Chapter Text
It happened so quickly he thought he dreamed it, really. His feet carried themselves. He saw the stakes coming and he made the mental calculation of what would hit who when and where. The battlefield smelled like dirt and sweat, waste and death. The sky was overcast. He really didn’t think about it, so much so that momentarily he thought he was under the influence of a jutsu. He blinked and he was there, arms spread wide to catch every last splinter. The impact knocked the breath out of him before he could even register the fear and the pain. With the pain, came the warmth, all over him, being leeched out of his extremities.
Why did I do that? he thought, bewildered at himself.
His forehead itched. It had been so used to being covered that the prospect of it being bare felt alien. His vision was blurry – Why couldn’t he see? Why couldn’t he see? Someone was saying his name; someone was holding him, dragging him, and he wanted to sleep; the pain, the pain, the pain, but worse, he couldn’t move at all, he couldn’t breathe. He choked on something warm and metallic and it came dribbling over his lips and running down his chin.
I’m dying, he thought, matter-of-factly.
His chest- he could feel searing pain and nothing at all. He couldn’t even crane his neck to look. Something came into his line of sight – Hinata-sama? She better not die after all the trouble he went through to keep her alive. Why did he do it? A flash of bright blond- Naruto. Right? He wasn’t sure. His mind felt weak. He’d never felt this tired in his life. Choke, choke again. He wanted to speak. He wanted to move his arms. He wanted to stand up on his own two feet and die like a man. This is so stupid. He wanted someone to hold his hand. Couldn’t someone just hold his hand as he died?
I want to talk to Tenten, he thought. She’d have known what he wanted; he wouldn’t have had to tell her. He wanted so desperately to talk to her. Did he say goodbye to her? Did he thank her for putting up with him for so long? He wanted to tell her things he’d always hesitated to say. He wanted to apologize.
Someone was shouting and it was hurting his ears.
Just lay me down and let me die, he thought. He was scared. He wanted it over. He hurt. He couldn’t breathe. I want my father.
He wanted to see him so badly. He wanted to talk to him, to lean against him, to be comforted by him in his last moments, but he had no father anymore, did he? He was going to die like this, without him.
He was so cold, and then suddenly he was enveloped by warmth. Someone was hugging him- no, someone was picking him up, cradling him against their chest. He hadn’t been carried like that in so long. He inched his stinging eyes open. His vision was failing. Darkness was creeping around the edges and it was all blurry and wrong. He was being carried like the boy he never got to be.
“Father?” he cough-whispered. He recognized that silhouette, that face. He really was dying, but he felt peaceful now. At least he could have something. At least his father was here. At least he wasn’t alone.
Something gleamed on his father’s cheeks. “Rest, child.”
He closed his eyes, and he did just that.
Was he dreaming? He didn’t remember how he’d gotten here. The sky was so clear. The trees cast a checkered shade on the soft forest floor. The cool air smelled like summer flowers.
He was in a tree, balanced high on a branch. No chakra- his hands gripped the trunk of the tree in a vice. He could see another tree right across from him, and for some reason, he understood he had to jump to it.
His father was below him, seated on the ground, kindly gazing up at him. He seemed more at peace than Neji ever remembered. He was dressed in all white, flowing robes, his dark hair falling against his shoulders, never to gray. The worry lines that had always been on his face were still there, but they were less severe.
“Come on, Neji,” he encouraged gently, and some part in the back of Neji’s mind painfully registered its closeness to memory. “You can do it. Make the jump.”
Neji felt a cold wave of fear, alien in such a peaceful environment, in the company of someone he had always felt safe with.
“I’m scared, Father,” he found himself saying. “I don’t want to.”
His father shook his head, smiling. “It’s alright, child. I’ll catch you if you fall. There is nothing to fear.”
“I want to come down and stay with you,” he said weakly. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” his father said. “But you can’t come down yet. Take your time, but you have to make the jump.”
He missed training with his father so much. He’d loved training with him. He’d missed the proud shine in his eyes, the way it had been just the two of them, quiet afternoons spent learning and laughing. He didn’t want to jump. He wanted to go back, to when things were happy and safe. “I’ll leave you behind.”
“What about everyone else?” his father coaxed. “I’m right here. I always will be. Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” Neji said, without hesitation.
“Spread your arms,” his father instructed over the sound of distant birdcalls. “Bend your knees.”
He followed his father’s orders, creeping, inch by inch, to the edge of the branch. It barely seemed to bend beneath his weight.
“I love you.”
Neji leaped. For a second, he fell, suspended in midair, and he looked down. His shadow, with its outstretched arms, was silhouetted against the ground. It looked like a soaring bird.
He came to in fits and starts. The first thing he registered was the sounds – a steadily beeping machine, the slight rustle of fabric, someone’s deep, regular exhales, and his own shallow, papery breaths. Then he could feel things; warmth, from the sheets drawn up to his chest; a slight breeze, soft pillows, and a mattress at his back. His arms and legs felt curiously numb, but his chest ached dully, with that telltale fuzziness that spoke of a heavy painkiller, and tight, so tight- bandages, he’d been bandaged. Someone was holding his hand, but the grip was slack. The person’s hands were rough and callused, and he could feel a frayed bandage against one finger. Every few seconds a puff of warm air would hit his forearm.
His eyes, held down by some invisible weight, struggled open. At first, he saw nothing but light. They struggled to adjust. He blinked slowly, not sure what he was seeing. He was in a bed. Someone was asleep, their head resting by their entwined hands. It seemed like it took ages for his sight to adjust even a little. He could make out shapes, just barely. He wasn’t at home. He was in a hospital room. There were bandages wound tightly over his chest. His whole body felt heavy. His hand twitched; he wanted to rub his eyes, wanted to see clearly.
He forced his mouth open and gulped down some air. His throat was so parched. He wanted someone to turn off that machine; it was interfering with his train of thought. He could smell something else now, something familiar: practical, clean-smelling perfume, dissipating into the air. He looked at the shape bent over by his hand. That hair was brown, right? Brown hair.
He choked on his own spit and then coughed. The person suddenly gripped his hand. I know that feeling. The person jerked up and her face came into focus.
“Neji?” her voice was so weirdly hesitant. It was unlike her.
“Ten…ten.” That was all he could muster. He was frustrated. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to ask where he was. He wanted to tell her about his father. He wanted to say that she was beautiful with the sunlight haloed against her, and that he’d always liked the way her bangs framed her face. All he could give her was a cough.
“You’re awake,” she said in a whisper. She pushed a strand of hair away from his face, cupping his cheek, before seeming to jolt into understanding. “You’re awake!” She straightened.
“S-Sakura!” she yell-stuttered. Tenten didn’t stutter, as a rule. Maybe Neji was dreaming. “He’s awake!” She kept yelling for Sakura and looking back at him like she was afraid he’d disappear. He heard, in the distance, thundering footsteps, and felt suddenly exhausted.
His eyes began to slide closed again; it was too much effort to keep them open.
“Hey,” Tenten said, leaning down, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, stay with me, Neji. Don’t fly away.”
He couldn’t. He opened his mouth again. He wanted to say something, anything. He wanted to say that he’d missed her.
He registered a flash of pink in the distance, and someone talking, talking. He sank into unconsciousness once more.
Over the next week, he had longer and longer periods of lucidity. Apparently, immediately after he’d fallen unconscious again, Tenten had been assigned a week-long mission, so he did not see her. Lee, in the meantime, visited almost every day, enthusiastically filling him in on the three months he’d spent comatose in a hospital bed as Sakura stitched his entire chest cavity back together. Kakashi rolled Gai-sensei in on his wheelchair, who proceeded to cry for several hours. Shikamaru came in and quietly smoked cigarettes until Sakura chased him out with murder in her eyes. Hanabi scurried in with a vase of sunflowers and a cheeky smile.
Naruto and Hinata came in together at some point. Naruto was also missing an arm, which, for some inscrutable, messed up reason, Neji found unbearably funny.
“You should probably get that looked at,” he said drily, nodding in the direction of the missing limb. Hinata burst into tears.
Well. He felt kind of bad, seeing her cry like that.
“Don’t cry, Hinata-sama,” he grumbled, feeling thirteen again, watching Naruto pat her on the back.
“I’m sorry,” she said, sniffling and wiping her tears with the heel of her hand. He fought that deeply ingrained instinct in him to tell her to straighten her posture, toughen up, stop crying. “I’m just- I’m so relieved that you’re alive. I didn’t know how I’d live with myself if-” She stopped herself.
“I made my choice,” he said quietly. In truth, he really didn’t know. His memory was so hazy from the coma. Lee had given him a detailed rundown of what happened, but Neji still couldn’t really remember making that choice, jumping to save her.
He couldn’t rationalize it. Could he? All he could remember was that he’d seen his father, or maybe he’d imagined it- but no, it felt so real. He didn’t know who to ask about it. This was making him feel unsettled, and Hinata was still crying.
“Don’t make it weird, Hinata-sama,” he finally said, like the insensitive little ingrate he was. She was crying for him. She was relieved for him. It was proof that she loved him and cared about him- have a little tact, he could hear Tenten scold.
Hinata gave a watery laugh. “Okay, I won’t.”
“Consider it payback from when-” he took a second to cough. “We were kids.”
At his cough, Hinata and Naruto shared an ominous look, like they knew something he didn’t.
“I’m fine,” Neji insisted. “Sakura says I’ll be doing that for a while.”
For some reason, Hinata looked even more fragile then, guilt filling her eyes like tears. He didn’t get it.
“People get injured,” he said defensively. His pride stung at being pitied. I did this for you, he wanted to scream. The least you could do is let me deal with the consequences! Who was he mad at? He was so confused.
“Of course,” Naruto finally said, uncharacteristically restrained. “Man, what an injury, huh? Stopped my heart for a second there. I really thought you were gone, Neji. It messed me up.”
Did it “mess Hiashi-sama up” when my father died? he thought suddenly, feeling sick. I would have died for Naruto and Hinata-sama. What does that say about my fate? About who I am? What I stand for? I’m a fool.
His uncle hadn’t even come to visit him. Hanabi hadn’t even brought him up, when she’d come to put sunflowers on his side-table and play with his hair. Was his life worth that little to him? As little as his father’s? What would happen when he was discharged? Would they return to business as usual, with no acknowledgement of the enormity of what had happened?
I didn’t do this to curry favor from him, Neji thought. Even if he couldn’t remember his exact thought process at the time, he knew for certain that his uncle had not been a factor in his protection of Hinata. He hadn’t been, for a long time.
“I care about you, Hinata,” he finally said, letting himself say her name without the honorific. To hell with it. “You’re…my sister. At this point. I did what a brother would do.” To hell with the system. Their fathers were twins. She was his sister, wasn’t she? This was what brothers did for sisters. Right? He was so confused.
She hugged him, still crying a little, and he let her, even though he felt so, so tired and he kind of wanted her to go away, for everyone to go away. His younger self would have been so angry.
Sister? He could see his younger self scoff. Yes, she’s your sister, alright. So where is the brand on her forehead? Where is her father, and where is yours?
She and Naruto stayed until visitors’ hours were over. In a gesture of gross favoritism, Sakura allowed them exactly fifteen extra minutes. Naruto asked to speak to Neji privately; Hinata agreed to wait out in the hallway, her voice still stuffy from all the crying she’d done. Naruto had mostly been quiet throughout the visit, which was unlike him. After they were alone in the hospital room, Naruto crossed his arms – well, one arm and what remained of the other, so it was more of an implication of the gesture- and looked at the ground. Startled, Neji recognized shame when he saw it.
“I bet you think I’m full of shit now,” Naruto finally said.
“What?”
“I lectured you about destiny and free will and all that,” Naruto said. “Acted so high and mighty. And you proved me wrong.”
Neji remembered a conversation long ago, under a bright sun, when both of them were so much younger and undamaged, hashing out their troubles for everyone to see. He remembered sitting in a cot in the infirmary and watching birds silhouetted against the bright blue sky. He remembered feeling acknowledged by his uncle for the first time in his life, a feeling, he realized, that never repeated itself again. His uncle had praised him a few times, when training, had acknowledged his abilities, maybe, but as a person, Neji might as well have not been there at all.
But really, why had he taken those stakes for Hinata? Why had he been so ready to die for her when he’d spent his entire life enraged by the very idea of it?
He didn’t know what to say, really, to Naruto, so he just sighed. “You’re not full of shit. I don’t know how many times to tell you two that nobody forced me to do what I did. I wanted to.” He didn’t know anything.
“But-”
“How’d you lose the arm?” Neji asked, partially because he was curious, and partially because he desperately wanted to change the topic.
Naruto smiled a sheepish sort of smile. “I fought Sasuke.”
Neji scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Of course you did.”
“He lost an arm too, if it makes you feel any better.”
“I bet Sakura loved that.”
A laugh. “Yeah, she had a lot to say about it.” The smile faded off Naruto’s face.
“Ever since, I’ve been sort of…well. I’ve been thinking a lot about the village, about things I’ve said to my friends, about other people’s perspectives. I still want to be Hokage, but to be the Hokage I want to be, I’ve got to start being different.” He swallowed, and looked to Neji’s forehead. “This system hurt a lot of people, Neji. It hurt Sasuke. It hurt Hinata. It hurt me, and it hurt you. We have to fix it, or else the same cycle will keep going. I promise you. Just say the word, and we’ll go to the compound together, and I won’t stop until the Hyuga clan changes for good. Me and you, and Hinata-chan- we’ve talked about this. We can do it.”
Neji was seized by a sudden fondness for him. Naruto might have believed that he’d grown and changed, but he was still that optimistic boy in an orange jumpsuit, thinking everything could be solved by love and friendship and the power of a good no-nonsense motivational speech. He smiled.
“I appreciate it, Naruto,” he said, feeling bitter. Nothing ever changed. The proof was right here in this hospital bed. “Thank you.”