Fanfic: ADROS - Chapter 2
Yah, another update. Will eventually X-post these things up onto Chuunin, but for now here's ch. 2 of ADROS, that I never got a chance to post up in here.
Title: A Darkened Ray of Sunshine (ADROS)
Rating: PG-13, but eventually R due to content.
Genre: Romance, Drama.
Pairing: NejiHina
Hyuuga Neji sighed, opening blank white eyes to stare at the ceiling above him. He stretched one arm above his head, wincing slightly at the pull of sore muscles, and snagged the red cord that snaked across the tatami floor. Giving the cord a pull, he felt the resistance of an object attached to the other end, ears registering the slight scraping sounds as he pulled it towards him. Letting go of the cord, he stretched his fingers further, feeling smooth ceramic underneath his calloused fingertips. Clenching the digits around the smooth edge, he picked up the white mask and held it in front of him, alabaster-pale eyes tracing the red lines painted onto the mimicry of a bird’s face. Ironic, in a way, the mask they had chosen for him. The caged bird hiding his face behind the image of that same bird. Truthfully, the mask he wore lent more clues to his identity then anything else about his person. At least, here in Konoha it did. Outside of the village he called his home, there were no persons who knew of the harsh fate that those born into the Hyuuga Bunke lived with.
He smirked, the harsh lines of his face drawn into something midway between a smirk and a scowl as he tossed the mask away from him, watching it skitter across the floor, spinning around into the corner, red strings spiraling after it like long red centipedes scuttling after their prey. With a sigh, he replaced his hand behind his head, fingers interlacing with the other hand that already rested there. It had been a difficult mission this time, and the ANBU had been needed for a longer amount of time then originally planned. Not that Neji minded. The 19-year old ANBU captain found solace in the work, an escape from the destiny that clawed at his heels with every breath. Out there, he wasn’t Bunke, forcibly subservient to a weaker cousin. Out there, he was Hyuuga Neji, captain of the ANBU squad and prodigy of a prestigious clan. Out there, he could forget.
He pulled his hands out from behind his head and pushed himself up off of the tatami, grimacing as the offending shoulder muscles persisted in their complaint as to the treatment they had endured. He rotated the shoulder carefully, shinobi senses calmly and analytically finding the source of the pain. A strained rotator cuff, on the medial side. Nothing that he had the skills to fix, so he would have to consult with the Hyuuga medic-nin in the morning. Or perhaps Hinata-sama. The second thought caused a sour expression to mar his handsome features. Hinata-sama. The one who held the keys to his cage. She’d likely try to heal him, stuttering and trying to apologize for something as simple as breathing. Slipping out of the white armour that proclaimed his status as captain, he peeled off the black sleeveless top that was standard uniform, tossing it aside to land in a heap beside the discarded mask. Brushing an errant strand of chocolate-brown hair from his white eyes, he allowed his thoughts to drift to the cousin who held his fate in the palm of her small hand.
He’d seen her after dinner as she headed back to her room, but had made no move to acknowledge or speak to her. She’d been walking away from him, but he could tell by the way that her stance changed that she knew he was there. Neji knew she was afraid of him, though it seemed that over the last few years she had begun to either ignore it or put it aside to a degree. He didn’t really know, and neither did he care to a great extent which one it was. Regardless, she no longer flinched around him unless he spoke harshly to her, and Hinata-sama flinched when anyone spoke harshly to her.
She’s so weak, yet she holds such power over me. It truly must be my fate, because nothing else would condone such an abject abandonment of the natural order of things. Strength dominates weakness, those with strength rule over those without. But not here…
There was something else that Neji could tell from her gait and her stance. Though she did a rather good job of hiding it, he could see stiffness in her upper body, a hesitance in her frame that he recognized from years of training and being subjected to the same ailment. He frowned slightly at the thought, though the Hyuuga prodigy was slightly unsure as to why.
Likely Hiashi-sama beat her again. I would have thought that one so weak would know better then to incite his wrath towards her. Though I can’t help but wonder what Hinata-sama would have done to anger him. She has always been nauseatingly shy and timid and she hardly seems the sort to have the courage to do anything. She should know better. It is her fate to be weak, so why does she attempt to fight it so?
It grated on his nerves the way his timid little cousin cowered so, the way that she always tried to escape her fate. And then when she was punished for it, she didn’t fight back, didn’t attempt to argue. Simply stood there and took the beating, took the harsh words. It infuriated him. She was so…so… placid. Not at all possessing of the manner and bearing that someone of the illustrious Hyuuga clan should be proud to display. An utter and abject failure. Neji scowled, raking a hand through dark hair, the simple motion dislodging the strips of bandage that covered his branded forehead, revealing the green marking of the juuin. His pearl-white eyes studied the strips of cloth, their presence distracting him from the portion of his mind that always seemed to argue with him when he thought about Hinata-sama. The part that whispered to him, reminding him of the warmth he had felt for her as a child, and that dared to allude to a deeper reasoning why he felt anger at the knowledge that she had simply let her father beat her. He ruthlessly crushed the voice in the back of his mind, refusing to acknowledge the tendrils of memories that threatened to swamp him. No, he didn’t have those sorts of dreams or thoughts. Not about anyone, and certainly NOT about her.
Besides…one or two dreams like that don’t mean anything. Everyone has them, even about people they don’t like, sometimes.
With an angry sigh, he rolled over and flicked the light switch, not even bothering to change out of the remnants of his uniform. Not that it mattered. He would simply be donning a new one in the morning. He stretched his arms over his head before relaxing and letting the familiar rhythm of sleep overtake his exhausted body, hoping that this time his dreams would not contain dark hair, pale eyes, and silvery laughter.
The mirror stared back at her as Hinata stood in front of it, studying her reflection. She had discarded the flowing robes and monochromatic lines of the Hyuuga robes in favor of even more monotony in the form of a pair of soft black pants bandaged at the ankles paired with a sleek black long-sleeved shirt with a mesh insert at the neck. On her back, she carried a simple black duffel bag.
Light… Have to pack light, so that I can move quickly. If Father finds out before I’m gone…
She shuddered at the thought of what her father would do when he learned that she had vanished. Or rather, when he learned that an unsealed pair of Byakugan had left Konohagakure in the middle of the night. The kunoichi frowned at that thought. She had no remaining illusions as to the feelings her paternal parent harboured for her. No wasted dreams and childish ideals about how he really loved her and just didn’t know how to show it. No, she knew how he felt. She was nothing to him. Nothing but a failure; a waste of his DNA and Konohagakure’s space, and an unsealed pair of Byakugan. And that was another thing; the juuin, that Neji wore through so much pain. Hinata knew perfectly well that the only reason her younger sister had not been subjected to the cage of the juuin was her own repeated failures as heir to the Hyuuga. While the juuin could be removed once cast, it was a difficult procedure that required not only a large amount of chakra, but also for the shinobi doing the removal to have absolutely precise chakra control. The sort of precise control that she knew very well her father did not possess. Which meant that to remove the juuin, it was a fairly draining ordeal for him. Not something he’d risk without being certain. Thus, it made no sense to mark a member of the Hyuuga who was very likely going to become its next heir, as the current heir was so… pathetic.
She scowled, turning away from the mirror and it’s memories and feeling the heavy weight of her long hair swing slightly with her movements. Letting her chin drop, she reached over one shoulder, tentatively fingering the midnight-hued strands. Forget…that was what she had to do. Forget her feelings, forget her emotions, and forget everything that her life here stood for. And start anew somewhere else. The line of her mouth fixed itself into a firm slash as pale fingers closed around the ponytail like the coils of a snake around its prey. Translucent lids slid shut over pale orbs as she lifted the dark waterfall out of the way, bringing her other hand up to meet it’s mate. There was the faintest sound and a flash of steel as the kunai sliced cleanly through the strands, then silence. Hinata let her hands drop, the kunai impacting with the tatami mats with a soft thud. Long strands of sinewy darkness slid from between clenched fingers, pooling on the floor like a puddle of ink, ends splaying out across the fibers of the floor. She raised her head, sparing one last glance in her mirror before she turned and softly slid the door open, heading out into the hall as she shouldered the duffel bag on her slight form.
Her pale skin and luminous eyes stood out in stark contrast to the dark shades of her clothing. In the dimly-lit hallway, her dark-clad form was a mere whisper of shadow and motion as she moved, carefully controlling her movements to allow not one whisper of sound to escape as she stole into the library and placed the final things into the bag. Pausing in her endeavors, she held up one scroll, luminescent eyes hardening as she read the characters emblazoned on the label. Fingertips clenched tightly around it for a moment before she slipped it into the bag along with the other knowledge she had stolen. Though, in truth, it couldn’t really be considered stealing if you were merely taking copies. It was unlikely that the loss of a few copied scrolls would even be noticed, much less worried about, during the uproar that was sure to arise once the departure of the clan heir was discovered. She brushed an errant strand of hair out of her face and glanced around carefully, alert for any motion as the wooden door slid closed behind her, continuing down the narrow pathway towards the exit, and an uncertain future.
As she passed the hallways leading to the section of the estate that housed the Bunke, she could feel her feet begin to slow, soft footsteps coming to a stop as she reached the door. Mind whirling, she turned away, taking another step further away from the one place she wanted more then anything to spend her time. But something pulled her back. She sighed, turning back to the offending door and fixing it with a glare that seemed to lack any real animosity. Instead, it was tinged with a lingering sadness, that of someone who has finally given up their fight and acquiesced to defeat.
One more time…I…I suppose it can’t hurt… Especially since it’ll be the last time…ever.
Dragging a deep breath of air into her lungs, she gingerly reached for the door, sliding it open with a practiced stealth and slipping into the blackness beyond. Shifting the sack on her shoulder, she walked the hallways of the Bunke sector with a strange sort of automated step. She had walked these halls before, many more times then she knew most of her family realized. Her feet led her, independent of mind or heart, bringing the girl unerringly to the one room that she wanted to both run to and run from at the same time. Alabaster eyes stared blankly at the polished wood and the thin rice paper squares that joined the lacquered pieces of ebony together into their familiar geometric pattern. One shaking hand reached forward, fingertips curling into the indention at the edge of the door, grasping familiar handholds and sliding the lightweight structure aside. She watched as the shaft of faint illumination from the opened door slid with steady grace across the floor to rest momentarily on the sleeping face before it’s light was stifled by the shogi-pane as she slid it shut again. Taking a moment to allow her eyes to adjust, she held her breath and suppressed her chakra carefully as she padded over to the futon. Dropping down slowly to her knees, she sat perfectly still, paper-white eyes tracing over the features she had grown to cherish.
He looked different like this. Asleep, the lines of tension that so-often marred his handsome features were erased from him as if they’d never been there. His face was peaceful, at rest, remniscent of the carefree little boy that he’d once been. She reached out a hand as if to brush the long dark hair from his face, but pulled back before her skin could meet his. The girl shook her head slightly, as if in silent admonishment of what she’d been about to do. No, she knew better then to touch him. The fact that she was able to sneak in and watch him this way in itself was amazing to her. A trained shinobi, an ANBU captain at that, by all rights he ought to have had her pinned to the floor with an arm behind her back from the moment her fingertips touched the door. But for some reason, he never awoke when she came to him like this. The Hyuuga scion had never questioned it, and simply took it as a felicitous turn of fortune that she was able to steal even just this small bit of closeness.
Not that he’d let me get this close if he were awake, after all. He’d push me away, spurn me with coldness and harsh words. Like he always does. But not anymore… No, there won’t be any more ice and cold fire. Because I won’t be coming here at night anymore, will I, Neji-niisan? No not nii-san; Neji-kun. Even though I can’t ever call you that with my real voice, it’s what I think of you as. My Neji-kun.
She sat there for several minutes, pale-hued eyes watching the slow rise and fall of his bare chest as he slept, vision moving over the tracery of muscles and scars that had, over time indeterminable, become a pattern that she could trace in her sleep had she been asked to. Biting her bottom lip, she carefully got to her feet, walking silently around to the other side of the futon and sitting down. As carefully as she could, Hinata slid over next to him, resting on top of the blankets, the barest fraction of space separating his back from her body. She stared at his back, watching the muscles shift slightly with his breathing. Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward slightly to rest her forehead against the spot directly between his shoulderblades, closing her eyes with a small sigh as she felt herself relax. THIS was her guilty pleasure, the secret that she kept even more well-guarded then that of her feelings. She relished this, coveted it as the only form of intimacy she would likely ever have with the object of her affections, and on those nights when she had dared to take the chance, it had been difficult to tear herself away before she stayed long enough to outlast the charm that always seemed to magically keep Neji’s sleep peaceful and undisturbed while she was there. It was also difficult to resist the urge to mold her body to his, to wrap her arms around him and pull him close to her, but she didn’t dare broach the mere inch of space that separated them. That inch was safety. It was a barrier between what she desired and what she could have. Backing up slowly, she sat up and spared one last longing glance at Neji’s face before she stood up and slipped out of the room and into the night.
Sayonara…Neji-kun…
Enjoy, the other chapter, then hopefully Ch4 (which I'm about to finish) will be coming soon.
Title: A Darkened Ray of Sunshine (ADROS)
Rating: PG-13, but eventually R due to content.
Genre: Romance, Drama.
Pairing: NejiHina
Hyuuga Neji sighed, opening blank white eyes to stare at the ceiling above him. He stretched one arm above his head, wincing slightly at the pull of sore muscles, and snagged the red cord that snaked across the tatami floor. Giving the cord a pull, he felt the resistance of an object attached to the other end, ears registering the slight scraping sounds as he pulled it towards him. Letting go of the cord, he stretched his fingers further, feeling smooth ceramic underneath his calloused fingertips. Clenching the digits around the smooth edge, he picked up the white mask and held it in front of him, alabaster-pale eyes tracing the red lines painted onto the mimicry of a bird’s face. Ironic, in a way, the mask they had chosen for him. The caged bird hiding his face behind the image of that same bird. Truthfully, the mask he wore lent more clues to his identity then anything else about his person. At least, here in Konoha it did. Outside of the village he called his home, there were no persons who knew of the harsh fate that those born into the Hyuuga Bunke lived with.
He smirked, the harsh lines of his face drawn into something midway between a smirk and a scowl as he tossed the mask away from him, watching it skitter across the floor, spinning around into the corner, red strings spiraling after it like long red centipedes scuttling after their prey. With a sigh, he replaced his hand behind his head, fingers interlacing with the other hand that already rested there. It had been a difficult mission this time, and the ANBU had been needed for a longer amount of time then originally planned. Not that Neji minded. The 19-year old ANBU captain found solace in the work, an escape from the destiny that clawed at his heels with every breath. Out there, he wasn’t Bunke, forcibly subservient to a weaker cousin. Out there, he was Hyuuga Neji, captain of the ANBU squad and prodigy of a prestigious clan. Out there, he could forget.
He pulled his hands out from behind his head and pushed himself up off of the tatami, grimacing as the offending shoulder muscles persisted in their complaint as to the treatment they had endured. He rotated the shoulder carefully, shinobi senses calmly and analytically finding the source of the pain. A strained rotator cuff, on the medial side. Nothing that he had the skills to fix, so he would have to consult with the Hyuuga medic-nin in the morning. Or perhaps Hinata-sama. The second thought caused a sour expression to mar his handsome features. Hinata-sama. The one who held the keys to his cage. She’d likely try to heal him, stuttering and trying to apologize for something as simple as breathing. Slipping out of the white armour that proclaimed his status as captain, he peeled off the black sleeveless top that was standard uniform, tossing it aside to land in a heap beside the discarded mask. Brushing an errant strand of chocolate-brown hair from his white eyes, he allowed his thoughts to drift to the cousin who held his fate in the palm of her small hand.
He’d seen her after dinner as she headed back to her room, but had made no move to acknowledge or speak to her. She’d been walking away from him, but he could tell by the way that her stance changed that she knew he was there. Neji knew she was afraid of him, though it seemed that over the last few years she had begun to either ignore it or put it aside to a degree. He didn’t really know, and neither did he care to a great extent which one it was. Regardless, she no longer flinched around him unless he spoke harshly to her, and Hinata-sama flinched when anyone spoke harshly to her.
She’s so weak, yet she holds such power over me. It truly must be my fate, because nothing else would condone such an abject abandonment of the natural order of things. Strength dominates weakness, those with strength rule over those without. But not here…
There was something else that Neji could tell from her gait and her stance. Though she did a rather good job of hiding it, he could see stiffness in her upper body, a hesitance in her frame that he recognized from years of training and being subjected to the same ailment. He frowned slightly at the thought, though the Hyuuga prodigy was slightly unsure as to why.
Likely Hiashi-sama beat her again. I would have thought that one so weak would know better then to incite his wrath towards her. Though I can’t help but wonder what Hinata-sama would have done to anger him. She has always been nauseatingly shy and timid and she hardly seems the sort to have the courage to do anything. She should know better. It is her fate to be weak, so why does she attempt to fight it so?
It grated on his nerves the way his timid little cousin cowered so, the way that she always tried to escape her fate. And then when she was punished for it, she didn’t fight back, didn’t attempt to argue. Simply stood there and took the beating, took the harsh words. It infuriated him. She was so…so… placid. Not at all possessing of the manner and bearing that someone of the illustrious Hyuuga clan should be proud to display. An utter and abject failure. Neji scowled, raking a hand through dark hair, the simple motion dislodging the strips of bandage that covered his branded forehead, revealing the green marking of the juuin. His pearl-white eyes studied the strips of cloth, their presence distracting him from the portion of his mind that always seemed to argue with him when he thought about Hinata-sama. The part that whispered to him, reminding him of the warmth he had felt for her as a child, and that dared to allude to a deeper reasoning why he felt anger at the knowledge that she had simply let her father beat her. He ruthlessly crushed the voice in the back of his mind, refusing to acknowledge the tendrils of memories that threatened to swamp him. No, he didn’t have those sorts of dreams or thoughts. Not about anyone, and certainly NOT about her.
Besides…one or two dreams like that don’t mean anything. Everyone has them, even about people they don’t like, sometimes.
With an angry sigh, he rolled over and flicked the light switch, not even bothering to change out of the remnants of his uniform. Not that it mattered. He would simply be donning a new one in the morning. He stretched his arms over his head before relaxing and letting the familiar rhythm of sleep overtake his exhausted body, hoping that this time his dreams would not contain dark hair, pale eyes, and silvery laughter.
The mirror stared back at her as Hinata stood in front of it, studying her reflection. She had discarded the flowing robes and monochromatic lines of the Hyuuga robes in favor of even more monotony in the form of a pair of soft black pants bandaged at the ankles paired with a sleek black long-sleeved shirt with a mesh insert at the neck. On her back, she carried a simple black duffel bag.
Light… Have to pack light, so that I can move quickly. If Father finds out before I’m gone…
She shuddered at the thought of what her father would do when he learned that she had vanished. Or rather, when he learned that an unsealed pair of Byakugan had left Konohagakure in the middle of the night. The kunoichi frowned at that thought. She had no remaining illusions as to the feelings her paternal parent harboured for her. No wasted dreams and childish ideals about how he really loved her and just didn’t know how to show it. No, she knew how he felt. She was nothing to him. Nothing but a failure; a waste of his DNA and Konohagakure’s space, and an unsealed pair of Byakugan. And that was another thing; the juuin, that Neji wore through so much pain. Hinata knew perfectly well that the only reason her younger sister had not been subjected to the cage of the juuin was her own repeated failures as heir to the Hyuuga. While the juuin could be removed once cast, it was a difficult procedure that required not only a large amount of chakra, but also for the shinobi doing the removal to have absolutely precise chakra control. The sort of precise control that she knew very well her father did not possess. Which meant that to remove the juuin, it was a fairly draining ordeal for him. Not something he’d risk without being certain. Thus, it made no sense to mark a member of the Hyuuga who was very likely going to become its next heir, as the current heir was so… pathetic.
She scowled, turning away from the mirror and it’s memories and feeling the heavy weight of her long hair swing slightly with her movements. Letting her chin drop, she reached over one shoulder, tentatively fingering the midnight-hued strands. Forget…that was what she had to do. Forget her feelings, forget her emotions, and forget everything that her life here stood for. And start anew somewhere else. The line of her mouth fixed itself into a firm slash as pale fingers closed around the ponytail like the coils of a snake around its prey. Translucent lids slid shut over pale orbs as she lifted the dark waterfall out of the way, bringing her other hand up to meet it’s mate. There was the faintest sound and a flash of steel as the kunai sliced cleanly through the strands, then silence. Hinata let her hands drop, the kunai impacting with the tatami mats with a soft thud. Long strands of sinewy darkness slid from between clenched fingers, pooling on the floor like a puddle of ink, ends splaying out across the fibers of the floor. She raised her head, sparing one last glance in her mirror before she turned and softly slid the door open, heading out into the hall as she shouldered the duffel bag on her slight form.
Her pale skin and luminous eyes stood out in stark contrast to the dark shades of her clothing. In the dimly-lit hallway, her dark-clad form was a mere whisper of shadow and motion as she moved, carefully controlling her movements to allow not one whisper of sound to escape as she stole into the library and placed the final things into the bag. Pausing in her endeavors, she held up one scroll, luminescent eyes hardening as she read the characters emblazoned on the label. Fingertips clenched tightly around it for a moment before she slipped it into the bag along with the other knowledge she had stolen. Though, in truth, it couldn’t really be considered stealing if you were merely taking copies. It was unlikely that the loss of a few copied scrolls would even be noticed, much less worried about, during the uproar that was sure to arise once the departure of the clan heir was discovered. She brushed an errant strand of hair out of her face and glanced around carefully, alert for any motion as the wooden door slid closed behind her, continuing down the narrow pathway towards the exit, and an uncertain future.
As she passed the hallways leading to the section of the estate that housed the Bunke, she could feel her feet begin to slow, soft footsteps coming to a stop as she reached the door. Mind whirling, she turned away, taking another step further away from the one place she wanted more then anything to spend her time. But something pulled her back. She sighed, turning back to the offending door and fixing it with a glare that seemed to lack any real animosity. Instead, it was tinged with a lingering sadness, that of someone who has finally given up their fight and acquiesced to defeat.
One more time…I…I suppose it can’t hurt… Especially since it’ll be the last time…ever.
Dragging a deep breath of air into her lungs, she gingerly reached for the door, sliding it open with a practiced stealth and slipping into the blackness beyond. Shifting the sack on her shoulder, she walked the hallways of the Bunke sector with a strange sort of automated step. She had walked these halls before, many more times then she knew most of her family realized. Her feet led her, independent of mind or heart, bringing the girl unerringly to the one room that she wanted to both run to and run from at the same time. Alabaster eyes stared blankly at the polished wood and the thin rice paper squares that joined the lacquered pieces of ebony together into their familiar geometric pattern. One shaking hand reached forward, fingertips curling into the indention at the edge of the door, grasping familiar handholds and sliding the lightweight structure aside. She watched as the shaft of faint illumination from the opened door slid with steady grace across the floor to rest momentarily on the sleeping face before it’s light was stifled by the shogi-pane as she slid it shut again. Taking a moment to allow her eyes to adjust, she held her breath and suppressed her chakra carefully as she padded over to the futon. Dropping down slowly to her knees, she sat perfectly still, paper-white eyes tracing over the features she had grown to cherish.
He looked different like this. Asleep, the lines of tension that so-often marred his handsome features were erased from him as if they’d never been there. His face was peaceful, at rest, remniscent of the carefree little boy that he’d once been. She reached out a hand as if to brush the long dark hair from his face, but pulled back before her skin could meet his. The girl shook her head slightly, as if in silent admonishment of what she’d been about to do. No, she knew better then to touch him. The fact that she was able to sneak in and watch him this way in itself was amazing to her. A trained shinobi, an ANBU captain at that, by all rights he ought to have had her pinned to the floor with an arm behind her back from the moment her fingertips touched the door. But for some reason, he never awoke when she came to him like this. The Hyuuga scion had never questioned it, and simply took it as a felicitous turn of fortune that she was able to steal even just this small bit of closeness.
Not that he’d let me get this close if he were awake, after all. He’d push me away, spurn me with coldness and harsh words. Like he always does. But not anymore… No, there won’t be any more ice and cold fire. Because I won’t be coming here at night anymore, will I, Neji-niisan? No not nii-san; Neji-kun. Even though I can’t ever call you that with my real voice, it’s what I think of you as. My Neji-kun.
She sat there for several minutes, pale-hued eyes watching the slow rise and fall of his bare chest as he slept, vision moving over the tracery of muscles and scars that had, over time indeterminable, become a pattern that she could trace in her sleep had she been asked to. Biting her bottom lip, she carefully got to her feet, walking silently around to the other side of the futon and sitting down. As carefully as she could, Hinata slid over next to him, resting on top of the blankets, the barest fraction of space separating his back from her body. She stared at his back, watching the muscles shift slightly with his breathing. Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward slightly to rest her forehead against the spot directly between his shoulderblades, closing her eyes with a small sigh as she felt herself relax. THIS was her guilty pleasure, the secret that she kept even more well-guarded then that of her feelings. She relished this, coveted it as the only form of intimacy she would likely ever have with the object of her affections, and on those nights when she had dared to take the chance, it had been difficult to tear herself away before she stayed long enough to outlast the charm that always seemed to magically keep Neji’s sleep peaceful and undisturbed while she was there. It was also difficult to resist the urge to mold her body to his, to wrap her arms around him and pull him close to her, but she didn’t dare broach the mere inch of space that separated them. That inch was safety. It was a barrier between what she desired and what she could have. Backing up slowly, she sat up and spared one last longing glance at Neji’s face before she stood up and slipped out of the room and into the night.
Sayonara…Neji-kun…
Enjoy, the other chapter, then hopefully Ch4 (which I'm about to finish) will be coming soon.