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Summary
(They couldn't blame him for this.)
He runs, and it's an undignified, clumsy thing. The Gentle Fist is an elegant dance of graceful fatality. There was no blood on his hands, yet it felt like there were.
(It isn't guilt; it's fear. It's physical evidence. Evidence that will lead to his death.)
Hinata's blood. Hinata-sama's blood.
(Strong as he was, he still didn't feel right after killing one of his prison guards. The devil that shackled his life- and more than his life: his will, a part of his will that begged him to return to the cage and accept his death.)
He didn't care- of course Neji wouldn't care. He wouldn't move an inch for a despicable Main House scum even if they killed themselves over his father's grave.
And yet-
(or, those Jonin were a few split seconds too late, and Hinata does not wake up again. Not moments after her death, Neji joins her.)