[Fanfiction] Sunergos 18 (part 1 of 2)
Title: Sunergos
Chapter 18 (part 1 of 2)
Series: Naruto
Characters: Neji, Hinata, Sakura
Konohagakure no Sato was conveniently tucked in a sprawling valley that was overrun by gigantic trees that were at least hundreds, if not thousands, of years old. Most of its population was centered around the dense village, but there were naturally a few citizens who preferred to live in more private circumstances, avoiding the hustle and bustle that ultimately originated from the Hokage’s office. Other than the larger, more extensive estates of older, more affluent families, there were also a few people, most of whom had retired from the stressful life of ninja, who opted to live in the outskirts of town, like hermits. They lived unobtrusively in easily sustainable homes, carefully hidden from the general populace’s attention.
The hut of old Oli Mau was one of such private domiciles. It was not so much as invisible as unappealing; it sat precariously at the side of a mountain face, as if ready to boot out its inhabitants to a grim death. (And not just any mountain face---it was in an as yet unoccupied area of the Hokage monument.) Call it a ledge, an outcropping, it was nothing more than a slab of stone jutting out from the sharp, near-vertical slope that even plants avoided. It made the house look eternally wind-blown, which in turn explained the house’s running reputation as the most haunted place in Konoha.
It was four walls and a roof, easily built, easily destroyed-perhaps, perhaps not. It didn’t seem so on casual observation, but it was all made of wood. The wood was what made the room seem as ageless and immutable as the rock it was built upon (or rather, the rock the ledge was connected to) The living space, and it was all it was, for all intents and purpose, was tiny but organized. The floor was divided into two. One side was packed dirt, while the other was covered with woven, dried grass. Against one corner was a blanket and a pillow. On another corner was a chest of simple and well-worn clothes, along with an assortment of knickknacks that spoke of a long, involved life. A sack of flour, a slab of cured meat, a jar of water, a stack of firewood. . . all sat on a third corner. On the fourth was a writing desk.
Let it never be said that Hyuuga Neji was anything less than attentive to his dead relatives and comrades. Tradition dictated he follow a ceremonial cult of death, and he went through the motions without fail. Everyday, he visited his parents altar, lit a stick of incense or two, and said a short prayer. It did not, however, imply that he had any particular belief about life after death. Neji had a rather pragmatic view of things: any semblance of existence after death was something to be discovered once dead.
In spite of himself, he had considerable misgivings about being where he was, and it was all due to the influence of a certain somebody’s vague insinuations. The man’s vivacious pontificating was at its most convoluted today, so much that Neji entertained the notion that Lee was actually doing it on purpose, that his loquacious teammate was actually trying to irritate him into a seizure.
Neji was pretty damn close to one.
It wasn’t blind trust that prompted him to do Rock Lee’s bidding. More than ten years of working with the man, had better equipped Neji to deal with the taijutsu specialist’s idiosyncracies. At face value, Rock Lee’s ideas were often so out there----and just outright campy----that normal people found it easier to laugh him off instead of try to understand him. Neji, however, was not “normal,” (and didn’t really have the capacity to laugh things off.) He learned that Rock Lee’s brand of reasoning often made sense with merely a slight readjustment of perspective, the same way an Academy student might realign the lens of an out-of-focus microscope till it clicked in place.
This time, Neji couldn’t summon enough patience to ruminate on such things. He simply avoided the added aggravation of rationalizing Lee's behavior, knowing he might regret it if he succumbed to the anger, and simply brought with him what he was told to bring.
A flask of spring water was tied to his belt. A handful of cold ashes, swept from the family altar last night was inside a folded white envelope, sealed with watered-down rice. Splinters from the foundation of the ancient house of Hyuuga were nestled in the current matriarch’s-he had to settle with Hinata-sama’s----handkerchief and tucked carefully within the folds of his obi. He even came in the prescribed formal yukata he wore the last O-bon festival and a pair of mourning gi he hadn’t worn since he was seventeen. Last but not least, he brought Hanabi’s ceremonial dagger, only one of the symbols that testified to the Branch house’s servitude.
Neji sat on the dirt-floor part of the room, as the tatami mats were fraying, prone to fire, and a little too fragrant to get used to. He began.
“Earth.”
Using himself as the center, he carved a circle on the packed earth with the dagger. The blade, he stuck in front him, hilt-deep.
“Fire.”
He lit two candles. The one of tallow sputtered as soon as the flame licked its wick, coughing out a thick coil of black smoke and an unpleasant smell. The one of soy burned clear and strong. Each went inside the circle, one behind him, the other in front.
“Water.”
He poured the spring water onto a wooden bowl he picked up from the dirty kitchen outside and set it beside the pungent candle.
“Hearth.”
He scattered the splinters to his right.
“Ashes.”
He blew those to his left.
“Dust.”
This was not dust at all. It was his own hair, efficiently snipped at the tips with the evidently razor-sharp dagger he drew from the soil. These he flicked in front him, an odd piece instantly singed by the stuttering tongue of fire, a sharp note to the general malodor.
“Blood.”
He stopped short at blood, feeling the ridiculousness of it all as keenly as the tip of the dagger that nicked his finger. (He was just asking for an infection, wasn’t he, innoculating his fingers with some dead woman’s bacteria. ) He sucked on his bleeding finger instead, spat out the blood, and swallowed the oaths that rose to his mouth in lieu of incantations.
Lee was not very specific when he told his team mate to conduct a seance in the eccentric, former med-nin’s house. A few well-chosen inquiries and the efficient research of a man who had practically lived days in the family library made Neji fairly versed on Hyuuga-style exorcism. Exorcisms and seances had a key difference, of course. The former supposedly drove away spirits, and from his old comrade’s instructions, Neji was supposed to make contact with them.
It was all Neji could come up with on short notice. Besides, the deceased owner of the house had some Hyuuga blood in her; she was a third cousin, thrice removed, according to the clan records. She was the specialist the Hyuuga mednins consulted, when in need of more experienced advice. Hyuuga were far too dignified to positively respond to an ejection, rejection, call it whatever.
Now, the above information, about both this certain mednin's Hyuuga blood and role, was not public knowledge. It was the result of Tenten’s investigation, and thus, the indirect result of the colossal snit Neji had been unable to totally expunge from his system since midnight.
Not wishing to be known thereafter as an arsonist and pyromaniac, Neji managed to resist kicking the now guttering candle in front of him. The wooden bowl was not so lucky, hurling against the far wall with deadly force. The sturdy container survived unscathed, but the wall earned a jagged hole that exposed a hollowing in the thick slab of hardwood. Underneath it was a chest of mementos. And underneath that chest was a crack on the rock itself. In that crack was lodged a wooden box that wasn’t likely to contain jewelry.
Neji began to feel a little more forgiving towards Lee’s decidedly cryptic instructions as he unearthed Oli Mau’s clandestine little hope box. The assortment of scrolls inside, ranging from crisp like new to yellowing and aged, were obviously what he was meant to find here---very delicate information the obscure mednin had accumulated over her long life.
The result of Tenten’s dangerous investigation was in his hands. However, it was evident that somebody, who had been there before him, had taken the choicer cuts of the meat. Whether that person simply had more skills in fraternizing with ghosts, he wasn’t sure, but he meant to find out who it was and what exactly about the obscure Oli Mau was interesting enough to make that someone break the same rules he just did.
Another annoying thing about his excursion was this: despite Neji's exacting attempts to not decimate the rancid hovel in his profound irritation, the ledge decided to give way just as he stepped off it. It was bound to happen, of course, the dictations of physics, geology, and all that. Nobody in the village would really be surprised to see it gone.
And see, Neji himself wasn't the slightest bit sorry over the loss of the Konoha landmark.
-------
Making Hyuuga Hinata squirm used to be easy. Now, her default reaction to nearly everything unpleasant, uncomfortable, or embarrassing was to freeze in place, which wasn't nearly as interesting. This was the talent that earned the rather color-bleached heiress her reputation as an icy, emotionless woman. Truth be told, she was keeping as quiet as a mouse in hopes she would not be noticed, and perhaps, it worked. Not once did any of the three mednin apprentices look to her direction; they seemed to find the squeaky tiled floor far too riveting to look elsewhere.
Haruno Sakura once said that everything about her was pretty much average, excepting the width of her forehead. Hinata disagreed because she thought the other girl could be quite beautiful when she made the effort, and she knew Sakura was quite known for her smarts. Her unique coloring, as well as her petite size, made her seem delicate, particularly nowadays, as she often dwelt in a solemn, academic mind frame. Ironically, it belied the fact she was known for her monstrous strength as much as her skills as mednin. Hinata had not really seen her in action, not in years, but for sure, Sakura had changed as much as the Hyuuga girl had.
. . . It was still disconcerting for Hinata. To see the mednin with arms akimbo, screeching at her students about first investigating in their local neighborhood before gallivanting off to exotic places, was a surreal experience. "'Coz this ain't the effect of some outlandish blood limit jutsu from the other side of the world," she barked with an accompanying sneer that would have put Neji-nii to shame. "I'll tell you what this is, one word: SEPSIS!" And what the hell were they thinking, she had all but screamed. They were supposed to be ninjas! First day as genins, they were supposed to know to look underneath the underneath, not randomly pick the first convenient diagnosis that crossed their way. She kicked the door shut after a firm warning to not bother her unless for an emergency.
As soon as the door closed, Sakura immediately shifted gears. Hinata had to scramble to keep up, but she realized quickly that the mednin was talking to her now, for the tenor of Sakura's voice had changed to her usual amiable one. "I know this isn't the most appropriate place to do this," she said. "But see, in classic Haruno-style escapism, I've taken too much on my plate, and I don't really have much free time aside from the occasional nap and lunch break."
The pink-haired woman removed her white lab coat, paused to think, and seemed to decide on putting it back on unbuttoned. She flopped onto the empty chair in front of Hinata, instead of behind Shizune’s desk.
"Hinata-chan," she said after taking a deep breath. "Let's break up."
Hinata goggled at her earnest green eyes, warmth rushing furiously to her cheeks. In turn, Sakura stared back at her stupidly in the stymied silence, mirroring the confused expression on the other's face.
"Wait," she backtracked abruptly. "What?"
"S-sakura-san," Hinata stammered. "I don't think you mean what you meant exactly--"
"Right." The mednin threw an arm out in empathic protest. "That-that came out wrong," she squeaked, her eyes squished shut in mortification. "Let me rephrase!"
"Please," was the equally embarrassed response. Hinata nervously smoothed a crease on her plain blue skirt as she waited for the other to regroup.
"Okay." Sakura tried again. "Okay. . . I don't think we should be Clique buddies anymore."
There was a silence as this sunk in.
I don't understand, Hinata wanted to say.
But then the mednin rephrased it a third time. It came out a little bluntly, but there was no misconstruing what she said.
"I don't want to be Clique buddies anymore."
Sakura-san didn’t want to be Clique buddies anymore? Hinata echoed . But they were getting along so well! It didn’t seem like Sakura disliked it. It didn’t seem like Hinata was the only one finding comfort in their company, the only one happy. . .
Finally, Hinata did speak, "I am so sorry, Sakura-san."
"Oh yeah?" The mednin's face was unfathomable. She didn't release Hinata with an answering bow, merely looked on as the other girl continued speaking, still with her head lowered.
"I haven't been much of a Clique buddy. I'm just too fixated with a lot of things at home. I realize it's a lame excuse, but I will change and give more effort to being there, as Ino-san says we should."
"Hinata." Sakura grabbed the girl by the shoulder and straightened her. "Hinata, please. It's not you." Hinata did straighten---Sakura-san was too strong to resist. "Well, it is you, but it's not something you can help."
It’s not something she can help? The words halted Hinata’s self-recriminating thoughts. What was it then? Had she somehow given offense to the mednin, but whatever it was would not be addressed to her face because she was far too fragile for such a confrontation? This again. . . Hinata decided then that she had enough of euphemisms. "This is about Sasuke-san, isn't it?" she said more sharply than she intended. "Naruto-kun said---"
"Naruto really needs to mind his own damned business," came the hot response. "Listen, there's nothing between me and Sasuke. Absolutely nothing! It shouldn't matter to you what I feel or think, and I have no right to influence you in anyway whatsoever. Understand?"
"I don't believe you, Sakura-san," the younger girl was quieter, seemed to retreat into herself. "Why then do you want to stop being friends with me?"
"Did I say that?" the other cried almost despairingly. "That sounds so grade school! That's not what I meant to---"
"It equates to more or less that."
"I suppose so," Sakura unhappily agreed. "Let me explain why, at least."
Hinata didn't say anything so Sakura went on.
"I am this sort of woman," Sakura began, taking on the pedantic tones of a teacher. "When certain features, details, in my life become seemingly immutable, I become complacent and get into habits and expect things to not change. That just doesn't work on people. Now, I can learn virtually anything, if I put in enough effort, but I'd need time, space, and clinical detachment. And I want so much to be your friend that. . . that I know I will somehow find a way to use this friendship against you. I don't want it to ever reach that stage, so I am taking preventative actions."
"By cutting me out of the picture."
"No, cutting me out! I don't want to hate you over something so childish as a habit. And well, I feel like such a hypocrite being friends with you but resenting you in secret. It’s not fair to either of us, is it?"
"Why does it seem like you want my blessing to end this so badly?" Hinata asked, her words clipped. “Will you feel better if I tell you it’s okay to hate me, Sakura-san, when you don’t even think enough of me to frankly tell me why?”
Sakura inhaled sharply but did not have an answer ready.
"You've contradicted yourself so much. I don't know what to take away from this conversation, anymore."
"You can take away two things," Sakura said firmly, looking at her with a set jaw and clear eyes. "First, when you weigh your options, please subtract me and Naruto from the equation; we are variables that don’t belong there. Second, please consider Uchiha Sasuke as fairly as you would any other suitor presented to you.”
Hinata stared at her for what seemed like an hour, her white eyes unreadable and, in effect, quite fierce.
"You didn’t have to tell me that; I have already resolved to take things seriously," she said finally, sadly. "But if it would assuage your guilt, I give you my word. I will do as you say. Just. . ."
"Just?"
"I won't snub you in the hallways or streets or anything like that."
Sakura nodded. "We have fictions to maintain after all," she agreed. "Thank you. Thank you, Hinata-chan."
"I'll take my leave."
"There's one last thing, please." She handed the dark-haired woman a basket of scrolls and a couple of jars. "And it's not like I won't help you anymore, so please, if there’s anything you need at all . . ."
"If I may ask?"
"Ah, I got you those bath salts weeks ago, but I never got around to giving them to you. They're aromatherapy stuff that works quite well, actually, and the others are recipes you asked from before."
"Thank you, Sakura-san," Hinata said with a final, formal bow. “Goodbye."
“Y-yes. Take care of yourself.”
In the end, it was the icy, emotionless woman of widespread fame that stepped out of Shizune’s office.
----
Konoha Hospital’s lobby was busy as usual, filled to brimming with both ninja and civilians. Few people lingered, of course. The civilians knew better than to clog up the entrance and were quick to attend to their business and then go home. Those that came to bring in injured comrades either retreated further into private waiting rooms or left for the mission offices for debriefing.
Neji ensconced himself at a wooden bench on one corner of the lobby, where he could easily see everybody walking out from the hospital’s labyrinthine mess of halls. What kept him occupied while he waited for his charge, aside from the steady throbbing of his head, was the repeated recalling of a certain conversation he had very early today.
“Hullo,” the odd greeting had come. Odd for its brevity, for brevity was not one of Rock Lee’s outstanding characteristics, odd because Neji didn’t expect him to be giving it in the first place.
“She sent you.” Neji didn’t say it as a question, but it was.
“I come of my own accord,” Lee said, looking straight ahead into the opaque darkness of midnight. He was perched on their tree, which while not quite stately, was well above the Hyuuga’s line of sight. “You could say I’ve taken it upon myself to champion another’s cause.”
“And this cause, I assume, has to do with her complicated love life.” Neji automatically lapsed to their established code.
“Funny you say that,” Lee said, his round eyes now focused, unflinching, on his old friend. “Even our dear mutual friend has trouble admitting as much.”
Neji waited to hear more before reacting, knowing that his reaction would likely not be in kind, to give his old team mate the benefit of doubt.
“She insists she’s fine,” Lee continued. “I disagree, of course. She’s may think she’s okay right now, but what happens when she’s finally fed up? She’ll overflow, and violently, too, I’d reckon. That’ll be a waste of energy and emotion, hating you even though she won’t really mean it. Gai-sensei did always say one of the most intangible foes of blessed youth is the near constant miasma of negativity we encounter in our daily operations. We ignore it, take it for granted. . . Mayhaps, propagate it ourselves?”
Neji’s expression blanked, as if his earlier one wasn’t stern enough already. Lee had broken the very code he invented. Granted, no passerby would have understood what they were talking about, anyway, (granted, there was no passerby out and about that time of night, period,) Neji was more unhappy about it being deliberate as opposed to an accidental lapse.
“As immensely as I respect you, comrade and rival, I find myself at a bind.” Lee continued to speak frankly. “I wouldn’t have imagined you capable of such unkindness till I saw it with my own eyes. Not that I ever doubted Tenten---her sense of honor remains acute and her esteem of self adequate---but I can’t think you foolish enough to not know what you’re doing. What do you think?”
“You do not want to know what I’m thinking,” came the flat response.
“You’re probably right.” Lee sighed. “Then I’ll take it as a chance to explain my harsh words.”
“Do.”
“It’s not fair to her, you know.”
“Skip to the explanations, please.”
“As you wish." Lee remained quite serene, despite Neji's increasing glibness. "Both you and I know that Tenten will do anything you ask. She will not stand the dishonor of failing your challenge. . . even at the expense of others’ regard of her character. Why, then, do you keep asking her to do not only the merely dangerous but also the simply impossible? The matter of Hinata-chan being pressured to marry Sasuke-san is very unfortunate, but it’s hardly something you should use Tenten for----certainly not something for her to infiltrate the secrets of the village government itself at the risk of no less than a treason charge!
“In fact, I will say this only once. It is ungentlemanly of you to take advantage of her in this manner. I will turn my eyes away this instance, but I do solemnly swear on the honor of our esteemable teacher, that such another maltreatment of our mutual friend and I shall take it as a grave, personal offense!”
“Are you done?” Neji asked levelly, but not after a profound pause.
“Just a message from her, Neji-kun: she wants you to pay your respects to your kinswoman, Oli Mau. Should she be reticent, a seance might not be amiss. She might become too loquacious then, but if you pass her rambles through the right channel, her words might have merit.”
They parted without Neji expressing his violent thoughts. There were many retorts that quickly formed in his mind while Rock Lee served his sermon. They were many cruel and swift returns that would be a potent slap to his comrade’s idealistic face.
“And you,” was what he wanted to say most. “Why then are you helping Tenten? Once Sasuke is safely married off to Hinata-sama, wouldn’t that eliminate your greatest rival in love?”
Perhaps, it was the same immense regard that Rock Lee had spoken of that had stilled Neji’s tongue. In the end, Neji had resisted a petty argument and lost a free arm for his trouble. Hinata-sama, fortuitously, had an engagement with her taciturn suitor at the crack of dawn, who Neji trusted now to protect his charge----at the very least, to keep his pride as the ninja of his caliber. Neji had taken this as opportunity to do as Tenten instructed and had hiked to Oli Mau’s remote dwelling place.
Neji did not like what he saw there. Never mind reticent---Oli Mau had already given up her secrets to somebody else.
Was it Tenten’s idea of a joke? Tenten of late had been becoming increasingly intractable. To Lee’s point, she was free to refuse anything Neji had asked, and it wasn’t as if she did any of it for free. It was an equally profitable arrangement they had kept for years. He was at her disposal now; she was free to ask him anything in return, as they had not established a price beforehand. If anything, he was at a disadvantage. Should Tenten ask him to, say, assassinate some high-ranking official for her, he would be obliged to do so. This was the nature of their years-old barter. For Lee to suggest that he had somehow entrapped Tenten into this. . .
Neji’s furious thoughts were interrupted by the unusually brisk stride of his cousin. He looked outside to the skies out of habit, instead of the large clock that hung over the information desk: Hinata-sama was an hour early. Meetings with Haruno Sakura usually ended with his cousin skipping home like a giddy little school girl. In a less irritated frame of mind, Neji would simply file this away to the back of his mind. Today, however, he had to contend with a constant compulsion to vituperate people. He wouldn’t go as far as blaming the failed reconnaissance mission this morning, but that was a conscious choice so as to not end up killing a certain green-garbed jounin who gave him compromised data.
The Hyuuga genius has been told as a child that his migraines were genetic and were triggered by his use of the Byakkugan. He was dead certain that wasn’t the case today.
“You’re ahead of schedule,” he said, unnecessarily stating the obvious, another thing he didn’t usually do. “Well?”
“Neji-nii,” Hinata-sama said, uncharacteristically curt. “If anything I’m doing is an inconvenience to you, will you tell me what to do to remedy the situation before you decide to cut ties with me?”
Her cousin merely looked at her, as if to say that was a given, even though he wasn’t supposed to have such a freedom as tell the Hyuuga heiress what to do.
“I know you’re not prone to overreacting,” she continued. “But everybody else seems to be doing that.”
Neji almost burst out laughing. Murder, he thought ironically, would be the ultimate overreaction and he had been so close to committing one.
“Anyway, we should take lunch now," Hinata-sama said, unusually decisive. "I have a meeting with the Hokage at one o'clock and another with Sasuke-san at two-thirty. We can visit the village library in the interim. Is that convenient for you, niisan?"
"You should have me carry your basket, Hinata-sama," he said sardonically. "Lest you stress your wrist."
Hinata acquiesced, absently depositing the basket on the bench he was sitting on. "Bath salts, baking recipes, and a batch of freshly-made snickerdoodles," she reported automatically. "Fairly benign items."
Baking recipes handwritten in parchment? Neji decided to be very direct at this juncture. "Should I be concerned, Hinata-sama?"
"Hm?"
"Regarding Sakura-san."
"Sakura-san?" she echoed, rather inattentively. "What about her? I won't be meeting her again. It's that simple."
Neji decided he need to be even more direct. "Is she a threat to your safety?"
"Threat?" Hinata blinked, as if returning to her senses. "To my safety? Of course not!" She paused. ". . . she seemed convince she could be?"
"You doubt her capacity?"
"Yes, but then, she didn't explain herself in depth enough for me to understand what the nature of the problem between us is." Hinata-sama's brow furrowed; she was more disconcerted now, rather than affronted. "It feels like even she is trying to protect me."
"I doubt it."
"Do you suspect even her, niisan?" Hinata asked, voice hitching slightly with the emotions she barely managed to keep at bay.
"As Hanabi-sama had said, the problem lies with not suspecting anybody at all." Neji said, as he looked through Sakura's gift basket. "May I?" He was referring to the scrolls.
"Of course."
Neji unfurled one of the scrolls to quickly scan its contents. While he was not prone to melodramatic declarations either, it did suspiciously like feel his heart had lurched to a full stop. Hinata-sama, of course, had not bothered to look through the contents and therefore had no idea what the hell she had just so casually carried in her innocuous little basket. . . or the trouble she would have landed with the ANBU, should they have been exposed.
The Hyuuga genius calmly rolled the document and neatly returned it to where it was lodged between two jars. "Hinata-sama," he said. "If I may ask a boon?"
"Yes, Neji-nii."
"This." He held up the basket.
"...well." She looked like---how did Tenten say it---a puppy kicked in the face. "I s-suppose. But the snickerdoodles a-and the bath salts and call it sentimental but--"
"I'll return them once I get what I need from the scrolls."
"Oh. Oh, I see. That's fine then." Did it even occur to her to question why he needed to borrow the entire thing?
And because he was accused of having little sensitivity to women's needs... "Lunch at the Crossings," he suggested.
"Huh?"
"The Uchiha will want to have tea when you meet later. A light meal now should tide you over till then."
His charge merely nodded and followed him wordlessly.
Wow, we've really been dormant here in dormant muses, haven't we?
Chapter 18 (part 1 of 2)
Series: Naruto
Characters: Neji, Hinata, Sakura
Konohagakure no Sato was conveniently tucked in a sprawling valley that was overrun by gigantic trees that were at least hundreds, if not thousands, of years old. Most of its population was centered around the dense village, but there were naturally a few citizens who preferred to live in more private circumstances, avoiding the hustle and bustle that ultimately originated from the Hokage’s office. Other than the larger, more extensive estates of older, more affluent families, there were also a few people, most of whom had retired from the stressful life of ninja, who opted to live in the outskirts of town, like hermits. They lived unobtrusively in easily sustainable homes, carefully hidden from the general populace’s attention.
The hut of old Oli Mau was one of such private domiciles. It was not so much as invisible as unappealing; it sat precariously at the side of a mountain face, as if ready to boot out its inhabitants to a grim death. (And not just any mountain face---it was in an as yet unoccupied area of the Hokage monument.) Call it a ledge, an outcropping, it was nothing more than a slab of stone jutting out from the sharp, near-vertical slope that even plants avoided. It made the house look eternally wind-blown, which in turn explained the house’s running reputation as the most haunted place in Konoha.
It was four walls and a roof, easily built, easily destroyed-perhaps, perhaps not. It didn’t seem so on casual observation, but it was all made of wood. The wood was what made the room seem as ageless and immutable as the rock it was built upon (or rather, the rock the ledge was connected to) The living space, and it was all it was, for all intents and purpose, was tiny but organized. The floor was divided into two. One side was packed dirt, while the other was covered with woven, dried grass. Against one corner was a blanket and a pillow. On another corner was a chest of simple and well-worn clothes, along with an assortment of knickknacks that spoke of a long, involved life. A sack of flour, a slab of cured meat, a jar of water, a stack of firewood. . . all sat on a third corner. On the fourth was a writing desk.
Let it never be said that Hyuuga Neji was anything less than attentive to his dead relatives and comrades. Tradition dictated he follow a ceremonial cult of death, and he went through the motions without fail. Everyday, he visited his parents altar, lit a stick of incense or two, and said a short prayer. It did not, however, imply that he had any particular belief about life after death. Neji had a rather pragmatic view of things: any semblance of existence after death was something to be discovered once dead.
In spite of himself, he had considerable misgivings about being where he was, and it was all due to the influence of a certain somebody’s vague insinuations. The man’s vivacious pontificating was at its most convoluted today, so much that Neji entertained the notion that Lee was actually doing it on purpose, that his loquacious teammate was actually trying to irritate him into a seizure.
Neji was pretty damn close to one.
It wasn’t blind trust that prompted him to do Rock Lee’s bidding. More than ten years of working with the man, had better equipped Neji to deal with the taijutsu specialist’s idiosyncracies. At face value, Rock Lee’s ideas were often so out there----and just outright campy----that normal people found it easier to laugh him off instead of try to understand him. Neji, however, was not “normal,” (and didn’t really have the capacity to laugh things off.) He learned that Rock Lee’s brand of reasoning often made sense with merely a slight readjustment of perspective, the same way an Academy student might realign the lens of an out-of-focus microscope till it clicked in place.
This time, Neji couldn’t summon enough patience to ruminate on such things. He simply avoided the added aggravation of rationalizing Lee's behavior, knowing he might regret it if he succumbed to the anger, and simply brought with him what he was told to bring.
A flask of spring water was tied to his belt. A handful of cold ashes, swept from the family altar last night was inside a folded white envelope, sealed with watered-down rice. Splinters from the foundation of the ancient house of Hyuuga were nestled in the current matriarch’s-he had to settle with Hinata-sama’s----handkerchief and tucked carefully within the folds of his obi. He even came in the prescribed formal yukata he wore the last O-bon festival and a pair of mourning gi he hadn’t worn since he was seventeen. Last but not least, he brought Hanabi’s ceremonial dagger, only one of the symbols that testified to the Branch house’s servitude.
Neji sat on the dirt-floor part of the room, as the tatami mats were fraying, prone to fire, and a little too fragrant to get used to. He began.
“Earth.”
Using himself as the center, he carved a circle on the packed earth with the dagger. The blade, he stuck in front him, hilt-deep.
“Fire.”
He lit two candles. The one of tallow sputtered as soon as the flame licked its wick, coughing out a thick coil of black smoke and an unpleasant smell. The one of soy burned clear and strong. Each went inside the circle, one behind him, the other in front.
“Water.”
He poured the spring water onto a wooden bowl he picked up from the dirty kitchen outside and set it beside the pungent candle.
“Hearth.”
He scattered the splinters to his right.
“Ashes.”
He blew those to his left.
“Dust.”
This was not dust at all. It was his own hair, efficiently snipped at the tips with the evidently razor-sharp dagger he drew from the soil. These he flicked in front him, an odd piece instantly singed by the stuttering tongue of fire, a sharp note to the general malodor.
“Blood.”
He stopped short at blood, feeling the ridiculousness of it all as keenly as the tip of the dagger that nicked his finger. (He was just asking for an infection, wasn’t he, innoculating his fingers with some dead woman’s bacteria. ) He sucked on his bleeding finger instead, spat out the blood, and swallowed the oaths that rose to his mouth in lieu of incantations.
Lee was not very specific when he told his team mate to conduct a seance in the eccentric, former med-nin’s house. A few well-chosen inquiries and the efficient research of a man who had practically lived days in the family library made Neji fairly versed on Hyuuga-style exorcism. Exorcisms and seances had a key difference, of course. The former supposedly drove away spirits, and from his old comrade’s instructions, Neji was supposed to make contact with them.
It was all Neji could come up with on short notice. Besides, the deceased owner of the house had some Hyuuga blood in her; she was a third cousin, thrice removed, according to the clan records. She was the specialist the Hyuuga mednins consulted, when in need of more experienced advice. Hyuuga were far too dignified to positively respond to an ejection, rejection, call it whatever.
Now, the above information, about both this certain mednin's Hyuuga blood and role, was not public knowledge. It was the result of Tenten’s investigation, and thus, the indirect result of the colossal snit Neji had been unable to totally expunge from his system since midnight.
Not wishing to be known thereafter as an arsonist and pyromaniac, Neji managed to resist kicking the now guttering candle in front of him. The wooden bowl was not so lucky, hurling against the far wall with deadly force. The sturdy container survived unscathed, but the wall earned a jagged hole that exposed a hollowing in the thick slab of hardwood. Underneath it was a chest of mementos. And underneath that chest was a crack on the rock itself. In that crack was lodged a wooden box that wasn’t likely to contain jewelry.
Neji began to feel a little more forgiving towards Lee’s decidedly cryptic instructions as he unearthed Oli Mau’s clandestine little hope box. The assortment of scrolls inside, ranging from crisp like new to yellowing and aged, were obviously what he was meant to find here---very delicate information the obscure mednin had accumulated over her long life.
The result of Tenten’s dangerous investigation was in his hands. However, it was evident that somebody, who had been there before him, had taken the choicer cuts of the meat. Whether that person simply had more skills in fraternizing with ghosts, he wasn’t sure, but he meant to find out who it was and what exactly about the obscure Oli Mau was interesting enough to make that someone break the same rules he just did.
Another annoying thing about his excursion was this: despite Neji's exacting attempts to not decimate the rancid hovel in his profound irritation, the ledge decided to give way just as he stepped off it. It was bound to happen, of course, the dictations of physics, geology, and all that. Nobody in the village would really be surprised to see it gone.
And see, Neji himself wasn't the slightest bit sorry over the loss of the Konoha landmark.
-------
Making Hyuuga Hinata squirm used to be easy. Now, her default reaction to nearly everything unpleasant, uncomfortable, or embarrassing was to freeze in place, which wasn't nearly as interesting. This was the talent that earned the rather color-bleached heiress her reputation as an icy, emotionless woman. Truth be told, she was keeping as quiet as a mouse in hopes she would not be noticed, and perhaps, it worked. Not once did any of the three mednin apprentices look to her direction; they seemed to find the squeaky tiled floor far too riveting to look elsewhere.
Haruno Sakura once said that everything about her was pretty much average, excepting the width of her forehead. Hinata disagreed because she thought the other girl could be quite beautiful when she made the effort, and she knew Sakura was quite known for her smarts. Her unique coloring, as well as her petite size, made her seem delicate, particularly nowadays, as she often dwelt in a solemn, academic mind frame. Ironically, it belied the fact she was known for her monstrous strength as much as her skills as mednin. Hinata had not really seen her in action, not in years, but for sure, Sakura had changed as much as the Hyuuga girl had.
. . . It was still disconcerting for Hinata. To see the mednin with arms akimbo, screeching at her students about first investigating in their local neighborhood before gallivanting off to exotic places, was a surreal experience. "'Coz this ain't the effect of some outlandish blood limit jutsu from the other side of the world," she barked with an accompanying sneer that would have put Neji-nii to shame. "I'll tell you what this is, one word: SEPSIS!" And what the hell were they thinking, she had all but screamed. They were supposed to be ninjas! First day as genins, they were supposed to know to look underneath the underneath, not randomly pick the first convenient diagnosis that crossed their way. She kicked the door shut after a firm warning to not bother her unless for an emergency.
As soon as the door closed, Sakura immediately shifted gears. Hinata had to scramble to keep up, but she realized quickly that the mednin was talking to her now, for the tenor of Sakura's voice had changed to her usual amiable one. "I know this isn't the most appropriate place to do this," she said. "But see, in classic Haruno-style escapism, I've taken too much on my plate, and I don't really have much free time aside from the occasional nap and lunch break."
The pink-haired woman removed her white lab coat, paused to think, and seemed to decide on putting it back on unbuttoned. She flopped onto the empty chair in front of Hinata, instead of behind Shizune’s desk.
"Hinata-chan," she said after taking a deep breath. "Let's break up."
Hinata goggled at her earnest green eyes, warmth rushing furiously to her cheeks. In turn, Sakura stared back at her stupidly in the stymied silence, mirroring the confused expression on the other's face.
"Wait," she backtracked abruptly. "What?"
"S-sakura-san," Hinata stammered. "I don't think you mean what you meant exactly--"
"Right." The mednin threw an arm out in empathic protest. "That-that came out wrong," she squeaked, her eyes squished shut in mortification. "Let me rephrase!"
"Please," was the equally embarrassed response. Hinata nervously smoothed a crease on her plain blue skirt as she waited for the other to regroup.
"Okay." Sakura tried again. "Okay. . . I don't think we should be Clique buddies anymore."
There was a silence as this sunk in.
I don't understand, Hinata wanted to say.
But then the mednin rephrased it a third time. It came out a little bluntly, but there was no misconstruing what she said.
"I don't want to be Clique buddies anymore."
Sakura-san didn’t want to be Clique buddies anymore? Hinata echoed . But they were getting along so well! It didn’t seem like Sakura disliked it. It didn’t seem like Hinata was the only one finding comfort in their company, the only one happy. . .
Finally, Hinata did speak, "I am so sorry, Sakura-san."
"Oh yeah?" The mednin's face was unfathomable. She didn't release Hinata with an answering bow, merely looked on as the other girl continued speaking, still with her head lowered.
"I haven't been much of a Clique buddy. I'm just too fixated with a lot of things at home. I realize it's a lame excuse, but I will change and give more effort to being there, as Ino-san says we should."
"Hinata." Sakura grabbed the girl by the shoulder and straightened her. "Hinata, please. It's not you." Hinata did straighten---Sakura-san was too strong to resist. "Well, it is you, but it's not something you can help."
It’s not something she can help? The words halted Hinata’s self-recriminating thoughts. What was it then? Had she somehow given offense to the mednin, but whatever it was would not be addressed to her face because she was far too fragile for such a confrontation? This again. . . Hinata decided then that she had enough of euphemisms. "This is about Sasuke-san, isn't it?" she said more sharply than she intended. "Naruto-kun said---"
"Naruto really needs to mind his own damned business," came the hot response. "Listen, there's nothing between me and Sasuke. Absolutely nothing! It shouldn't matter to you what I feel or think, and I have no right to influence you in anyway whatsoever. Understand?"
"I don't believe you, Sakura-san," the younger girl was quieter, seemed to retreat into herself. "Why then do you want to stop being friends with me?"
"Did I say that?" the other cried almost despairingly. "That sounds so grade school! That's not what I meant to---"
"It equates to more or less that."
"I suppose so," Sakura unhappily agreed. "Let me explain why, at least."
Hinata didn't say anything so Sakura went on.
"I am this sort of woman," Sakura began, taking on the pedantic tones of a teacher. "When certain features, details, in my life become seemingly immutable, I become complacent and get into habits and expect things to not change. That just doesn't work on people. Now, I can learn virtually anything, if I put in enough effort, but I'd need time, space, and clinical detachment. And I want so much to be your friend that. . . that I know I will somehow find a way to use this friendship against you. I don't want it to ever reach that stage, so I am taking preventative actions."
"By cutting me out of the picture."
"No, cutting me out! I don't want to hate you over something so childish as a habit. And well, I feel like such a hypocrite being friends with you but resenting you in secret. It’s not fair to either of us, is it?"
"Why does it seem like you want my blessing to end this so badly?" Hinata asked, her words clipped. “Will you feel better if I tell you it’s okay to hate me, Sakura-san, when you don’t even think enough of me to frankly tell me why?”
Sakura inhaled sharply but did not have an answer ready.
"You've contradicted yourself so much. I don't know what to take away from this conversation, anymore."
"You can take away two things," Sakura said firmly, looking at her with a set jaw and clear eyes. "First, when you weigh your options, please subtract me and Naruto from the equation; we are variables that don’t belong there. Second, please consider Uchiha Sasuke as fairly as you would any other suitor presented to you.”
Hinata stared at her for what seemed like an hour, her white eyes unreadable and, in effect, quite fierce.
"You didn’t have to tell me that; I have already resolved to take things seriously," she said finally, sadly. "But if it would assuage your guilt, I give you my word. I will do as you say. Just. . ."
"Just?"
"I won't snub you in the hallways or streets or anything like that."
Sakura nodded. "We have fictions to maintain after all," she agreed. "Thank you. Thank you, Hinata-chan."
"I'll take my leave."
"There's one last thing, please." She handed the dark-haired woman a basket of scrolls and a couple of jars. "And it's not like I won't help you anymore, so please, if there’s anything you need at all . . ."
"If I may ask?"
"Ah, I got you those bath salts weeks ago, but I never got around to giving them to you. They're aromatherapy stuff that works quite well, actually, and the others are recipes you asked from before."
"Thank you, Sakura-san," Hinata said with a final, formal bow. “Goodbye."
“Y-yes. Take care of yourself.”
In the end, it was the icy, emotionless woman of widespread fame that stepped out of Shizune’s office.
----
Konoha Hospital’s lobby was busy as usual, filled to brimming with both ninja and civilians. Few people lingered, of course. The civilians knew better than to clog up the entrance and were quick to attend to their business and then go home. Those that came to bring in injured comrades either retreated further into private waiting rooms or left for the mission offices for debriefing.
Neji ensconced himself at a wooden bench on one corner of the lobby, where he could easily see everybody walking out from the hospital’s labyrinthine mess of halls. What kept him occupied while he waited for his charge, aside from the steady throbbing of his head, was the repeated recalling of a certain conversation he had very early today.
“Hullo,” the odd greeting had come. Odd for its brevity, for brevity was not one of Rock Lee’s outstanding characteristics, odd because Neji didn’t expect him to be giving it in the first place.
“She sent you.” Neji didn’t say it as a question, but it was.
“I come of my own accord,” Lee said, looking straight ahead into the opaque darkness of midnight. He was perched on their tree, which while not quite stately, was well above the Hyuuga’s line of sight. “You could say I’ve taken it upon myself to champion another’s cause.”
“And this cause, I assume, has to do with her complicated love life.” Neji automatically lapsed to their established code.
“Funny you say that,” Lee said, his round eyes now focused, unflinching, on his old friend. “Even our dear mutual friend has trouble admitting as much.”
Neji waited to hear more before reacting, knowing that his reaction would likely not be in kind, to give his old team mate the benefit of doubt.
“She insists she’s fine,” Lee continued. “I disagree, of course. She’s may think she’s okay right now, but what happens when she’s finally fed up? She’ll overflow, and violently, too, I’d reckon. That’ll be a waste of energy and emotion, hating you even though she won’t really mean it. Gai-sensei did always say one of the most intangible foes of blessed youth is the near constant miasma of negativity we encounter in our daily operations. We ignore it, take it for granted. . . Mayhaps, propagate it ourselves?”
Neji’s expression blanked, as if his earlier one wasn’t stern enough already. Lee had broken the very code he invented. Granted, no passerby would have understood what they were talking about, anyway, (granted, there was no passerby out and about that time of night, period,) Neji was more unhappy about it being deliberate as opposed to an accidental lapse.
“As immensely as I respect you, comrade and rival, I find myself at a bind.” Lee continued to speak frankly. “I wouldn’t have imagined you capable of such unkindness till I saw it with my own eyes. Not that I ever doubted Tenten---her sense of honor remains acute and her esteem of self adequate---but I can’t think you foolish enough to not know what you’re doing. What do you think?”
“You do not want to know what I’m thinking,” came the flat response.
“You’re probably right.” Lee sighed. “Then I’ll take it as a chance to explain my harsh words.”
“Do.”
“It’s not fair to her, you know.”
“Skip to the explanations, please.”
“As you wish." Lee remained quite serene, despite Neji's increasing glibness. "Both you and I know that Tenten will do anything you ask. She will not stand the dishonor of failing your challenge. . . even at the expense of others’ regard of her character. Why, then, do you keep asking her to do not only the merely dangerous but also the simply impossible? The matter of Hinata-chan being pressured to marry Sasuke-san is very unfortunate, but it’s hardly something you should use Tenten for----certainly not something for her to infiltrate the secrets of the village government itself at the risk of no less than a treason charge!
“In fact, I will say this only once. It is ungentlemanly of you to take advantage of her in this manner. I will turn my eyes away this instance, but I do solemnly swear on the honor of our esteemable teacher, that such another maltreatment of our mutual friend and I shall take it as a grave, personal offense!”
“Are you done?” Neji asked levelly, but not after a profound pause.
“Just a message from her, Neji-kun: she wants you to pay your respects to your kinswoman, Oli Mau. Should she be reticent, a seance might not be amiss. She might become too loquacious then, but if you pass her rambles through the right channel, her words might have merit.”
They parted without Neji expressing his violent thoughts. There were many retorts that quickly formed in his mind while Rock Lee served his sermon. They were many cruel and swift returns that would be a potent slap to his comrade’s idealistic face.
“And you,” was what he wanted to say most. “Why then are you helping Tenten? Once Sasuke is safely married off to Hinata-sama, wouldn’t that eliminate your greatest rival in love?”
Perhaps, it was the same immense regard that Rock Lee had spoken of that had stilled Neji’s tongue. In the end, Neji had resisted a petty argument and lost a free arm for his trouble. Hinata-sama, fortuitously, had an engagement with her taciturn suitor at the crack of dawn, who Neji trusted now to protect his charge----at the very least, to keep his pride as the ninja of his caliber. Neji had taken this as opportunity to do as Tenten instructed and had hiked to Oli Mau’s remote dwelling place.
Neji did not like what he saw there. Never mind reticent---Oli Mau had already given up her secrets to somebody else.
Was it Tenten’s idea of a joke? Tenten of late had been becoming increasingly intractable. To Lee’s point, she was free to refuse anything Neji had asked, and it wasn’t as if she did any of it for free. It was an equally profitable arrangement they had kept for years. He was at her disposal now; she was free to ask him anything in return, as they had not established a price beforehand. If anything, he was at a disadvantage. Should Tenten ask him to, say, assassinate some high-ranking official for her, he would be obliged to do so. This was the nature of their years-old barter. For Lee to suggest that he had somehow entrapped Tenten into this. . .
Neji’s furious thoughts were interrupted by the unusually brisk stride of his cousin. He looked outside to the skies out of habit, instead of the large clock that hung over the information desk: Hinata-sama was an hour early. Meetings with Haruno Sakura usually ended with his cousin skipping home like a giddy little school girl. In a less irritated frame of mind, Neji would simply file this away to the back of his mind. Today, however, he had to contend with a constant compulsion to vituperate people. He wouldn’t go as far as blaming the failed reconnaissance mission this morning, but that was a conscious choice so as to not end up killing a certain green-garbed jounin who gave him compromised data.
The Hyuuga genius has been told as a child that his migraines were genetic and were triggered by his use of the Byakkugan. He was dead certain that wasn’t the case today.
“You’re ahead of schedule,” he said, unnecessarily stating the obvious, another thing he didn’t usually do. “Well?”
“Neji-nii,” Hinata-sama said, uncharacteristically curt. “If anything I’m doing is an inconvenience to you, will you tell me what to do to remedy the situation before you decide to cut ties with me?”
Her cousin merely looked at her, as if to say that was a given, even though he wasn’t supposed to have such a freedom as tell the Hyuuga heiress what to do.
“I know you’re not prone to overreacting,” she continued. “But everybody else seems to be doing that.”
Neji almost burst out laughing. Murder, he thought ironically, would be the ultimate overreaction and he had been so close to committing one.
“Anyway, we should take lunch now," Hinata-sama said, unusually decisive. "I have a meeting with the Hokage at one o'clock and another with Sasuke-san at two-thirty. We can visit the village library in the interim. Is that convenient for you, niisan?"
"You should have me carry your basket, Hinata-sama," he said sardonically. "Lest you stress your wrist."
Hinata acquiesced, absently depositing the basket on the bench he was sitting on. "Bath salts, baking recipes, and a batch of freshly-made snickerdoodles," she reported automatically. "Fairly benign items."
Baking recipes handwritten in parchment? Neji decided to be very direct at this juncture. "Should I be concerned, Hinata-sama?"
"Hm?"
"Regarding Sakura-san."
"Sakura-san?" she echoed, rather inattentively. "What about her? I won't be meeting her again. It's that simple."
Neji decided he need to be even more direct. "Is she a threat to your safety?"
"Threat?" Hinata blinked, as if returning to her senses. "To my safety? Of course not!" She paused. ". . . she seemed convince she could be?"
"You doubt her capacity?"
"Yes, but then, she didn't explain herself in depth enough for me to understand what the nature of the problem between us is." Hinata-sama's brow furrowed; she was more disconcerted now, rather than affronted. "It feels like even she is trying to protect me."
"I doubt it."
"Do you suspect even her, niisan?" Hinata asked, voice hitching slightly with the emotions she barely managed to keep at bay.
"As Hanabi-sama had said, the problem lies with not suspecting anybody at all." Neji said, as he looked through Sakura's gift basket. "May I?" He was referring to the scrolls.
"Of course."
Neji unfurled one of the scrolls to quickly scan its contents. While he was not prone to melodramatic declarations either, it did suspiciously like feel his heart had lurched to a full stop. Hinata-sama, of course, had not bothered to look through the contents and therefore had no idea what the hell she had just so casually carried in her innocuous little basket. . . or the trouble she would have landed with the ANBU, should they have been exposed.
The Hyuuga genius calmly rolled the document and neatly returned it to where it was lodged between two jars. "Hinata-sama," he said. "If I may ask a boon?"
"Yes, Neji-nii."
"This." He held up the basket.
"...well." She looked like---how did Tenten say it---a puppy kicked in the face. "I s-suppose. But the snickerdoodles a-and the bath salts and call it sentimental but--"
"I'll return them once I get what I need from the scrolls."
"Oh. Oh, I see. That's fine then." Did it even occur to her to question why he needed to borrow the entire thing?
And because he was accused of having little sensitivity to women's needs... "Lunch at the Crossings," he suggested.
"Huh?"
"The Uchiha will want to have tea when you meet later. A light meal now should tide you over till then."
His charge merely nodded and followed him wordlessly.
Wow, we've really been dormant here in dormant muses, haven't we?