lucetilogs | Bittersweet Reunions [Closed]

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Bittersweet Reunions [Closed]

Who: Hyuuga Neji and Tenten
What: Tenten's got some apologies to make, and some serious conversations need to happen.
Where: Roof of the former Community House 1, now Flame House
When: 9th of November
Warnings: Nothing to start with; will add if necessary.

The wind was bitingly cold as evenng came on, but Neji barely felt it; he sat up on the roof of the apartment building he lived in, the hood of his cloak pulled around his face, the body of it wrapped around himself as well as he could manage. His eyes were open, but his gaze was unfocused, his attention turned inward. He'd managed to find an equilibrium of a sort over the last several months, but Tenten's disappearance and subsequent return had thrown everything absolutely out of balance for him.

You're not real, she'd snapped at him, and although he had a feeling she was merely operating under a mistaken assumption -- well, it didn't matter, because so many of the conclusions he'd come to on his own echoed it. Hyuuga Neji had died a short time after his eighteenth birthday; he himself was nineteen and change. And really, if you looked at it, wouldn't it make sense if he weren't Hyuuga Neji, if none of them were really who they thought they were?

And yet, he wasn't someone different from Hyuuga Neji, apart from being alive, apart from Hyuuga Neji going on quite smoothly to his death, without any visible interruption for time spent in some strange other world. He was a ghost copy, an ersatz version that had branched off into this strange other life, this other world. That made sense -- that explained why no one ever noticed someone missing, why memories of Luceti never returned, even things like scars, wounds, changes to the body would not return from Luceti. Wouldn't that make sense if there were actually no return from Luceti?

So he was not Hyuuga Neji. He was a false copy. He turned that thought over, turned over the conclusions he'd made based on it. It made him a little sick to think of, but he had to concede the possibility. Tenten was correct. Of course, that made her not the real Tenten either. Rather than considering it a tit-for-tat, he found the thought sad. An enclosure -- no, a world -- full of ghosts.

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"What other choice do I have?" he asked her back, resisting the urge to rub his throbbing cheek. Like any good member of Team Gai, Tenten hit hard "This isn't something I can fight against." Not being in Luceti, and not what awaited him when he was finally sent home. It was all outside his control, outside any ability he had to choose his own path.

But her intensity still made an impression on him. He knew how much his fate would hurt his teammates -- he'd seen Lee's pain, had seen Gai's (as veiled as it had been), and now Tenten's as well. If he could change things...

She didn't have an answer for that.

Tenten stared at him for a moment before quickly turning her gaze away, rubbing furiously at her nose. She would not cry, not in front of Neji. He deserved better than that, he deserved a teammate who would be at his side no matter what, watch his back, keep him safe. Be there to leap in the way of the spikes (though wouldn't that have cut a heroic image, everyone trying to leap in front of the spikes to save the other, because as she would try to save Neji, Lee would try to save her, and so on).

"But you don't hafta dwell on it, either," she murmured finally, a non-answer when it came down to it, but a response nonetheless.

That actually earned a quiet snort from him, derision dulled to a sort of limp, melancholy amusement. "Are you saying you wouldn't, if someone told you that you were fated to die almost immediately upon returning home?" Perhaps she wouldn't, at that -- but Neji wasn't Tenten. He was a brooder by nature, turned inward to cycle through his own thoughts over and over again.

And Luceti made it even worse, giving him too little to do to distract him. He'd tried to do it for himself, and it showed in dark circles under his eyes, in weight he'd lost since his arrival over a year ago.

"No, I wouldn't," she shot back, though even she could hear the uncertainty in her voice. How would she react? Scoffing and disbelief, fervent denial. But she wouldn't resign herself to it, not like he seemed to have.

But she'd seen it herself, hadn't she? Seen Lee close Neji's eyes, seen Neji's forehead bare, unmarked for the first time. And she took a breath, closed her eyes, drew her knees into her chest and crossed her arms atop them to bury her face in against a sudden flood of emotion.

"I wouldn't," she repeated, voice choked as she squeezed her eyes shut. Wouldn't jump in front of the spikes, wouldn't sacrifice herself so easily. She wouldn't.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye; the hood had fallen back when she hit him, leaving his peripheral vision less restricted. The despair in her posture was palpable -- a rebuke, he felt it. A rebuke for what he had not yet done, but was going to.

It isn't just that I'll die. It's that I'll kill myself.

That was the hardest part.

"I can't change it," he said quietly, an echo of her despair in his voice. "You've seen it, Lee's seen it. There is no escape."

"It shouldn't've happened in the first place." Her voice was low, bitter as she kept her face buried in her arms. If she wasn't looking at him, she could keep it together, keep herself as the strong, unflinchable one they needed her to be. Lee had broken down into tears, but she hadn't given herself that luxury. Not then, and certainly not now where Neji would be able to see it.

But it didn't mean she felt any less guilty for it, taking a deep, shuddering breath even as she tried to shunt it aside. "I should've been there. If-- if I can get back before--" before it happens, before it's too late, "I'll stop it."

It was callous and heartless, downright cruel, but if she could keep Neji from jumping out there, let Hinata take the spikes -- she'd do it.

"There isn't any before," he told her, regret coloring his voice. If she could... but in the years Luceti had existed, so far as he knew no one ever had. "You'll return to the moment you left." When it was already too late.

The future was set. If the past could not be changed, then neither could the future, because as Luceti was so vividly demonstrating, one person's future was another's past.

I was right, he told himself. All those years ago. We have our fates.

"Who says I can't return to when you left?"

What if she just -- held on, and didn't let go? Without lifting her head, she reached out blindly with one hand to sharply grab the edge of his cloak, fisting her fingers in the cloth. Let him just try to go back without her.

(Even if she didn't know how she got here in the first place. Even if, if what everyone else had been saying about her having been here before was true, it meant she wouldn't remember even if she did go back.)

"Don't underestimate me."

"I'm not underestimating you." His gaze strayed down, fixed on her fingers curled around the edge of his cloak. If anyone could pull it off simply through force of will, he'd consider her a contender. "I'm being realistic. This isn't something anyone understands -- not the how, not the why. There's no information to gather. It just happens."

Was it despair coloring his words? Probably. But it was also honest realism. There was no way he knew of for Tenten even to find out more about their unpredictable returns home, let alone return to a time before she left.

"Then you're not trying hard enough."

Her voice stayed low, determined, even as she had to take a shuddering breath to continue trying to keep herself together. She didn't let go of his sleeve, though, even as the wind bit at the fingertips left exposed by her half-gloves.

"I'll do it. Don't tell me I can't."

Because she had to fight back against the doubt, had to accept that here, Neji was real enough, but if she could get back home, with him, keep him from taking that leap... That was all she had to do, wasn't it? Not so impossible.

And then she had to swallow hard to get the rest of what she wanted to say out, fingers clutching all the harder. "I'm not losing you again."

No. Don't lose me. If only she could... If only her brave words had any possibility behind them.

Neji bowed his head again, his throat tight. "Tenten," he whispered. "Don't mock me. Don't make me hope." Because if she extended that thread to him, that possibility, then he feared it would crush him all over again. The weight that had slammed down onto him with Lee's grieving confession, the weight that had continued piling up as more and more people returned remembering him as a dead man -- he'd finally found a way to manage it, and now here was Tenten, trying to dangle some kind of glinting, glancing hope in front of him even as she joined the mass of people telling him that his fate was an abrupt death in battle.

When so many had tried and failed, including those from worlds with technology that defied imagination, that seemed to defy reality itself -- what would Tenten be able to do? What could any of them do?

"What'm I supposed to do, huh? Accept it?"

She didn't let go of his cloak, didn't lift her head even as her voice grew more and more choked, tears threatening to fall. What happened to the Neji who'd fought against fate? What happened to her teammate, why was he just willing to -- go along with this? What had this world done to him, if it really was this world at fault?

"'Cause I won't. Not ever."

Unhealthy, to be sure, but the pain was still too raw to even imagine completely moving on. It had been just hours ago for her.

He didn't have a good answer for her. What was she supposed to do -- what was he supposed to do? What could any of them do to change what had -- at least for some people -- already happened?

"What do you expect from me, Tenten?" Thick in his voice were the painful days and nights he'd spent struggling with the foreknowledge of his death, the time he'd spent battling despair and anger. The peace of mind he'd come to was fragile, composed as much as anything else of his need to pretend he didn't know, to at least imagine that he might have something approaching a normal life for the foreseeable future. "Do you want me to tell you that I hate this? Knowing that it's coming, knowing that it's happened, seeing myself as a ghost in your eyes and everyone else's? Do you want me to tell you that I'd give just about anything to change it? Because it's all true, but none of it matters. None of it will change the smallest damned thing, and I can't keep battering myself against that wall every waking moment of every day!" His voice rose as he spoke, beginning low and thick but rising until it was sharp, angry. Pained.

He knew what was coming, and he hated it. But he couldn't fight forever, and after more than a year in Luceti, being caged had become, if not accepted, then at least routine. It was what it was; Neji had been impressed with his own powerlessness, and no matter how much he chafed, the yoke remained.

She flinched the louder his voice rose, not wanting to look at him, but unable to look away, not like this. She hadn't heard him raise his voice like this, sound like this since their Genin days, when he'd been a ball of tightly repressed emotion trying not to lash out at those around him.

She gritted her teeth and swallowed hard, then yanked on his sleeve, tried to yank him toward her. For all their time together as a team, for how physical their combat styles were and how closely they fought, they weren't generally ones for physical affection. Hell, she didn't even know if he'd take it right now, if he'd even let her. If it was a gesture more for her than it was for him.

It was awkward when they were sitting side-by-side like this, but she'd manage, shifting in toward him and letting go of his cloak, leaning up and wrapping both arms around his neck in an attempt at a hug.

"I want my teammate," she managed, voice thick with the same kind of emotion that had just been in his own. "That's all."

He froze as she reached toward him, didn't resist as her arms encircled him and she leaned her weight into him. Those soft words -- they undid him, cut right past his anger and frustration.

Tenten wasn't the enemy. She wasn't someone to resist, someone to push away. He couldn't deny her what she wanted -- not as long as they were both in Luceti.

This is the only way you'll have me.

The thought was painful, gut-wrenching -- and undeniable.

So he let her hold onto him, and even tentatively rested a hand on her back, a sort of reciprocation of the embrace. It was a deeply unaccustomed thing for him, something he didn't entirely know how to handle, but...

But she deserved it. He would let her have it.

She took a deep breath to keep fighting back her tears, head turned to the side to look out over the rooftop than to try to glance toward him. She'd never stayed in this close to him before; generally, if she were this close, they were sparring, and staying inside his guard like this wasn't a place she normally wanted to be.

Then his hand against her back, light as it was, and she squeezed her eyes shut, gulping another shuddering breath as her fingers tightened in the back of his cloak. There was no future here. Not for either of them. They had to get back to the war, they had to keep fighting to preserve their way of life.

But there was no future for him either way. It wasn't fair.

"'M sorry," she choked out, finally, fingers only tightening in the back of his cloak as she kept avoiding his eyes, kept her cheek against his shoulder. "If I could just--"

Just change it. Just be a few feet closer, enough to yell, enough to throw something to slow him down, even a fraction. If she'd been there to get his back like she always did. Then they wouldn't even be having this conversation.

There was no future for him. He had to get back home so he could give up his life for Hinata and Naruto. And then... and then what?

Maybe he would be returned to Luceti after it happened; just stay here, living a sort of caged second life -- wasn't it better than no life at all? He'd reluctantly come to that conclusion. At least here, he could still be with his friends, could still exist.

It wasn't much comfort, though.

"I know," he murmured, an answer in itself. All the ifs, all the wishes...

She took several deep, gulping breaths, but she wouldn't cry. There wasn't time on the battlefield, and she wasn't going to make time now. He deserved better than that, a teammate who could be the strong support she always had been. Even if she just wanted to hold onto him, listen to the sound of his voice, know that he was solid and real and here.

Even if it were an illusion, in spite of what everyone else had said... would it really be so bad, when the illusion was all their team would really have?

But she couldn't bring herself to withdraw just yet, fingers tightening until her knuckles whitened in the back of his cloak. "I'm sorry," she whispered again, squeezing her eyes shut, trying not to sound so guilty. For not being there when he fell, for being so heartlessly cruel to him before. "I'm sorry."

It really said it all, her grip on his cloak, that pained whisper, everything in her bearing, her words, her voice, that told him how much she was hurting.

He didn't really know what to do about it. He was the source of her pain; how was he supposed to soothe it away? Would it even be right to do so? For her not to hurt would suggest that losing him was not an emotional matter for her... But that seemed so cold, to leave her in pain.

So he just let her hold onto him, kept his light hold on her. Maybe... maybe it would be something. A source of comfort, even temporarily.

All the things she wanted to say to him -- to yell at him, to lash out at him for being so damn selfless -- none of it really mattered, in the end. It wasn't his fault, he hadn't done it yet. It wasn't fair to burden him with all that, not like this.

So she just swallowed hard, allowed herself another few seconds to hold him, before slowly loosening her grip and leaning back, pressing both hands' fists against her thighs to try to compose herself.

"Sorry," she murmured again, this time referring to the way she'd clung to him.

"It's fine," he said quietly, brushing aside her apology. This was all... difficult, and in the end, she'd been less effusive than Lee with her reaction. He didn't feel right in trying to hold her to some kind of standard of behavior with this, not when it was just the two of them.

She deserved her time to react, ultimately.

"There's nothing really to do about it," he added. "Not from here. Just... continue on."

"It's not fine," she grumbled, taking another deep breath as her fingers clutched more tightly at her pants, shaking her head and gritting her teeth. A hard swallow, then she leaned in once more to breach his personal space, wrapping her fingers tightly around the clasp of his cloak in an obvious threat. "And I'm not giving up. Not until I find a way back to before.

"Do whatever you want, but don't forget that. Just-- don't."

What he wanted was for her to succeed. But there seemed like so little hope of that...

All he could do was shrug. "I'll continue," he said simply. "Being here... at least I'm with friends." At least he wasn't taken away from them, not yet. He'd had almost a year and a half in this place, a year and a half of life he otherwise wouldn't have gotten.

She let go again and settled back, hands falling to her thighs in fists again.

"And you're content with that? Just-- continuing?" It was out of her mouth before she could stop herself, and she winced as soon as she'd said it.

"Do I look like I'm okay with any of this?" he shot back, eyes narrowed at her tone. Wasn't it obvious how not okay he was with the entire situation? Resigned acceptance was the only practical option he'd found, but it wasn't a good thing by any means.

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