Death Becomes Him
The Hyuuga clan had been gifted the all-seeing eyes, and for generations that had been what they were known for.
All-seeing.. But for Neji, it certainly didn't feel like it. Not anymore.
Nobody ever really looked at Neji in the compound. Not since.. Don’t think about it.
It wasn't all at once. But within a week of his..stop .. that time. When he woke enough from the numbness to pull his father’s old kimono shirt, pulling the layers on right over left.
When an elder used that despicable seal to punish him for wearing his clothing as if he were dead- as if they had killed him.
He was he wasand it never got better everythinggoodw̴̛̗͔̽a̷͍͒͊s̶̬̈́͌ g̶̞̣͓̰̞̮̯̩̬͓͗̅́̒̇̿o̶̡͍̘̊͒͒̐̑̀̈̆̿͆̃̄ͅn̷̰̙̗̜̳͌e̸̢̻̺̰͍̭͛͆̉̈̒̔̈́̕
Something had scared the man. Something unnatural made him look away. It was as if his shadow got longer and long̵̢̤͍̪͓̖͓̩͙͇͚̰̖̻̻̟̘͓͖̘͙̣̞͈̰͕̔͜ͅę̶̢̛͉̹̻̪̬̣̘͓͙͍̏̿͒̍̎̀͒̾̈̒̓͗̎̄̃̆͝͝r̴̡̢̨̛̭̻̥͍̬͚̺͕̘̙̹̖̝̻̪͈̟̘͓̻͚̥͎̦͚͐̈́̒͊͆͋̊͋̒͌͛̂͗̏̋̊́͒́̑͒̒͗́̎͠ͅ, and it never regained norm̷̢̧̯͖̖̲̝̝͔͎͎̮̘͖͙̯̝̩̙͉̻̮͕̫̻̜̄́͑̈̌̆̾̀͊̐̔̀̑̅̔̀̈́̎̈́͘̚͘͜͝͝a̵̢̡̡̢̛͉̣̭͈̙͍̼̬̲̼̽̽͊̊̅͗͗̾̽́̅̇͝͝lcy.
And so he was unseen . For weeks. For months. ̵̰̪͉̞͇̝̫́́̈́̅̾͋͠͝͝F̶̹̟͍̭̰̫̉̂́̉͜͝o̸͚͓̮͉͙͍̞̐́̔͗́̂͑͑͜͠͝ȓ̸͎̉̒́̍͒̑̒ ̷̢̲̬̞̫͇͔͌́̊͊̀̌̈́͝ę̷̨̪͈̞͖̯͔̐̑̄̂͠t̸̳̺̟̟̹͎̝͉̄̄͘ẹ̵͚͓̒̓r̷̮̬͎͖͉̒̂́̾n̸̢̛̳͓͖͈͙̎̍͑̓̄̍̂̕͠ͅȉ̷̤͎t̸̫̣̀́͒͒̀̅̒͒̾̽y̷̛̼̗̮͖͕͚̬̔̏̿͌̔̓̍́
……yet.
It was a disconcerting sensation to arrive at the Academy and exist in other's eyes again.
His first day, Orientation, was spent alone. No one brought him there. His meager lunch, as all his meals, packed himself.
He barely noted the other children, b̵͙̄͑͝l̷̳̩͓̩̲͊ẹ̴̒͆̓͠s̵̥̬̯̹͈̈́̂s̶͓̮̾͊͂e̷͙̻͕̲͖̒̐̕͝d̶͔̱̥̄͠ ̶̛̙̲̥̲͑͐̀̕͜w̴̨͇͐̕i̵̳̥̯͇͐ͅt̶̖̘̪̎͠ȟ̵̙̓̚ ̵̱͉̭̼̓̔̅ḯ̶̡͓̠͠ņ̷͚͇̍̌̽͒ņ̶̧̥͂̆͂͒ͅò̸͉̺͎̜̈́̚̕c̸̤̹̗̗̎̍͋͘e̵̮͌̏̍͠͝n̴̗̈́̈́̃c̷͕̼̤̞̆̀̈́̕͜ě̷͕͔́ͅ, he instead skimmed over their guardians.
Neji thought he should feel jealousy, but he hadn't felt much of anything in a very long time. Ḏ̵̠̘̊̕e̶͖͓̎a̶̢͉̭̩̻͐d̷̝͌̿̊̀͝ ̵̢̬̯̱̥́̍͌͘d̸̛͇͖̎ë̴̞̭́a̸͎͆̿͝d̴̰̃̈́̇ ̴̡̥̮̟̟͆̕͠d̶̲̘̩͋̓̀̂̋e̸͈͎͒͌͌͗͠ā̷̭̖d̶͈̣͕͈͗
A splash of color stood out, vibrant against the gray.. but only for a moment. His attention waned and as it did a final thought stood out.
Pink, what a horrible color for stealth.
He turned away dismissively, and that was how it was, for months. F̵̢͓͔̹̙̜̘͉͆͂̎̈́̉̌͗́̂͜ö̵̬̰̪̣̪̲̱̂̍̎̔̂̓̍́̓̉̓̚r̷̪͈͚̼̾̀̈́͘͘͘ͅë̸͙̟́͐͛̃̿̌̎v̵̡͔͚̯̹̻̗͇͓̬͆̆̎̆̈͝ȩ̸̖̐̊̈́͒͑̓̇͆̅r̶̡̧̛̺͉̳͉̘̲̥̣̫̱̋̊͂͑͆̎̃̐̈́͋̚͝ͅ
Emptiness, mind numbing lessons, practice with weapons he would never use. Kata of styles he would never use. Pointless, pointless.
Until the day the students were to face each other in spars, to show what they had learned over these months.
And so that pink crossed his gaze again, and he remembered the fussing parents. She had people to lose. People who could lose her.
Something simmered in his chest like pity and grief as he decided to spare this civilian's life by showing her how dangerous her future would be. How long had it been since he felt anything? i̷̙̜̯̗͖̽̓͠ţ̷̤̻̝̒͘̚͘̚ ̷̨̮͓̣̾̆̓͐ẅ̴́̾̓͜a̷̲̜͌̂͌͠͝s̶̡̗̎ ̶̫͓̙͒̂̐́a̶̞̝͙̹̞̓̋̚l̵̢̙͈̬̭̄̔̐͘m̶͙̙̙̜̎́́̚̕ŏ̸̠̘͗̆̔s̴͇̠̼̘̉͗̈́̄ͅţ̵̗͉͍̅̓̑ ̵̦͉͉̽̌̀͋ţ̷̪̘̥̖̈́͂̚̚̚o̸͍͑̿̎o̷̡̨̮̺̐ ̶͉̻͌͋̌̓̉ṁ̵̧̦̋͊̾ù̴̧̹̦̙̫c̸͉͚̰͉̀͑̈̋ḧ̴̩͕̰͎̦́̇̃͘͝
He would devastate her in battle today so she would go home and give up on this death trap. He wouldn't even need to remove his kimono for it. The strong versus the weak.
She was a civilian. It was her fate to lose. Better she lose here, than lose her life. Ṅ̴͉̬͝ö̷̢̲̠̜̝͖͚̹̔̄͝ͅt̷̛̳̪̠̖́̍͊̈́ ̸̦̯͐̒͑̌̑̈́̽̓̿͝a̶̡̡̻̱̱̮̜͙̦̭͈͓̾̉̓̑̉͌́̍͗͝g̵̥̽̏̓͗́͘͝a̴̖͕̭͕̜̭̣͊́́̀͊̊̀͛̏̕͝ͅͅi̴̢̢̪̲̮͇̰̯͍̻̲͋̓̀̌̈́̊ṉ̷̗̐̀̀ͅ.̷̢̧̞̙̝̋̉̏̀͐͒̒͝
And so he stepped forward and his shadow stretched even further.
Ĥ̸̦̜̹̤̘̥̗̻̺̳͙͚͉̜͐͐̉͗̅͊̀̏͆̊̿̀́̍͑͛͊̆̎͐̀ȩ̸̘͎̩̪̅̅͌̐͑̉̑̽́̆̉̽̀̌̈̾̓͆̚͜͠͝ ̸̛̼̞͚͉̦̪̟͈̜̠̗͕̙̖̀́͌͌̐̅̾͛̔̂̍̅̚̚ẘ̶̛͍̱̘͎̥̤̣̣͚̬͙̬̟̊̈́̓̀͌̌̒͆̇̎̓͛̀̈́̌̾͘͜ȧ̶̧̺̙̩͇̯͉̫̻̝͔̤̭̼̱͖̬̮̫̦̟̘̦̭͉̂̉͑͐͌̉͗̀̓̉̚s̴̡̡̢̨̧͕̥͍̰̠͎͔̙͎̜̥̲͈̣͉̝̺̈́̇̽̑͐̈́̇̽ͅ ̸̧̧̧̛̥͇̩̲̞̬̯͎̫̻̣̌̑̇̈́̅̋̈́̅̉̉̿̈́̐̿̒͘̕n̷̢̡̨̧̙͎͔̟͇̜̯͈͖̬̱̱̯͎̹͔̻͐̌̽̋́̍͑̊̎̎͂́̒͐̋̐̔̌̕͘͠͠e̵̢̡̨̨͚̰̪̟̤̟̺̲̖̦͕̠̜̾͆͗̐̿̀̈́̑̇̄̓̂̃͝v̵̡̢̧̧̧͎̩̪̗̠̘̠͇̮̣̠͇̻̘͈̾̿ͅͅͅͅȩ̸̡͚̳͙̫̹͙͙̣̠͉̝͗̂͌͊̂̐r̸̳̜̞̪̱̎̿ͅ ̴̡̡̺͎̻͙̞͇͙̺̞͉̘̹̬̺͙̀̐̈́͗͗͆͂̆͛̈́́̃͂͒t̵͇̗̤̯͓̦̣̮̣̝͕̥̑̅̀̂̄̊̎̊͛̇͛̆͛͌̑̚̚̕r̵̻͍͔͇̦͖̺͓̙̖̞̖͋̈͆̓̎̽̀̓̀̈̍͆̂̕ų̷̱̳̘͖̫̋̄̏͑̉͌̕͜͝͠l̸̨̢̫͙̹͓͚͔̤̻̰̝̥̮̬̮͍̭̮̫̣̔̈́̉̓̔͌̃̄̉̉̓͑̀͌̈́̈́͆̋͂̓̚̚̚͜͠ÿ̶͓͙͕͚̤̺́̈̀̅̏̃̈́͑͛̽͐̈́̎̃̃͗̃̚͝͝͠ͅ ̸̧͎̹̱͎̀̌͗͆̓͗̃͆̎̽̏̈̏̈́́́̑̀̓͊̌̕̚̕ä̸̡̢͔̩̻̩̻̬̞̞̝̮͍̜̮̗̞̣͈̫͉̱̻̅̈̀̎͊̋̈͆̚͠͠l̶̨̡͕̜̱̘͙͇̠̜͕̰͍̻̳̂̽͗́̅̾̎̂́͛͐̽͑̄̇̾́̎͒̿͜͝͝ͅo̷̢̦͙̦͍̳̰̻̬̫̝̥͐̅̎́͝͝n̴̨̥̣͍̬̯̰͔̱̭̥̲͇̑͂̾̔͆̅͘͜͝ͅͅȩ̴̧̥̟̪̰̘̬͓̼͇̬̪̰͓͕͚̬̗̮̀͛̎̋̍̒̈́́̒̈́͐̏̅͛͛̒͂̓̕͘̚̚͝͝.̵̡̢̧̛̗̲̭̟̮͇̰̻̹͈̭̜͚̙̱̉̿͛̓̉̔̈͛́̈̍͊̆̾́͘̚̚
