Two weeks to comply with the hidden cloud's terms had given Hizashi both too much and too little time. Too little time to see his young son grow old, too much time to agonize over everything he would miss in Neji's life.
After Hiashi accepted his brother's sacrifice with a grave nod, Hizashi paced the gardens and courtyards of the Hyuga compound for hours. He wore his sandals thin as he wore his mind with thoughts of Neji. Nearing sundown that day, Hiashi intercepted his brother mid-circuit and proposed a series of letters addressed to his son as he grew older. That way, Neji could have his father's voice in his ear through every season of life.
The idea struck Hizashi as uncharacteristically sensible from a man far more at ease with running a clan than running a home. The day after, Hizashi rose while the pale light of early morning still tinted his bedroom in a white glow, before Neji awoke and called for his father. He pulled a stack of paper from the desk in his study, and clenched a pen between his thumb and forefinger.
Then he began to write. Hizashi continued writing until the evening winds rustled the leaves outside and his eyes ached.
The evening before Hizashi's scheduled execution, the hidden cloud's ultimatum hung in the still air between brothers. Seated across the table from one another, one seemed a reflection of the other. Instead of articulating every regret before Hiashi, Hizashi simply handed his brother a packet of letters bound in rope. All addressed to Neji Hyuga, slated for delivery anytime from his son's 12th birthday and beyond.
"I trust you'll deliver these to Neji?" Hizashi asked, lips pressed into a thin line.
Each crisp envelope bore a date or an occasion listed in Hizashi's tilting, angular handwriting.
Hiashi held the packet gingerly in both his hands, the paper so light yet carrying unspeakable weight.
"I will. You have my word."
The Hyuga clan head dipped his head and clasped his hands before him. A rare gesture of genuflection from a member of the main clan to a member of the branch clan. In the room next to them, 4-year-old Neji Hyuga slept in his bed. Hizashi had found himself unable to explain his impending death to such an innocent and trusting face. His stomach twisted at the thought of Neji clinging to his robes and screaming, begging for him to stay. In his cowardice, Hizashi opted for silence. The mild-mannered, sweet boy had no idea he would soon lose a father. Ink on paper offered a poor substitute for a flesh and blood father to hold him and offer him words of comfort. But it would need to suffice.
"Thank you, Hiashi. For...all of this."
Hiashi raised his palms.
"No, it was the least I could offer. I-I'm taking Neji's father…"
And leaving only the shadow of him behind. Both brothers knew the unspoken conclusion to Hiashi's unfinished statement.
Two quick raps sounded on Neji's door. Stirring, he glanced toward the entrance of his corner bedroom to find an envelope slipped under the door. Once his bare feet hit the floorboards, Neji heard the person on the other side begin to walk away. Two steps later, the figure in the corridor outside spoke – his uncle, from the clipped tenor of his voice.
"Happy birthday, Neji. I left you something from your father," Hiashi said, before continuing down the corridor.
His uncle hadn't even opened the door to greet Neji, now 12 years old and quickly developing a reputation as the strongest genin of his generation. It didn't surprise Neji that Hiashi Hyuga opted to keep his distance. Hiashi lacked tact with children under the best of circumstances. But even Neji could tell he wanted to avoid his nephew's fire-filled glare. Out of guilt for stealing his father, perhaps.
Neji examined the envelope with narrowed eyes. His father was dead – thanks to the man who'd just delivered the "gift." For a moment, a flash of anger struck him as he wondered whether the clan head meant to play a joke on his orphaned nephew. But Hiashi Hyuga never joked, never wasted his words on insincerity.
Two hours until training, he thought. Might as well open the "gift." Neji slid his index finger beneath the top of the envelope and flicked upward, tearing the paper with a sharp ktch. Inside, he found a sheet of paper folded in thirds, as crisp as if the one who sealed the envelope had done so yesterday.
The page held a letter addressed to him – My dear Neji – and concluded with a "your loving father."
Releasing a sharp exhale, Neji sat on the floor with his legs folded beneath him and the paper clenched in both hands.
My dear Neji,
As I write this letter to you, my heart breaks that you will never know your father in the flesh. This is the first of many letters I have written you so that you may have me by your side while you go through your life. I have entrusted your uncle with delivering my letters to you – if you are reading this one, I would like to wish you a happy 12th birthday.
I am sorry that I have not seen you as you advanced through the academy and no doubt became a competent young shinobi. I hope your uncle at least attended your graduation ceremony at the academy and watched you don your headband.
As he read that sentence, Neji scowled at the page. Hiashi Hyuga hadn't attended his graduation. Nobody from the Hyuga compound had, except his childhood nanny, a soft older woman no longer in the clan's employ. Even the also-orphaned Rock Lee had Might Gai weeping tears of joy and cheering him from among the crowd of happy parents. His father was a naive fool, he thought – no wonder he died. Then Neji slammed a fist into his knee and internally scolded himself for thinking ill of his father. Really, his father was just an unfortunate casualty of the wretched clan system that still bound him.
Once his heaving breaths re-equilibrated, Neji fixated his white eyes on the page once again and continued reading.
It is my hope that your uncle will raise you like a son, and you will grow up seeing your cousin as a sister.
With your inborn talents, I believe you can not only succeed in your line of work, but excel. Our clan's trait, the Byakugan, runs strongest in you out of anyone among your generation. You are destined for great accomplishments, Neji. Perhaps one day, you may rise above the circumstances of your birth. Do not allow anyone of any station to tell you that you are inferior, or only good to serve others.
The words constricted the knot building in Neji's stomach. Destined for great accomplishments. Rise above the circumstances of your birth. His father's ambitions were easy to put on paper. Yet they offered little comfort or encouragement. Glancing at his reflection in the window pane, Neji caught a glimpse of the crisp green lines snaking across his forehead. His uncle had already destined him for something, and none of those were great accomplishments.
I may no longer be alive, but please take my letters as a sign that I am not truly gone. As long as you have my words, and as long as you take them to heart, you will have me in some form. I promise, I have not forsaken you.
Until next time.
Sincerely,
Your loving father.
Neji's quivering hands tensed, crumpling the paper in a tight fist. Hot tears gathered at the corners of his eyes as he buried his face in his mattress. Turning 12 years old proved a joyless occasion.
Ten-ten Sato slapped her backpack on the scuffed kitchen table of her family's upstairs apartment. Her father, Jiro Sato, watched her with a raised brow as she continued ranting about her Hyuga teammate. Neji Hyuga, son of Hizashi Hyuga, Jiro recalled. He knew every member of Ten-ten's genin team by name and face. Ever the sharp listener, Jiro tilted his head to receive the bits of information scattered in today's recollection.
He'd heard all of her current grievances before – almost word for word. The unbearable smugness of Neji Hyuga was his daughter's favorite subject.
"...and that little snob was going on again about our stupid destiny and how –"
"Ten-ten," Jiro interjected.
"Yeah, dad?"
Huffing, Ten-ten crossed her arms. Jiro pulled a chair next to him, inviting her to sit and listen – no easy feat for a girl so absorbed in her own hardships. She settled in the chair, kicking her feet against the table and twisting her hands. She watched him with pursed lips and a tilt of her head that said hurry up, Dad. You'd better not waste my time with another lecture.
"You realize Neji doesn't have a mother or father like you do, right? You're probably too young to remember, but his father –"
"No wonder he's so mean then," Ten-ten countered. "Nobody's there to tell that Hyuga snob he's not the greatest thing to ever happen to this village."
Jiro returned a strained smile.
"Perhaps you're correct, Ten-ten. Personally, I believe the way he lost his father at such a young age makes him bitter."
The gentle correction made Ten-ten shake her head. Of course, a 12-year-old girl who'd never known the loss of a parent couldn't understand her position of privilege. Being the daughter of a grocer had few advantages over being a child of the hidden leaf's wealthiest clan. However, Jiro and his wife wouldn't ever find themselves called to fight or die for the village's safety.
"Growing up without a mother or father can be difficult," Jiro added. "I lost my father to illness when I was a little older than Neji is now."
Oblivious, Ten-ten curled her lip in a scowl.
"Okay? It's not my fault his dad's dead."
"I know it's not. But Neji could use a friend, Ten-ten."
She answered only with a harsh laugh.
"Really? He'd want to be a friend with a nobody like me? Dad, I don't want to hear every day about how it's my destiny to always be second to him."
"You'll be surprised, Ten-ten. Offer to have lunch with him tomorrow and if he refuses, I won't bother you about this again."
Jiro laid a square hand on Ten-ten's slender shoulders.
"Fine, Dad. Can I go now?"
"You may, Ten-ten."
Ten-ten's bare feet landed on the floorboards with a slap, and she ran upstairs to her attic bedroom. Jiro shook his head. At least he could tell himself he tried to help the Hyuga boy.
"Hey. What're you reading there?" Ten-ten asked, angling her head to look over Neji's shoulder at the paper in his hands.
She could see the fine wrinkles and worn creases where restless hands had handled the paper countless times. For the past month, she'd eaten lunch by Neji's side every day. They sat wordlessly most of the time, with occasional exchanges about the weather or Might Gai's unhinged routines. Otherwise, Neji appeared to prefer silence. The sight of Neji reading during his break piqued her curiosity too much for her to say nothing. But Ten-ten knew better than to expect an answer from a boy who said perhaps 10 sentences over an entire day of training.
"None of your business, Ten-ten," Neji snapped. "Why don't you go talk to Lee? He's more your kind."
He gestured in the direction of their teammate and sensei, both crabwalking across the training green while waxing about the power of youth.
"No, I'm good. I...just wanted to know."
Ten-ten set her chin in the valley between her knees and pursed her lips. She could have joined Lee and Gai. No doubt, their sensei would be overjoyed to have another devotee lining up for extra training during lunch. But something other than the repulsive prospect of more training anchored her to the ground next to Neji.
"Don't mind me," she added. Ten-ten picked at a rice ball, eyes fixated away from her teammate.
"If you must know, Ten-ten, it's a letter from my father."
"Yeah? I thought your father – oh, sorry. I-I shouldn't say."
"My father is dead," he countered, a hard edge to his voice. "You can say it. I've been well aware since I was four years old."
Ten-ten feigned a cough into her fist. Blood rushed to her face and neck, while she regretted not joining the others as Neji suggested.
"Oh, okay. I was just wondering how you got his letter then."
Neji sighed and shook his head, clearly exasperated with her obliviousness. What a jerk, Ten-ten thought.
"Before his death, my father wrote me a series of letters to be delivered throughout my life."
A stab of pity struck Ten-ten's heart as she imagined knowing her own father only through letters. She would have just as likely left them unread to avoid the pain of knowing – and longing for – a man she'd never meet.
Clearly Neji had read his father's letters many times. Maybe he read them for comfort – not that Ten-ten could imagine Neji emotionally affected by anything other than his own superiority.
"That's nice of him, I guess. So...uh, what's in them?"
"Last I checked, the letters were not addressed to you, Ten-ten."
"Geez, no need to say it like that."
"I was simply stating a fact. It's not my fault you're too sensitive to accept it."
Dad, at least I tried. After Neji hadn't rebuffed her on their first lunch break together, Ten-ten's father had declared victory. He then urged his daughter to build a habit of eating with her teammate.
Thanks, Dad. You're not the one who has to spend lunch next to that jerk.
Neji's secrecy compounded Ten-ten's fascination with the letter. She managed to hold her words for the remainder of lunch, but thoughts of the mysterious letter resurfaced over and over while she jogged laps around the village. Fifty laps later, Ten-ten's muscles burned and her mind burned to know what Neji hid from her. If she snuck a peek while Neji had his back turned, what harm could it do? Just as long as she remained silent and otherwise left him unbothered.
During the team's mid-afternoon water break, Ten-ten slipped her hand into Neji's pack while he retreated into the forest to pee. Her heart pounded against her breastbone as her clammy hands retrieved the envelope from a back pocket and unfolded the paper.
Ten-ten's eyes darted up and down the page, and side to side. She raced to absorb every word before Neji returned to catch her indiscretion. And if he caught her, she imagined not even Might Gai and Lee combined could restrain her furious teammate.
My dear Neji,
I know you received my last letter not too long ago, but I understand being 12 years old is a difficult time. I could not help writing to you again. Hopefully this letter will be met with happiness. You will experience challenges not only from your shinobi training. Those, I trust you can overcome with ease. But you will inevitably face challenges from the people in your life. You may find your teammates difficult to work with. They may not share your background or your outlook on life. I struggled to adapt when first placed on a team with two genin from rival clans. Both of them seemed to hate me solely for the way I looked and how I spoke.
But in time, we became best friends and remained friends until my final days. I encourage you to seek alliances from those who may not seem like obvious allies. Though you have exceptional abilities, do not believe for a minute that you may survive on those alone. You will be surprised by how many people around you mean well.
Until next time.
Sincerely,
Your loving father
Glancing around her, Ten-ten saw nobody within easy viewing distance. She read the letter again – noting the angry creases in the paper where Neji had probably crumpled it. More than once, maybe.
He doesn't even listen to them, she remarked to herself. A series of Neji's dismissive remarks echoed in her mind, some of them from the day before, even. If he listened to his dad, he'd definitely be less of a jerk. Yet Neji still valued the letters enough to stow them in his pack and read them in an almost ritualistic way. Did he somehow cling to the reminder of his dead father even as he scorned the message? Or was there something else – a latent conflict in her teammate when his love and admiration for his father clashed with the cold cynicism she knew too well?
When he returned to his pack, Ten-ten greeted Neji with a grin that strained her lip and bared both sets of teeth. He answered her smile with narrowed eyes and a scrunched brow.
"What has you so happy, Ten-ten?" he asked, a cutting edge to his voice.
Her face flushed, and she prayed he couldn't see the red no doubt tinging her ears. She tilted her head and pretended to laugh.
"Nothing...much," she stammered. "I was just wondering if you wanted to get some ramen after training today. If you're not doing anything at home. Because, uh, I really like having lunch with you!"
Neji shook his head and turned from her. To her surprise, he said nothing. Ten-ten braced to hear no way, or it's adorable you think we're friends, or something nastier. The lack of answer and the tension she could see in his shoulders also spelled the possibility of explosive rage. She'd only seen her teammate explode a handful of times – usually after Lee's taunts pushed him to the edge, or they experienced failure on a mission. The silence and wound-up muscles always preceded the outpouring of Neji's rage.
Oh no, why did I have to say something? – she thought. I should have just let him be mad. Not like that's any different from the way he always is.
She almost choked on the bile in her mouth. Ten-ten stood and bladed her hands in front of her chest, just how Might Gai had taught her to defend herself against a stronger attacker. Just as she parted her lips to retract her invitation, Neji slung one strap of his backpack over his shoulder and pivoted back to her.
"I have nothing better to do. Why not?"
The prospect of dinner with Neji scared her almost as much as facing him in mock battle. She had little notion what they'd talk about, what interested him other than defending his pride before his inferior teammates. Still, she swallowed and nodded.
"I-it's a date, then. I'll see you by Ichiraku at 7 pm."
Ten-ten plastered the same false grin on her face. Neji's lips curved into a smile. This one had nothing fake about it.
"I got a new letter today," Neji declared during lunch.
With a quick gasp, Ten-ten tore her gaze from the contents of her lunchbox to watch him with narrowed eyes. She rolled the tip of her tongue between her teeth – a sign of discomfort he'd come to recognize in their months together.
He glanced with a slightly pitying expression at Ten-ten's sesame-seed coated rice balls. Filling and no doubt prepared with care, but not as rich or nourishing as his lunches. Suddenly conscious of the spread in his lunchbox, Neji raised the lid, and angled it away from Ten-ten's line of sight. Neither teammate brought attention to the clear disparity between their food. They both registered the way Ten-ten's scuffed sandals bore patches and the edges of her toes hung off the end – but left the observations unsaid.
"Oh, nice."
Ten-ten scrunched her brows for a moment before forcing a smile.
When Neji said nothing immediately, she prompted him with another question.
"So, what's this one about? If you don't mind me asking, of course."
Neji didn't need his Byakugan's enhanced vision to see unease in Ten-ten's shrugs or the involuntary twitches of her hands. She's been spying on me, looking in my pack while I'm away, he thought, before rejecting the uncharitable speculation. No, Ten-ten showed him no ill-will in the time since they'd begun their new association – friendship, teambuilding, whatever he wanted to call it. Neji recalled his father's last letter, and the message about seeking alliances and friendships in unconventional places. He couldn't ally himself with the konoichi if he pointed a finger in her face and accused her of invading his privacy.
"Interesting you ask that, Ten-ten."
"Hey, I'm curious, that's all. Curious about what a dad writes to his son when he's not around, you know?"
He huffed. Ten-ten's untroubled innocence endeared her to him. Considering the question for a few seconds, Neji decided to show her. Part of him relished the thought of tarnishing that innocence, if only so she could stop telling him to smile more. He'd show her why he couldn't share her happy view of the world, where a grocer's daughter could surpass the legendary Tsunade Senju.
On a more fundamental level, he needed to share his rage with somebody, to hopefully make her blood sing with the same heat. Disclosure would relieve the suffocating feeling that gathered in his chest with the weight of secrets, his own and the clan's.
"Fair enough," Neji answered at last. "This one did cause me to feel rather strongly. Not exactly in the way my father intended."
Reaching a hand into the back pocket of his pack, Neji retrieved the envelope before opening the letter and angling just-so to allow Ten-ten access to his father's words. Ten-ten gasped in acknowledgment of his wordless invitation – she gestured to the paper, and he nodded.
Together, the teammates began to read, Ten-ten's airy whisper echoing each word.
My dear Neji,
I hope my letters continue to be a welcome addition to your life. If I were alive to see you, I would ask about the progress of your training and the state of your relations with colleagues and family. Unfortunately, as I have made clear in every letter I've written and will write, I am not able to be present. Therefore, I trust that you are satisfied with both spheres of your life, and that I would only have the greatest pride in you.
If you are reading this letter, I can only conclude that your uncle is still upholding his end of the agreement we made prior to my untimely death. It is my sincere hope that you do not resent your uncle for being the one to deliver them in my stead, that you harbor no ill-will toward him. He was my brother, and despite our disagreements –
Upon re-reading the appeal for forgiveness, Neji growled, low and deep. Behind him, he heard Ten-ten flinch and fall back onto the leaf litter.
We were never that different. As you know, we are identical in every bodily way. We used to switch places for a day to fool those around us, quite an amusing game for two young boys! My brother, your uncle would attend academy classes in my stead, while I would shadow our father as he instructed me on the art of serving as clan head. On the days when I would replace my brother, our father would sometimes remark on how 'Hiashi' paid attention better than usual and asked such incisive questions! I would seethe silently on those occasions, angry that my brother was slated for a far better destiny than I. The best I could hope for, I thought in those days, was to be the most valued servant of the clan and village.
Neji's hand spasmed, his thumb denting the sheet of paper and crumpling it at the edges. Next to him, he formed a fist and crunched the leaves by his side. He squeezed his eyes closed. Then turned his head to look back at Ten-ten, who met his look with wide eyes.
"Hey, you alright, Neji?" she whispered, a hand brushing the tops of his white knuckles.
He sighed, and mouthed thank you.
Their eyes locked for untold minutes, or maybe only seconds. Neji eventually held the paper closer to his face again, and began to read, now with a scowl on his face.
Of course, our ruse lasted only until I received my seal at 15 years old. Our father or anyone else would only need to notice my covered forehead to determine that I was not my brother. In those days, when we were both on the cusp of adulthood and overflowing with optimism, my brother swore to change the system. He promised that one day, my seal would not matter and that any children I bore would not be sealed. I believed him, Neji. Our bond as brothers endured despite the clear difference in our marked fates.
With time, my brother became just the same as our father, and his father before him. I was outraged when he administered the seal on you, despite his promise so long ago. Once he became clan head, he refused to even acknowledge that he had ever questioned the division in our clan between branch and main. The familial affection I once felt toward my brother soon soured to hatred, as I plotted to hold him to his promise – whether by his free will or otherwise. I regret to say my hatred culminated in an attempt on the life of your cousin, Hinata. For this offense, I was punished as you may remember –
"I remember," Neji muttered.
"Yeah?"
Ten-ten drew a deep breath and ground her lower lip between her teeth. She knew what punishment meant from conversations she'd had with her teammate on other occasions. Though Ten-ten had visibly burned to spill the Hyuga secrets before the village, a firm shake of Neji's head dissuaded her. Even now, Neji could see that just the mention of mind-rending torture made her uncomfortable.
"It's one of my few memories of my father. The punishment. The helplessness...I was there, forced to kneel before my uncle."
"I'm sorry...that's hard," Ten-ten answered, moving inches closer to him.
When Neji showed no signs of rebuffing her or wanting her to move away, she shifted again so that their sides just touched. His body molded into hers, then he forced his eyes back to the page.
I tell you this history not to build your resentment or drive you to seek revenge on my behalf. I tell you so that I may inform you of where hatred leads. Neji, your cousin is not your enemy. By blood alone, she is your sister, and I believe you should consider her as such. Recognize that branch or main clan, whatever injustices were perpetuated in our past, we are more alike than different. Only then can our family begin to heal.
Until next time.
Sincerely,
Your loving father.
Upon reading the final words, Neji's shoulders tensed until he crouched, subconsciously readying for a strike. He contorted into all angles and tightly drawn muscle, his senses clarified by the renewed rage within him. A second review of his father's latest letter hadn't blunted any of the visceral stabs of anger and grievance that afflicted him the first time.
Ten-ten pinched the corners of her lips and dipped her head down, almost as if in prayer. Beside her, Neji's breathing grew irregular and more ragged by the second. He stuffed the letter back into his pack without bothering with the usual ritual of re-folding and placing it into the envelope.
"Hey. Hey, Neji. You okay?" Ten-ten asked. "What's wrong?"
"The nerve of the man. To ask me to forgive."
His hoarse whisper, laced with barely concealed venom, elicited a shudder from the teammate beside him.
"You're not okay. I know it. I think your father has a point –"
"You know nothing."
"I just wanted to make sure you were feeling alright, because the chunin exams are in a few weeks," Ten-ten ventured. "Can't compete as a team if you're not all the way –"
"Yes, I understand. The exams are coming soon," he snapped. "Don't worry about me. I'm more driven and ready than ever before."
In response, she released an oh.
"That's a relief. I suppose the letter didn't affect you quite as badly as I expected."
"Hm."
"Can I ask? Why did you show me? Why not Lee?"
A single harsh laugh shook Neji's frame.
"You really expect me to show this to that fool? You expect him to understand any of what we've suffered?"
"I...uh, guess not," Ten-ten muttered.
"You're different from the rest. Even if you don't realize it."
Her golden brown eyes darted from side to side. Yet another sign of unease Neji could recognize – a sign that she wanted to run away, but couldn't bring herself to move.
After her bruising defeat at the hands of the sand konoichi, the med-nin insisted that Ten-ten miss a week of training to recover at home. She barely met her father's eyes when he slipped through her bedroom door and closed it with a click.
"Dad? What're you doing here?" she asked, voice breaking under the weight of her utter humiliation before her teammates and teacher. "I...I can't believe...I thought…"
"Ten-ten, you're a wonderful konoichi. I've seen how hard you worked –"
"But Dad. I-I wasn't ready for her. Nothing I did…"
Jiro Sato sighed and ran his hand across a lock of his daughter's brown hair. The gesture – now rare – elicited a blush and embarrassed smirk from Ten-ten.
"How many chunin became chunin at 14 years old? Most shinobi don't pass the exams on their first try."
She rolled her eyes, as she now often did when her mother or father commented on shinobi matters. Though they'd spent their lives in a hidden village among shinobi, that proximity didn't give them as much familiarity as they sometimes believed. The open wound torn by the destruction of her pride still pained her, raw and visceral. Yet Ten-ten had heard her father's point made by academy instructors and her superiors alike. Before the exams, Might Gai never raised the possibility of failure with his students. He had nevertheless consoled Ten-ten with this fact when he visited her in the infirmary.
"I know, Dad," she muttered. "I'll just...I guess he was right. I'm not destined to be as good as Tsunade, because I'm not the first hokage's granddaughter and I have nothing special going for me –"
"Neji Hyuga?"
"Yeah. He still says that kind of thing a lot."
Ten-ten's father attempted a smile.
"It's unfortunate he thinks of people as so...lacking in potential. I do wonder how your time together has changed him."
"He talks to me sometimes. And I don't need to ask him questions first. Answers with more than a three words at a time, too."
Father and daughter shared a quick laugh. Ten-ten had engaged Neji in an entire exchange about Might Gai's bowlcut the week before the chunin exams. She even coaxed him to joke about how terrible he would look with one.
"Ah, so you've become friends?"
"I guess."
In the months since she started settling next to him for lunch, Ten-ten never stopped to consider labels for the strange coexistence they shared. Yes, she supposed her teammate was a friend – a conversation partner, someone who confided in her and let his guard down in her presence.
"I-Ten-ten, as much as I hate to tell you this...perhaps you shouldn't see him anymore."
"Dad! You were the one who told me –"
Jiro clenched a fist and stared at the nightstand, avoiding his daughter's golden brown eyes.
"I did tell you to befriend him, before I realized –" he began, before shaking his head and rephrasing his remarks.
"The Hyuga boy's circumstances are certainly regrettable. I can understand his actions in light of everything he's experienced with his clan."
Ten-ten curled her toes, sensing hesitation in her father's quivering voice.
"What did he do, Dad?" she almost whispered.
"Ten-ten. He almost killed his own cousin. I-I can't explain it either. I really – whatever our circumstances in life, we can still choose good and he failed."
Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head. The shocking disclosure slammed Ten-ten's nerves with numbing trauma, blunt enough to keep her from processing the full impact of what her father just said. Neji Hyuga – a member of the Hyuga branch clan – had raised open rebellion against Hiashi Hyuga, one of the most powerful men in the hidden leaf. Hinata was an unfortunate pawn. A way for Neji to vent his anger without touching its true target and risking himself even more.
Ten-ten had sat beside Neji as he read his last letter, crept just inches closer when he bristled with anger. She shivered when she realized that the message – meant to heal and build connection – could have galvanized something so dark.
"I don't think it would be good for me to stop talking to him. He...there's things he told me that...no, I can't believe he's beyond saving."
From the slight pucker in his lips, her father appeared to consider Ten-ten's plea. Then Jiro hardened his features once again. He shook his head in a slow, deliberate arc from side to side.
"He's dangerous, dear."
"He's never tried to hurt me," Ten-ten choked out. "I promise, we're friends and –"
"I'm your father, Ten-ten. Please. Listen to me when I say that Neji Hyuga is headed nowhere good."
Her stomach twisted at his attempt to assert authority. To claim he knew Neji better than she did.
"No. Listen, Dad. I know him. He wouldn't hurt me, I promise," she reiterated, enunciating each syllable.
"I don't want you falling under his influence. Stay on his team if you must, complete missions with him if you must. But any more, and I'm afraid you'll become like him."
Ten-ten rolled onto her side, away from her father's burning eyes.
"Fine, Dad. I won't talk to him anymore."
Jiro released a long sigh, as if he clearly didn't buy his daughter's half-hearted agreement.
"Okay, Ten-ten. I know it's hard to leave behind a friend, but you're making the right decision. Our friends are no longer our friends if they pull us down like this."
"Yeah, good night Dad," Ten-ten answered in a pointed lilt.
Her father set a hand on her shoulder, then slipped back through the door.
A mixture of confusion, defiance, grief and anger stewed within Ten-ten. She wouldn't leave him alone, but Neji wouldn't escape without explanation either.
Ten-ten emerged from behind a tree as Neji executed another round of the rotation jutsu. Flawless, she observed. She could expect no less from a genuine prodigy. Her heart pounded as she stepped closer, trying to blunt the sound of her footsteps across the leaf-strewn grass of the training green.
"Hey," she said. "You doing okay there? Want a water break?"
As powerful as it was, the rotation jutsu tired her teammate far more than regular taijutsu or ninjutsu.
"I could use some water, thank you."
The pulsing blue cloud of chakra dissipated around Neji, and he turned to her with unrevealing white eyes. She returned a dry smile, avoiding the question – the incident – no doubt fresh on both of their minds. Though she still stood by everything she told her father the day prior, Ten-ten nevertheless steeled her core to defend herself in case Neji's emotions overwhelmed him again.
The teammates settled at the roots of a broad tree. Neji stared at his hands. With what emotion, Ten-ten couldn't tell. He appeared unsure of how to engage her, and she suspected the awkwardness wasn't only because of the time they'd spent apart during her recovery. Perhaps he'd become an outcast in the wake of his attempted murder of Hiashi Hyuga's daughter. The chunin exam rules aside, blood ran thick in the hidden leaf village. Trying to kill a fellow leaf genin – a clan heiress no less – branded him a deviant.
When Neji finally spoke, his voice cracked with disuse and what sounded like pain.
"I'm happy to see you've recovered," he whispered. "I thought of your company often while you were away."
Ten-ten turned her gaze upward, into the green tree canopy. A flush spread across her cheeks when confronted with his naked vulnerability.
"Oh, that's good to hear."
She feigned a laugh into her balled hand.
"I mean it sincerely. Nobody else has spoken a non-obligatory word to me since...since the preliminary matches."
"I can see why," Ten-ten interjected before her mind could catch her tongue.
Still, she opted to let the words stand without an apology. She'd meant what she said.
"I can as well. It's a horrifying feeling, Ten-ten."
"What is?"
He touched the cool metal on his hidden leaf headband. Unlike Lee or their sensei, Ten-ten knew exactly what lay beneath. The seal surely weighed on his mind in addition to the heavy guilt of attempted murder. Dread pooled in her stomach as she wondered whether he'd received punishment for trying to kill Hinata Hyuga. Ten-ten was afraid to ask, and she sensed Neji would be reluctant to answer her.
The image of him doubled on his knees, clutching his forehead amid the pulses of pain, compounded Ten-ten's guilt for neglecting him while she recovered. If Hiashi Hyuga had punished his nephew, at most he would leave Neji in bed and direct the servants to bring him food and water. The neglect would further break the prodigal Hyuga, maybe intentionally.
"I allowed my desire for vengeance to make me a monster...my father would be ashamed."
"He wouldn't."
One corner of Neji's lip twitched upward.
"I appreciate your comforting words, but I am sure...I've become the son he told me not to become."
Ten-ten ventured closer – laying a gloved hand on the curve of his slumped shoulders.
"Really. You're lucky she didn't die – that means you have another chance."
Instead of protesting further, her teammate closed his eyes and nodded once.
"So, you got any more letters from your dad?"
After many moments of silence, Neji cleared his throat.
"Yes. One more since the preliminary exams."
Ten-ten noted that he said nothing about what the letter contained, or whether he'd read it yet. Her intuitions told her he hadn't even opened the crisp white envelope.
"So. What was this one about, Neji?"
"I – I haven't bothered to look. It's in my pack, though."
As I suspected, she thought.
"Hey, I'm sure whatever you've done, your dad would want you to hear him out. Makes writing letters a little pointless if you're not reading them, huh?"
"I suppose you're correct. I-I'm too ashamed to even try. Whatever he has to tell me would probably reinforce how badly I've failed him."
His white eyes opened to gaze into hers. So close to Neji, Ten-ten could see the rims of light pink around his eyes.
"I can read it to you, if you'd like."
Neji leveled his breaths before reaching for the hand on his shoulder, and clasping it between his hands. The sensation of cold, clammy fingers on hers sent a shiver across her skin. So did the fundamental change in their relationship, or at least a definite sign of that change. No doubt they were good friends in his eye, not only friends or colleagues.
She shook those thoughts away. Ten-ten recentered her thoughts on offering him comfort and support in the present.
"Please. If it wouldn't trouble you too much, Ten-ten."
With his permission, Ten-ten reached into Neji's pack. Surely enough, she found an intact envelope in the back pocket where he'd kept his father's letters before. He released her hand just long enough for her to tear the seal and unfold the paper. Then Neji enveloped her hand in his once again. His grasping fingers wound between hers, prompting her to lace their hands together.
"You ready?"
"Give me a moment, please."
"Okay. Take as long as you need. I'm not training for the finals, so I have time to spare."
Her feeble joke made him huff and smile, the tips of his teeth peeking between his lips. That was the closest to a laugh she supposed he could muster in his current state.
"Stay like this," Neji sighed, eyes darting to their joined hands.
"I will."
The teammates, friends – whatever they'd become – sat unmoving. Only the rise and fall of their breaths and the rustle of tree leaves above their heads disrupted the stillness and silence.
"I'm ready, Ten-ten."
"I'll stop whenever you'd like me to stop, to give you time to breathe."
Neji shook his head and waved a hand as if to say go ahead – give me the worst, so at least I can know.
Ten-ten began to read, keeping Neji in her peripheral vision to gauge his reactions.
My dear Neji,
As you grow up, you will no doubt make many mistakes and the load of regrets you carry with you will only increase with age. I have shared some of my regrets in the last letter I sent you. However, I am not naive enough to believe you would not share my blunders, warnings aside.
Neji, in my years of life, I have come to understand that there are few mistakes you cannot look back from – here, Neji drew a rattling breath and bowed his head into his hands.
"Should I keep reading?" Ten-ten whispered. She ran her hand along the arc of his bent back, humming in the same way she hummed to calm her crying baby cousin.
She could only hope he wouldn't find the soothing gesture demeaning or worse, an unforgivable intrusion on his personal space. None of her shinobi training had prepared her to handle the tears of her teammates, especially not one as proud as Neji Hyuga.
"Not right –" A sob cut Neji's words short, and he quivered beneath her hands.
"Okay. I'm here for you. I want to help."
"Thank you, Ten-ten."
Neji's sobs graded into the occasional hiccup punctuating his soft cries. Ten-ten waited until he gave her the signal to keep reading. Previewing his father's letter, moving forward without him, felt like a violation. No, Neji meant for them to share whatever pain or relief the letter brought.
"See, your dad would have forgiven you. I mean – he's your dad, he loves you."
Neji renewed his sobbing, his tears thicker this time. Every despairing sob sent needles to Ten-ten's heart. Part of her wanted to run, and she tensed her muscles for a hasty escape. Yet the more insistent part of her demanded to stay. She moved in front of her teammate, as if to shield him from view if any inquiring leaf shinobi walked by.
Ten-ten mentally cursed. Great job, genius. He's worse now because of you.
You're probably making it worse right now, she concluded a moment later. Neji struck her as the kind of boy who cried alone. Ten-ten pictured him nursing his tears in private before facing the world with his composure intact.
"I should go," she muttered. "I'm sorry, okay? I won't talk to you again if you don't want me to."
Neji's hand darted to grab her wrist before she could even withdraw by a single inch. His speed and reflexes were well-honed. Around her wrist, his snot and tear-covered hand felt far too warm.
"No. Please. This is not your fault. I just...if I'd killed her, it wouldn't have been a mistake I could reverse."
He was correct, of course, and Ten-ten knew it. But she felt no need to drive that point home. Doing so would be needless cruelty when his remorse was so apparent.
"It's okay. It's okay, the med-nin know what they're doing. They'll heal Hinata just fine."
Neji nodded, wide eyes meeting hers.
"I understand."
Still, the work required to heal the rift between cousins – and between Neji and his uncle – would require far more than focused healing chakra. Neji tugged on Ten-ten's wrist to bring her closer. She answered his unspoken signal by angling her shoulder so he could rest his head on her. She closed the rest of the distance between them with a crushing embrace.
The taunt muscles beneath her hands soon relaxed.
"Keep reading, Ten-ten."
"Yeah, got it."
Ten-ten looked over his head at the letter in her hand.
I am certain you will learn that a man isn't measured by how often he can avoid mistakes, but by how he learns and atones for those mistakes. True, second chances aren't common when you're a shinobi in the mission field. There, any mistakes can easily mean death. As you may know, the shinigami doesn't often return the souls she claims.
But embrace your second chances, Neji. And when you can, give them generously.
Until next time.
Sincerely,
Your loving father.
As she read, Ten-ten's words grew softer and softer until her final sentence trailed off into a hiss. Heat rose to her face. She wasn't sure whether it was the warm burn of Neji's tears on her skin or the emotions laden in every word of Hizashi Hyuga's letter. Ten-ten wanted to cry with her teammate, to sit beneath the tree while their tears cleansed every regret. Neji clenched handfuls of her pink cotton shirt in his fists and burrowed his face into the hollow above her collarbone.
"I'm sorry for putting you in this situation, Ten-ten."
"Don't worry about me."
She felt his face move up and down against her. A nod.
"I haven't been this close to anybody...since I was a young child."
Implicit in his admission, she heard a plea for them to stay like this, to make this a recurring event. Ten-ten couldn't imagine the amount of cold within the Hyuga compound if nobody made any efforts to hug or even caress a child who needed it. She had a mother and father to give her regular affection, to the point where she sometimes found it grating.
"Just let me know when you need it."
Neither of them needed to say what it was. Looking at her with red-tinged eyes and a splotchy face, Neji seemed grateful that she understood what he needed. The prideful snob in him wouldn't concede weakness so directly. Saying he hadn't experienced real intimacy since childhood was the closest he'd come to admitting he was starved for touch.
"I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You don't have to be without me, okay? I promise."
"My father would be ashamed to see me in this condition."
Ten-ten smiled.
"No. No, he wouldn't be. I think he'd tell you that you're right where you need to be."