Chapter Text
The morning sun streamed into the Hyuga compound's private dining room, painting warm stripes across the polished floor. The air was light, fragrant with steamed rice, cooked fish, miso soup, and the gentle murmur of conversation – a distinction to the heavy, moonlit confessions of the night before.
Tenten sat between Hinata and Hanabi, picking at her grilled fish. She felt strangely translucent, as if the raw honesty she'd exchanged with Neji had sanded away a protective layer of her skin. The morning light wasn't just bright; it was illuminating, and she wasn't sure she wanted to be seen so clearly. The ghost of his words – 'the connection was real. It is…still real' – echoed in the quiet spaces between the women's voices, a seismic shift in the foundation of her world that only she could feel.
Ayame, poised and serene at the head of the small table, took a delicate sip of tea.
"The architecture here is so open to the gardens," she observed, her gaze drifting to the shoji screens. "In the Land of Iron, our buildings are built for retention of heat. The windows are smaller, the halls narrower. It creates a different feeling – more intimate, perhaps, but also more closed. This feels…expansive."
"The compound can feel too expansive sometimes," Hanabi remarked, not looking up from her bowl. "Especially in winter. It's a long, cold walk from the main house to the training grounds."
Hinata nodded gently. "I always preferred the kitchen in winter. It was the warmest room."
"A strategic choice," Tenten said, a faint, wry smile touched her lips. "The cooks always sneak you a taste of whatever's simmering if you time it right."
Hinata ducked her head, a soft blush colouring her cheeks. "They are too kind. They always insisted I needed 'fortifying'."
"I think they just liked you," Hanabi said, reaching for another piece of fish. "They'd swat my hand away with a spoon if I tried the same thing. Said I had 'the appetite of a stray dog and the manners to match'."
Ayame's laugh was light and genuine. "I'm convinced the best secrets in any household are kept by the kitchen staff. They know everything worth knowing." Her tone was warm and conspiratorial, the formality of her position momentarily set aside.
Hanabi waved her chopsticks dismissively.
"Tell me something I don't know. I've been bribing the head cook since I was six." A sly grin touched her lips. "That's how I knew Neji used to sneak kitchen scraps to feed the stray cats that would wander into the compound. The staff would pretend not to notice when bits of fish went missing, though they always made sure to leave extra out on particularly cold nights."
The image was so disarmingly tender, so utterly at odds with the man Tenten had known for the past five years, that she nearly choked on her rice. The boy who loved stray cats was a universe away from the man who had looked at her with such cold disdain. She coughed lightly into her fist, her eyes watering slightly. Hinata patted her back gently, a knowing, soft smile on her face.
"He always did have a soft spot for creatures that were…independent," Hinata murmured, her gaze thoughtful. "He respected their self-reliance."
It was at that moment a shadow fell across the table. They all looked up. Neji stood in the doorway, his frame perfectly poised, yet he seemed to hesitate on the threshold of the feminine camaraderie. The morning light caught the sharp planes of his face, and for a fleeting second, Tenten saw not the Hyuga prodigy, but the boy they had just been describing.
"Forgive the intrusion," he said, his voice a low, formal baritone that nonetheless lacked its usual ice. His gaze swept the table, lingering for a fraction of a second too long on Tenten, who was still recovering her composure. "Am I interrupting?"
"Not at all, Brother," Hinata said warmly, gesturing to an empty seat. "Please, join us."
Hanabi smirked. "Yes, come in. We were just discussing your career as a feline philanthropist."
The faintest flush coloured the very tips of Neji's ears. He moved into the room with his characteristic grace, pulling out the chair opposite Tenten. The simple action felt monumentally significant. He was choosing to sit with them. With her.
"The kitchen staff are prone to exaggeration," he stated, his tone carefully neutral as he sat down. He did not look at Hanabi, instead focusing on arranging his napkin.
"Or perhaps they simply see more than most," Ayame offered, her green eyes sparkling with gentle amusement. "It is a charming story. It speaks of a quiet compassion."
Neji's jaw clenched, as if compassion were a weakness he'd rather not have advertised. He shifted the subject with the precision of a shinobi deflecting a kunai.
"I actually came to find you, Lady Ayame. I was hoping, if your schedule permits, we might take some time today. There is a teahouse in the village I thought you might appreciate. It would afford us an opportunity to speak without the formality of the compound."
The request was perfectly polite, yet it hung in the air, a reminder of the duty that underpinned their every interaction. A date. He was asking his fiancée on a date.
Ayame's smile was gracious, a delicate flush of pleasure warming her cheeks at Neji's invitation. For a breath, her posture softened, her gaze dropping to her tea before meeting his again.
"I would like that very much," she said, her voice a note softer.
Then, she turned, her gaze settling on Tenten not as a request, but as an acknowledgment of a simple, unchangeable fact.
"Tenten-san will, of course, be accompanying us."
She did not look at Neji as she said it. It was not a question. It was the architecture of their situation, laid bare.
Neji's own slight lean forward, the unconscious shift that had brought him slightly closer to Ayame, halted. He didn't stiffen so much as he seemed to reset, his posture reverting to its default, impeccable alignment. His eyes, which had been fixed on Ayame, cut away, focusing on the grain of the wooden table.
"Naturally," he said. The word was neither warm nor cold, but it fell into the space between them with a dull, flat weight. It was an acknowledgment of a fact so obvious it shouldn't have needed to be spoken aloud, and the need to say it aloud made the air suddenly thick.
Tenten's response was a single, shallow nod, a soldier acknowledging orders. Her fingers, resting on her knees, tightened once, then went still. She focused on the steam curling from her abandoned teacup, her profile a study in neutral observation.
Hanabi watched the entire exchange over the rim of her teacup, her eyes alight with merciless amusement.
"How very...efficient," she murmured, almost to herself. "A romantic outing with a chaperone. Very traditional."
"Hanabi," Hinata said, her tone slightly firmer this time.
"What? I'm just observing the customs. It's all very proper." She looked directly at Neji. "Will you be reciting poetry to Lady Ayame, cousin? Or will the conversation be strictly limited to topics suitable for a guard's ears?"
"Perhaps we could discuss the weather," Ayame suggested, her voice light but her eyes faintly teasing as she glanced at Neji. "I'm told it is a very safe, and very neutral, subject."
A faint, almost imperceptible gleam of understanding lit Neji's pale eyes.
"A tactically sound choice," he conceded, his tone dry but not unkind. "Though I should warn you – my idea of light conversation has been accused of leaning toward strategic analysis." He paused, the barest hint of a smile touching his lips, so subtle it might have been a trick of the light. "Shall we begin with atmospheric pressure, or would you prefer a comparative study of regional precipitation patterns?"
The response was so perfectly Neji – wry, self-aware, and delivered with that characteristically understated humour that was both a deflection and an invitation. A soft, incredulous huff of air escaped Tenten's nose. It wasn't quite a laugh, but it was a sound of pure, unfiltered reaction she hadn't meant to make.
All eyes turned to her. Hanabi's smirk widened into a triumphant grin. Hinata's lips parted in mild surprise. Ayame's expression was one of delighted curiosity, as if she'd just been granted a key to understanding some private joke.
And Neji was looking directly at her. Not with annoyance, but with a flicker of something else – recognition. For a single second, the whisper of an old, familiar understanding passed between them. It was the same look he'd get years ago after he'd land a particularly clever point and glance her way to see if she'd caught it. The look was there and gone so quickly she might have imagined it, his face relaxing back into its usual expression, but the air in the room had shifted again, growing warmer, the earlier awkwardness momentarily forgotten.
It was in this slightly thawed, slightly charged atmosphere that a Hyuga attendant appeared in the doorway, bowing low. "Neji-sama. Lady Ayame. Lord Hiashi requests your immediate presence in the council chamber. He asks that Hinata-sama, Hanabi-sama, and Tenten-sama attend as well."
The summons was a bucket of cold water. The fragile moment shattered. Neji was the first to stand, his expression once again that of the Hyuga heir. "We will come at once."
He held out a hand to assist Ayame from her seat, a gesture of pure protocol. The proposed outing to the teahouse was left hanging, a plan postponed and now layered with the unspoken tension of a formal summons.
The walk to the council chamber was silent, the brief connection from the breakfast room fading with each step down the austere hallway. Neji led the way, his posture rigid once more, every line of his body emphasising his role as the Hyuga prodigy. Ayame followed just behind him, her own grace a mirror to his formality, while Tenten fell into step at the rear, her focus shifting entirely to the mission parameters. Hinata and Hanabi walked together, a silent conversation passing between the sisters in the occasional glance.
When they entered the chamber, the atmosphere was markedly different from their previous meetings. Lord Hiashi sat at the head of the long table, several elders flanking him. Scrolls were spread before them, but these were not maps of trade routes or drafts of political treaties. These were floral motifs, samples of silk brocade, and meticulously drawn seating charts. The air, usually scented with ink and old paper, carried the faint, sweet smell of pressed flowers and high-quality stationery.
"Be seated," Hiashi said, not looking up from a particularly intricate drawing of a table arrangement. His finger traced a line of script. "The alliance is settled. Now, we solidify the union. The Uzumaki inauguration and Hinata's wedding create a unique opportunity. Dignitaries from every corner of the continent will be arriving in Konoha in over the next four weeks' time."
His finger tapped a specific date on a calendar scroll. "The engagement ceremony will be held here, at the compound, in two weeks' time. It will serve as the official introduction of the Hyuga and Heitaro families." He finally looked up, his gaze settling on Ayame. "A message has already been sent by hawk to your father, Lady Ayame. He and your kin should be beginning their preparation for their journey by now. They will be our most honoured guests."
A genuine, radiant smile broke across Ayame's face, the first truly unguarded expression Tenten had seen from her.
"Thank you, Lord Hiashi. That is wonderful news. I am eager for them to see my new home and to know the family I am joining." Her excitement was palpable, softening the formal edges of the room.
One of the elders, his wrinkled hands steepled before him, gave a slow, approving nod. "A wise decision, Hiashi-sama. To host our ceremony while the world's eyes are already upon Konoha. It is a historic moment for the clan. Future generations will speak of this union."
"The timeline is ambitious," Neji said, his voice low and measured. He finally turned his gaze from the wall, his pale eyes settling on his uncle. "Two weeks to prepare for a ceremony of this significance, with foreign dignitaries already en route. The security implications alone will require meticulous planning."
His tone wasn't confrontational, but analytical, highlighting the practical challenges rather than simply accepting the decree. It was the voice of the ANBU captain assessing a mission parameter, not the dutiful prodigy blindly agreeing.
Hiashi's expression didn't change, but he gave a slight, acknowledging nod. "The Hyuga are capable of meeting this challenge. Your expertise will be crucial in the arrangements."
"Of course," Neji replied, the words quieter this time. He had lodged his objection – subtle, professional, but an objection nonetheless – and been overruled. The acceptance that followed was heavier than simple agreement would have been.
"Ambitious, but thrilling," Ayame added, her voice still warm with happiness, skilfully bridging the momentary tension. She turned to one of the other elders. "Elder Kohin, I know my family will be most interested in how we choose to blend our customs. The Heitaro clan has its own betrothal rites. I hope we might find a way to honour both."
Elder Kohin's severe expression softened a fraction at Ayame's respectful tone. "A reasonable expectation, child. We shall review your traditions with the utmost care. The strength of an alliance is built on such mutual respect." She glanced at Hiashi. "The exchange of vows under the full moon, for instance, is a Hyuga custom of great importance. We must ensure it is observed."
"Of course," Ayame replied smoothly. "My father has often spoken of the beauty of Hyuga moon ceremonies. He will be deeply honoured to witness one."
It was a deft move, showing both deference and knowledge, gracefully aligning her family's expectations with the Hyuga's plans.
Hiashi gave a slight, approving nod, his gaze shifting from Neji to Tenten.
"The security arrangements will be paramount with so many foreign dignitaries present. Neji, you will coordinate the compound's defences. You will work alongside Tenten on this. Her expertise in perimeter security and threat assessment is well-documented, and her outside perspective will be an asset."
Their eyes met across the table, a swift, cloaked glance of pure surprise. Neji's normally stoic features faltered for a moment, his brows lifting just a fraction before his expression recomposed. Tenten felt her own lips part slightly, a soft, startled inhale catching in her chest. It was the last thing either of them had expected.
Neji's gaze dropped to the table for a moment before he lifted his head, his expression carefully neutral.
"Yes, sir," he said, the words measured and deliberate. There was no ice in his tone, only a strained formality that spoke volumes.
Tenten managed a single, nod, her throat too tight for words. The professional acknowledgment was a far cry from the cold dismissal she'd grown accustomed to, and the shift was both thrilling and terrifying.
Hiashi's finger then slid one week forward on the calendar. "The wedding itself will follow one week after the engagement ceremony. This allows our guests to bear full witness to the strength of this new alliance without the burden of a second long journey."
Two weeks. Three weeks. The dates landed on the table with the finality of a mission scroll. Tenten kept her eyes fixed on a knot in the wooden table, absorbing the information as a strategic timeline.
"The details will be managed," Hiashi concluded, his tone making it clear the discussion was over. He finally looked up, his pale eyes sweeping over them, lingering for a moment on Neji's rigid form. "You will all be expected to perform your roles."
The dismissal was clear. The meeting was adjourned. The wedding was no longer an abstract concept; it was a date on a calendar, an event with a guest list and a dress fitting. It was real.
As they rose, the air was thick with the unspoken. The proposed outing to the teahouse now hung before them, its earlier potential now magnified a hundredfold by the weight of the plans just laid upon them. Neji offered his arm to Ayame, his movements precise and detached. He did not look back at Tenten as he guided his fiancée from the room.
Hanabi came to stand on her other side, her sharp eyes following Neji's retreating back.
"Well," she said, her voice dry. "This should be interesting. Try not to let him talk your ear off about defensive formations." The teasing was gentle, an offering of solidarity.
Tenten managed a faint smile. "I'll do my best."
Together, the women left the council chamber, the weight of the coming weeks settling over them like a heavy cloak. The path ahead was clear, and there would be no turning back.
The afternoon sun dappled through the leaves of Konoha's streets, casting shifting patterns on the three figures moving through the bustling village.
Neji and Ayame walked side-by-side, a picture of composed elegance that turned heads as they passed. Tenten, maintaining her careful five-pace distance, watched the subtle reactions of their fellow villagers – the respectful nods from older shinobi who recognised Neji's stature, the curious glances from civilians drawn to Ayame's foreign elegance, the way conversations sometimes hushed slightly as they passed, not out of fear, but out of a quiet recognition of significance.
"The architecture here is so different from the Land of Iron," Ayame observed, her voice carrying gently on the warm air. She gestured toward a shopfront where colourful banners fluttered. "Everything feels more open here. In my home, buildings are built for defence first, beauty second."
Neji followed her gaze, his hands tucked formally into the sleeves of his dark blue yukata.
"Konoha has always valued openness," he replied, his tone measured. "Though appearances can be deceptive. There are defensive measures woven into every structure, every street." He nodded toward a seemingly ordinary water drainage grate, and Tenten knew he was noting the reinforced steel and hidden chakra seals beneath it.
"Like the drainage systems doubling as emergency escape routes?" Ayame asked, a note of genuine curiosity in her voice. "I noticed the particular pattern of the grates. They're modelled after the Uzumaki sealing style, aren't they?"
Neji's step faltered almost imperceptibly. Tenten, watching from behind, saw the slight stiffening of his shoulders. "
You are...remarkably observant," he said, and Tenten heard the faintest note of surprised respect in his usually flat tone.
"My father believes a ruler should understand both the art and the architecture of defence," Ayame said lightly. She paused at a street vendor's stall, examining the displayed trinkets with polite interest before moving on. "He would appreciate Konoha's approach. There is beauty in practicality." She glanced at Neji, her expression thoughtful. "It must be difficult balancing the traditions of your clan with the openness of Konoha."
Neji did not immediately respond. Tenten watched the way his head tilted slightly, the way his footsteps slowed just enough to indicate he was actually considering the question, not simply dismissing it. They passed a group of off-duty chunin who fell silent, offering respectful bows which Neji acknowledged with the slightest nod of his head.
"The balance is maintained through understanding that both serve the same purpose," he said finally, his voice quieter now, more personal. "The Hyuga traditions provide structure and preservation. Konoha's values provide flexibility and growth. One cannot truly thrive without the other."
The words sounded less rehearsed than before, as if he were sharing something he had actually pondered rather than reciting clan doctrine.
"A very diplomatic answer," Ayame teased gently. "But if you had to choose between perfectly executed tradition or wildly innovative progress, which would you pick? No diplomacy allowed."
For the first time, Neji actually looked startled by a question. He was silent for a long moment, his brow furrowing slightly. Then, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.
"I would attempt to perfect the innovation until it became tradition," he said, his tone dry but unmistakably witty.
Ayame laughed, a light, pleasant sound. "Spoken like a true prodigy. You would simply bend reality to your will, wouldn't you?"
He paused, his pale eyes studying Ayame with genuine curiosity. "And you? If you were faced with that choice?"
Ayame's smile was gracious. "I would find a way to make the new system honour the old customs. Progress need not mean abandonment." She then surprised them both as she glanced back at Tenten. "What about you, Tenten? What are your thoughts?"
The air shifted. Neji's playful mood vanished, his attention sharpening on Tenten with an intensity that felt both familiar and entirely new.
Tenten considered for a moment, watching a leaf drift down from a nearby tree, spinning between old patterns and new currents.
"I think…most people view them as opposing forces when they are not," she said, her voice calm but firm, carrying a conviction that seemed to resonate in the quiet street. "A foundation's only purpose is to support what you build on top of it. You don't refuse to build a new room because the original blueprint didn't include it." She finally met Neji's gaze. "You build it because you need it. You honour the foundation by trusting it's strong enough to hold the weight."
The street sounds seemed to fade around them. Ayame's smile softened into something more contemplative.
"You speak of foundations as living things," she said, her voice thoughtful. "That they must breathe and grow rather than simply endure. It's a compelling way to see the world."
But Neji wasn't listening to Ayame anymore. He was just looking at Tenten, his expression unreadable yet utterly transparent. The clever retort he'd offered moments before had vanished, replaced by something raw and startled. He looked like a man who had been following a map for years only to have someone point out he'd been reading it upside down.
The silence stretched, charged and fragile. A muscle flexed in his jaw. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, meant only for them. "Some foundations are slow to trust."
Tenten didn't look away. "Some are worth waiting for."
For one breath, two, the world narrowed to the space between them, the echo of Tenten's words hanging in the air. Then Neji turned abruptly, breaking the spell. He didn't speak, simply gesturing toward the end of the street before leading the way.
They walked the final steps in a silence that felt heavier than before. Tenten's eyes lifted to the familiar wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze, the carved depiction of a steaming teacup now worn smooth with age. A faint, bittersweet ache bloomed in her chest. It was the teashop from their genin days. Their teashop.
The old proprietress was outside, watering the lush ferns that hung beside the entrance. She looked up as they approached, her eyes crinkling in immediate recognition.
"Oh my, as I live and breathe," she exclaimed, her voice a warm, familiar rasp. She wiped her hands on her apron before reaching out and taking both of Neji's hands in her own work-worn ones. "Neji-boy. It's been too long." Her touch was gentle but firm, and for a brief moment, Neji's rigid posture softened almost imperceptibly.
"Obā-san," he said, the old honorific slipping out with a quiet warmth that surprised even himself. His stern expression eased into something softer, more genuine, as he looked at the woman who had served him tea since he was a boy.
Her eyes then flicked to Tenten, and a knowing, complicated smile touched her lips. "And Tenten-chan. My, you look all grown up." She finished with a polite, curious glance toward Ayame. "And you've brought a new friend."
Neji's posture straightened again, though less stiffly than before. He gently extracted his hands from hers and turned slightly toward Ayame. "Obā-san, this is Lady Ayame, of the Land of Iron." He paused, the words feeling both foreign and inevitable on his tongue. "My fiancée."
The old woman's smile didn't falter, but her eyes widened just slightly. Her gaze darted between Neji and Tenten for a heartbeat before she recovered, bowing gracefully to Ayame.
"A fiancée! What an honour to meet you, my lady. Please accept my congratulations. I always knew the girl Neji would marry would be a beauty," she declared, her eyes flickering ever so fleetingly toward Tenten before returning to Ayame with warm approval. "And you are certainly that, my dear. What a lovely match!"
Her expression shifted to one of mock sternness as she turned back to Neji, still holding his hands. "But five years, Neji-boy! Five years you've stayed away from my tea. Did my roasted hōjicha become unworthy of the great Hyuga prodigy?" Her tone was light, teasing, but held a genuine thread of hurt.
A faint flush touched Neji's ears. "My apologies, Obā-san," he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "My duties have...kept me occupied. It was not intentional."
She patted his hands before releasing them, her expression softening. "I suppose I'll forgive you this time." She turned to Ayame with a warm smile. "You'll have to excuse him, my lady. This one and his friends used to be my favourite customers. Always so serious during their strategy talks, but they could laugh like proper children too." Her eyes twinkled with memory. "Especially Tenten-chan and that lovely boy with the bowl cut would –"
"Obā-san," Neji interjected, his voice tighter than before. "Perhaps we could be seated?"
"But of course, of course! Right this way – I think your usual spot in the back is free. And the first round of tea is on the house for such a wonderful occasion!" Obā beamed, ushering them inside with a wave of her hand.
Neji stepped aside, allowing Ayame and Tenten to enter first. As Tenten moved past him, their eyes met – just for a fraction of a second. In that silent exchange, she saw the same unease churning in his gaze that tightened her own chest. This hadn't been part of the plan. Bringing Ayame here – to this place, so steeped in memory – felt less like a gesture of courtesy and more like a miscalculation, one whose consequences were already unfolding.
The interior was just as Tenten remembered: low wooden tables, soft lantern light, the earthy scent of roasted tea leaves and polished cedar. It wrapped around her like a forgotten blanket, comfortable and painful all at once.
The old woman led them to a corner booth partially screened by a bamboo divider, the very one where they'd always sat years ago.
"Here you are. Cozy, just how you like it." She smiled warmly, though her eyes lingered a moment longer on Tenten than necessary.
"Now," she began, pulling a small notepad from her apron, "what will it be? The usual for you, Neji-boy? Hōjicha, no sugar?"
Neji gave a tight nod. "Yes. Thank you."
"And for you, my lady?" she asked, turning to Ayame.
Ayame, who had been quietly observing the space with a politely curious expression, smiled. "I shall trust Neji's taste. Whatever he recommends."
Neji, his composure momentarily returning, gave a slight nod. "Two hōjicha's, please."
Obā's eyes crinkled. "A wise choice. And for you, Tenten-chan? Barley tea? Or perhaps that sweet lemon concoction you and Lee-kun used to love?"
Another specific, personal detail offered up like a casual gift, its implications hanging heavy in the air.
Tenten's voice felt thick. "Barley tea is fine. Thank you."
As Obā bustled away to prepare their order, the silence at the table became a tangible thing, thick and brewing with tension. The absence of the cheerful old woman left them alone with the weight of her revealing familiarity.
Ayame smoothed the silk of her kimono, her movements graceful and deliberate. Her hands remained folded neatly on the table, her expression one of polite patience, but her eyes held a new, thoughtful light as they observed the two people across from her.
"Obā-san is very kind," Ayame observed, her tone neutral and pleasant. "She seems to know you both quite well." She glanced between them, not accusingly, but with dissecting curiosity. "Did you often frequent this place together?"
The question hung in the air, simple and calamitous. Neji's posture, already rigid, seemed to turn to stone. Tenten's mind raced, scrambling for a plausible half-truth that wouldn't unravel the fragile web of secrecy they'd maintained for weeks.
"It was...conveniently located," Neji said, his voice even but hollow. "Near training grounds we used."
The lie was technically true but felt flimsy, omitting the countless afternoons spent there as a team, the laughter and debates that had filled this very booth.
Tenten seized on his thread, forcing her voice to sound light, casual.
"Yes. Many shinobi from our generation came here after drills. It was...popular." She focused on a knot in the wooden table, avoiding Ayame's perceptive gaze. "Obā-san has an excellent memory for faces. She probably remembers all her regulars."
The explanation felt pathetic even to her own ears. Obā-san's specific, fond familiarity with them – with her – had been anything but impersonal.
Ayame nodded slowly, her elegant features arranged in a mask of acceptance, though the slight tilt of her head suggested her thoughts were still turning the information over, examining it from all angles.
"I see," she said softly. "It must be nice to be remembered so fondly by someone in the community." A warm, amused smile then touched her lips as she looked specifically at Neji. "Though I must say, it is rather endearing to learn you have such a soft spot in the heart of a local shopkeeper. 'Neji-boy' is not a title I would have ever imagined for you. It suits you, in a strangely charming way."
Her tone was light, teasing, completely disarming in its genuine affection. Yet the observation landed with precision, highlighting the intimate familiarity Obā-san had exposed and making their weak explanations seem even more transparent.
In a rare sight, Neji's ears flushed a deeper shade of pink. He straightened slightly, his formal mask attempting to reassert itself though it clearly struggled against his obvious discomfort.
"Obā-san is…persistent in her informality. It is a familiarity I have been unable to...discourage over the years."
The words were meant to sound dismissive, but came out sounding almost fond, betraying his true feelings.
Ayame's smile only widened at his flustered response.
"There is no need to be ashamed," she said gently, her tone still light. "I find it quite telling. It reveals a side of you that is...unexpectedly sweet."
Neji cleared his throat, his gaze dropping to the worn table. "It is merely a shopkeeper's familiarity," he insisted, though the protest lacked conviction.
"Perhaps," Ayame conceded, though her eyes sparkled with knowing amusement. "But such familiarity must be earned, must it not? One does not become 'Neji-boy' through occasional visits alone." She tilted her head, her curiosity genuine but piercing. "What particular memories made you so dear to her? I find myself quite curious about this version of you that inspires such affection."
Neji opened his mouth, no doubt to offer another strained deflection, when Obā-san arrived at their table, balancing a tray with practiced ease. The timing was so perfect it felt almost orchestrated.
"Here we are now," she announced cheerfully, carefully setting a rustic clay teapot before Neji. "Hōjicha, no sugar, for Neji." She then placed a delicate porcelain cup and a sugar bowl in front of Ayame. "And the same for, my lady. I also brought a cup of sugar just in case you like yours a bit sweeter than Neji-boy." Finally, she set a simple cup of clear barley tea before Tenten. "And the usual for you, dear."
"Thank you, Obā-san," the weapons mistress murmured.
As the older woman straightened, her eyes fell upon Ayame's hand resting near her teacup. Her cheerful expression softened into one of genuine delight.
"Oh, my lady," she breathed, her voice full of warm respect. "Forgive an old woman's forwardness, but is that the ring? The craftsmanship is exquisite. May I see it?"
The request was so perfectly timed and delivered that it could only have been intentional. Ayame's face lit up with genuine pleasure at the opportunity to showcase her ring.
"Of course," she said, gracefully extending her hand.
As Obā-san bent to examine the ring, offering effusive praise for its design, Neji and Tenten shared a brief, simultaneous look of profound relief. The moment of crisis had passed, skillfully diverted by the wise old shopkeeper who had perhaps realised she'd said too much.
"Such exquisite work," Obā-san murmured, her eyes tracing the delicate Hyuga symbols etched into the platinum band. "The clarity of the diamond is remarkable. It suits your hand perfectly, my lady." She released Ayame's hand with a respectful nod. "Might I ask when the happy occasion will be? The whole village is buzzing with excitement, but we old women must rely on gossip for our news."
Ayame's smile remained warm, though a subtle tension returned to her shoulders at the direct question.
"The ceremony will be held at the compound in three weeks' time," she said smoothly. "It will be quite the event – dignitaries from across the nations will be attending, as it coincides with Lord Seventh's inauguration celebrations."
"How lovely," Obā-san replied. "And will you be wearing traditional Hyuga white, or perhaps incorporating some elements from your homeland's customs?"
"A blend of both, I believe," Ayame said, her diplomatic training evident in her polished response. "The kimono is Hyuga silk, but the obi clasp is modelled after my grandmothers from the Land of Iron. We believe it honours both families."
"How thoughtful," the old woman said, her genuine appreciation clear. "A marriage should weave together traditions, not erase them." She glanced between Neji and Ayame. "You make a striking pair. The clan must be very pleased."
"The alliance is favourable for both our lands," Neji said, his voice carefully neutral, though his knuckles were pale where he gripped his teacup.
Obā-san's perceptive eyes didn't miss the tension thrumming beneath the surface of their polite exchange.
"Well, I'll leave you to enjoy your tea," she said with sudden brightness, giving them a knowing smile. "Should you need anything else, just call."
As Obā-san retreated, the silence at the table stretched, thick with everything that had been said and everything that had been carefully avoided. Neji stared into his hōjicha as if the dark liquid held answers to questions he couldn't voice.
Tenten cleared her throat softly.
"Perhaps," she began, her tone carefully professional, "it would be more appropriate for me to give you both some privacy. I could take my tea to another table –"
"No, please," Ayame said, her voice gentle but firm. She smiled at Tenten, a genuine expression that held none of the suspicion or coldness one might expect. "Your presence is no imposition. In fact, I find it rather comforting." Her gaze shifted to Neji, thoughtful. "Unless my fiancé objects?"
Neji's eyes lifted from his tea, meeting Tenten's for a brief moment before returning to Ayame.
"There is no need for you to move," he said, his voice low. "The purpose of this outing was for us to...become better acquainted. Your presence as Lady Ayame's guard is appropriate."
Ayame's smile softened slightly at his formal response.
"You see? No objections." She took another sip of her tea, her eyes studying Neji over the rim of her cup. "Though I must confess, I find myself even more curious now. This version of you that Obā-san knows – the one who earns affectionate nicknames and has favourite tea orders...he seems quite different from the man I've come to know through negotiations and formal dinners."
She leaned forward slightly, her expression open and genuinely curious rather than accusatory. "Tell me, do you often visit places like this? Or has your life become solely about duty and politics since you've grown older?"
The question was asked with such gentle sincerity that it seemed to disarm Neji's defences more effectively than any confrontation could have. He hesitated, his carefully constructed walls visibly wavering under her genuine interest. He set his teacup down with a quiet click, his fingers lingering on the warm clay.
"Places like this..." he began, his voice softer than before, "…were necessary. Not for efficiency, but for clarity. After training, when the mind is crowded with technique and strategy, the quiet here helped settle it."
Ayame watched him, her expression attentive and encouraging. "A place to decompress," she offered gently.
"Yes," Neji agreed. He paused, a memory seeming to surface. "Obā-san, she lost her husband just before my team began frequenting this place. There were weeks where she struggled to keep the shop open." He didn't look at Tenten, but the shared memory of those difficult days hung in the air between them. "There wasn't much a genin could do, but we could be present. We could ensure her firewood was stacked, that the roof was sound after a storm. Pay for an extra cup of tea, though she'd never take it. Small things."
The explanation was offered quietly, almost reluctantly, but it revealed a layer of Neji that Ayame had never seen – a deep, quiet compassion that expressed itself not in words, but in steadfast action. It was a side Tenten knew intimately, a truth that now felt like a shard of glass in her chest as she listened to him offer this piece of himself to another woman.
"How do you find clarity now?" Ayame asked, her tone softer now, touched by the revelation.
Neji's gaze dropped back to his tea.
"I...am still learning," he admitted, the confession surprising in its honesty. It was as close as he could come to acknowledging the turmoil within him. "The responsibilities are greater. The complications more numerous. It is more difficult to find quiet."
Ayame's expression softened with genuine empathy.
"Perhaps we can find such a space together," she suggested, her voice warm. She gently placed her hand over his where it rested on the table – a tentative, but deliberate gesture of connection. "Every partnership needs a place untouched by duty, wouldn't you agree?"
Neji stiffened for a fraction of a second at the contact, a reflex born of years of keeping others at a distance. But then, something in him yielded. His hand, which had been lying still and tense beneath hers, slowly turned palm-up. His fingers didn't quite curl around hers, but they didn't pull away either. It was a surrender, small and significant – an acceptance of her touch, her offer, and the future it represented.
"I would like that," he said, losing its last vestiges of formality. The words were meant for Ayame, but his gaze remained fixed on their joined hands.
Tenten looked away, the simple, intimate gesture landed like a kunai to the ribs. She focused on the steam rising from her own untouched tea before taking a deliberate sip, the bland liquid doing little to wash away the sudden lump in her throat. Her grip on the cup tightened slightly.
This was good. This was what was supposed to happen. The boy who had fixed a widow's roof was trying to build a bridge to his future wife. The thought felt hollow, but Tenten clung to it anyway.
She watched and listened as Ayame drew Neji into other conversation, asking about his favourite training grounds, the books he read. To Tenten's surprise, Neji answered readily, and even began asking questions in turn about her favourite places at home, the libraries Ayame had grown up with, the instruments played in her court. It was a genuine, if somewhat formal, exchange, a deliberate effort to build the foundation of their life together.
At one point, a trio of kunoichi in their late teens entered the teahouse. Their lively chatter hushed as they recognised Neji, their postures straightening with respect, though their eyes held a distinct, flustered admiration. They took a table not far away, their conversation now consisting of whispered asides and stolen, blushing glances in his direction. They were around Ayame's age, their interest more nuanced than childish infatuation – a mix of professional respect for the renowned Hyuga prodigy and unmistakable appreciation for his striking appearance.
Ayame followed their gazes, a soft, amused smile touching her lips. She leaned slightly toward Neji, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. "It seems I have acquired a rather handsome fiancé. You have quite the admiring audience."
He did not glance toward the girls, keeping his focus on Ayame, though a faint, almost imperceptible tension returned to his shoulders.
"They are children," he said, his voice low. "They admire the title, not the man."
"Perhaps," Ayame conceded, though her smile remained. "But the title does come with a rather pleasing exterior."
"Then I shall endeavour to ensure the substance merits the presentation," he replied, his lips almost curving into a faint smile.
The response, so uncharacteristically thoughtful and subtly flirtatious, seemingly caught Ayame slightly off guard. Her smile widened into something genuinely delighted, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. For a moment, the political arrangement between them felt almost like a real courtship. Tenten watched from her isolated vantage point, the familiar ache in her chest sharpening as she witnessed this easy rapport.
When the tea was finished, Neji placed his cup down with quiet finality. He stood, his movements smooth and deliberate.
"If you would both wait outside, I will join you shortly," he said, his tone neutral but leaving little room for question.
Tenten immediately reached for her coin purse.
"I'll cover my share," she said, her voice firm despite the awkwardness of the moment.
Neji's gaze flickered to her, his expression unreadable. "That won't be necessary. It is included in your assignment provisions."
"It's principle," Tenten countered, holding out the appropriate amount of ryō. "I pay my own way."
A faint tension settled between them, the professional disagreement hinting at deeper currents. Ayame watched the exchange with quiet intensity.
Neji's hand came up, not to take the money, but to gently yet firmly close her fingers back around the coins. His touch was brief, impersonal, but the intent was absolute.
"The arrangement stands, Tenten," he said, his voice low but leaving no room for further debate. "Please wait outside."
The use of her name, stripped of any title, felt like both a dismissal and an intimacy. Tenten's hand fell back to her side, the coins feeling heavy in her palm.
She gave a tight, single nod. "Ok."
Ayame offered a small, conciliatory smile.
"Shall we?" she said gently, gesturing toward the door.
The two women stepped outside into the late afternoon sun.
As they waited, Tenten glanced back through the teahouse window.
She saw Neji at the counter, attempting to discreetly press a significant amount of extra ryō into Obā-san's hand. The old woman was shaking her head, her expression firm but kind, pushing the money back toward him. She watched as Obā-san's mouth moved, her words inaudible but her meaning clear in the gentle, chiding shake of her head and the warm press of her hand over his, refusing the payment but not releasing him immediately.
Neji's stern posture softened in a way Tenten had rarely seen. He didn't just nod; he inclined his head in a deep, respectful bow that spoke of genuine affection and regard. The older woman reached out and patted his cheek with a tenderness that made Tenten's breath catch. The gesture was so maternal, so familiar, it revealed a history of kindness between them that went far beyond merchant and customer.
The exchange was swift and quiet, but it spoke volumes. Tenten felt an unexpected warmth bloom in her chest, a painful yet fond ache. Despite his cold exterior, the boy who had fixed a widow's roof was still in there, still trying to care for people in his own, stubborn way. She quickly looked away before he could catch her watching, a new, fragile hope blooming in her chest. The image of his quiet kindness staying with her long after he joined them outside, his expression once again an unreadable mask as Ayame slipped her arm into his for the journey home.
"The main gate remains the primary vulnerability," Neji stated, his voice rough with fatigue. He rubbed at his eyes, the Byakugan finally receding after hours of use. His finger tapped a flaw in the eastern perimeter on the blueprint. "No matter how we configure the patrols, there's a seventeen-second gap in coverage here between rotations. Unacceptable."
Tenten leaned over the schematic, her own movements sluggish. She'd been silently running probability calculations for the last hour.
"We can't shorten the rotation without burning out the guards before the event even starts," she said, her voice flat with exhaustion. "The solution isn't more guards. It's a trap." She picked up a charcoal stick and sketched a quick, elegant design between two buildings. "A weighted net, triggered by chakra fluctuation. Non-lethal, but it'll hold an intruder just long enough for the next patrol to arrive."
Neji studied her addition, his critical gaze tracing every line. "The trigger mechanism is too sensitive. A stray ninken would set it off and cause a panic."
He took the charcoal from her, his fingers brushing against hers for a fraction of a second. Neither reacted. He modified her design, adding a secondary filter.
"There. It will now only react to chakra levels above a certain threshold. It will ignore animals and most genin."
A young Hyuga guard standing near the door stifled a yawn. They had been at this for hours, the two jonin operating in a sphere of intense focus that seemed to drain the very light from the room.
"The poison screening protocol is still inadequate," Neji said, shifting to another scroll. "We're relying on visual identification. Any competent assassin would use something undetectable to the eye."
Tenten nodded, pushing a stray hair from her face. "We need a bloodline limit. Someone with toxin-sensing abilities. The Yamanaka clan has a branch with that specialty. I can make a formal request to Ino in the morning."
"Do it." Neji's approval was swift and absolute. He looked at the dozen exhausted guards still waiting for dismissal. "That is enough for tonight. Review what we've established. I want preliminary reports on your assigned sectors by noon tomorrow. We will continue refining this tomorrow night."
The relief in the room was palpable. The guards bowed stiffly and filed out, their footsteps echoing in the sudden silence.
Neji and Tenten were left alone amidst the chaos of scrolls and schematics. The professional tension that had held them upright for hours finally dissipated, leaving only weariness in its wake. Tenten began gathering scattered charcoal sticks, her movements automatic. Neji carefully rolled the main blueprint, his fingers smoothing out the edges with a precision that seemed innate.
The silence stretched, no longer filled with strategic possibilities, but with everything they hadn't said all day.
Tenten carefully capped an inkwell, the click echoing softly in the room.
"There's another thing," she began, her voice quieter now, stripped of its earlier command tone. She kept her eyes on the scroll she was rolling. "About the sensor net trigger. We could calibrate it to recognise specific foreign chakra signatures. It would ignore Konoha-nin and animals entirely, only targeting signatures not registered in our logs."
Neji paused in his tidying, considering. "The initial calibration would be a massive undertaking. We'd need baseline readings from every single dignitary upon their arrival."
"I know," Tenten conceded. "It's a complex solution. But it might be the most precise one." She finally looked up, meeting his gaze across the table. "We could run it by Shikamaru. Get his opinion. As a professional consultation. He's the best strategist in the village. He might see an angle we've missed."
The name hung in the air. Neji's posture, which had relaxed a fraction, went perfectly still. A faint muscle twitched in his jaw. The mention of the Nara prodigy – the man who had so casually challenged him at the party, who seemed to understand Tenten with an easy familiarity that grated on him – was an irritant.
"The Nara's intellect is...considerable," Neji allowed, his voice cool and diplomatic. "But this is a Hyuga security matter. Our defences are unique to our clan's capabilities. Involving an outsider, even a skilled one, could create more complications than it solves." He saw the pragmatic sense in her suggestion, but a stubborn pride, and a deeper, more personal reluctance, refused to entertain it. "If we hit an impasse we cannot resolve, then I will consider it. But not before."
Tenten nodded, accepting the finality in his tone. She understood the refusal was a complex mix of clan pride and something more personal she couldn't quite define. The air shifted again, the professional problem shelved, leaving the more personal one simmering beneath the surface.
"She almost had us today, didn't she?" Tenten said, a wry, tired smile touching her lips. She didn't need to specify who. "Obā-san. One more story about 'Neji-boy' and his team and the whole roof would have caved in."
A grudging smile softened Neji's stern expression.
"She has never understood the meaning of discretion." He said it with a fondness that betrayed his affection for the old woman. "She sees the world in terms of people she cares for, not clan politics."
"You're going to have to invite her, you know," Tenten joked, her tone light but her eyes watching him carefully. "To the engagement party. And the wedding. She'd never forgive you if you didn't. She'll probably try to cater it."
To her surprise, Neji didn't dismiss the idea. He looked thoughtful.
"It...would be a fitting gesture. She has been a constant." He said it as if truly considering it, and the reality of those events – his engagement party, his wedding – settled between them once more, heavier than any security schematic.
Tenten took a slow breath, steeling herself.
"Ayame seems to really appreciate those gestures. The personal ones. You taking her to the teahouse. It meant a lot to her." She forced the words out, each one feeling like a small betrayal of her own heart. "She's trying very hard to connect with you. To understand your world."
Neji was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the rolled blueprint in his hands.
"She is...making an effort," he conceded, his voice low. "It is more than I expected from a political arrangement. She asks questions. She listens to the answers."
Tenten took a slow, shaky breath, steeling herself for what she had to say next. The words felt like glass in her throat.
"I...I really like her, Neji." She forced herself to continue, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think you and Lady Ayame are a good fit."
The words landed in the quiet room.
Neji had turned to place a scroll on a shelf, his back to her. At her words, he went completely still. The scroll slipped from his fingers, hitting the floor with a soft thud that sounded unnaturally loud in the silence. He didn't move to pick it up. He simply stood there, his shoulders rigid, his back to her. Tenten couldn't see his face, but the sudden, absolute stillness was more telling than any outburst.
She misread his silence for skepticism and pressed on, the words tumbling out in a desperate attempt to convince them both.
"She's kind, Neji. And sharp and mature way beyond her years. She sees you – not just the Hyuga prodigy, but you. The way she teased you today at the teahouse...you were different with her. Lighter. And she clearly admires you." Each compliment towards Ayame felt like a knife twisting in her own heart, but she couldn't stop. "She'll be good for you. For the clan. She understands duty, but she has her own mind. It's a good match. A really good match."
Slowly, Neji turned around. The expression on his face was carefully, painfully impassive, but his eyes were dark and unreadable.
"Thank you," he said. The two words were flat, utterly devoid of warmth.
To Tenten, they sounded dismissive, a clear brush-off. He was humouring her. He'd heard her pointless babbling and was now shutting it down. The confirmation of his indifference was a physical pain.
He took a step toward the table, his movements stiff, as if eager to be done with this conversation. He reached for the same central compound map she was leaning over. His hand closed over the edge just as her fingers brushed it to pull it closer.
The contact was brief – a mere brush of skin against skin – but it was electric. A jolt, sharp and startling, shot up Tenten's arm. She snatched her hand back as if burned, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Neji flinched back just as quickly, his own hand recoiling. The map, suddenly abandoned, curled back onto the table.
For a single, suspended second, they stared at each other. His cold mask had finally cracked, but Tenten, blinded by her own certainty of his annoyance, saw only startled irritation in his eyes.
"Forgive me," she muttered, the words choked, and she quickly turned away, busying herself with another scroll so he wouldn't see the hurt on her face.
The silence stretched, dense and uncomfortable. Then, Neji spoke, "Lee would be furious if he knew we were working this late without him."
The words were so unexpected, so utterly disarming. It wasn't about tactics or duty. It was a memory. A specific, shared memory of their teammate's particular brand of enthusiastic concern. A faint, involuntary smile touched her lips before she could stop it.
"He'd probably burst in here right now," she said, her voice losing some of its tightness, "and declare that we're 'squandering the precious moonlight meant for restorative sleep.'"
She dared a glance at him. Neji's posture had softened.
"He would," he agreed, a hint of dry amusement in his tone. "And then he would challenge us to a push-up competition to determine who was most worthy of taking the first rest."
The image was so perfectly, painfully Lee that Tenten let out a soft huff of laughter, the sound strange and foreign in the tense room. "We'd never hear the end of it if we lost. He'd be insufferable at training for a week."
"He is insufferable every week," Neji countered, but there was no malice in it. It was the old, familiar refrain, a comfortable rhythm from a time when their roles were clearly defined. Teammates. Friends.
The simplicity of that memory hung between them, a stark contrast to the complicated adults they had become. Tenten's smile faded slightly, but the warmth of the shared moment lingered.
"He'd be happy, you know," she found herself saying, softer now. "To see us...like this. Working together again." She gestured vaguely at the scrolls between them, not daring to specify what 'this' really was.
Neji was quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting to the window and the moonlit compound beyond. "He has always believed in certain...bonds. With a faith that defies all logic and strategy."
It was the closest he had come to acknowledging what had been broken between them. Not an apology, not an explanation, but a recognition of a value their third teammate had always held sacred.
"He's not the only one," Tenten whispered, the words out before she could stop them.
The air grew still again, but the quality of the silence had changed. They finished clearing the room in that new, contemplative quiet, the glimmer of their old team feeling more present than it had in years, making the space between them feel both wider and somehow smaller than ever before.