.