Chapter Text
ACT I: The Foundations of Loathing (and Longing)
‘Cold genius, strong but emotionally distant. Probably has issues. Wouldn’t want to fight him.’
That was Nara Shikamaru’s first impression of Hyuga Neji. He is strong and seems to be a good option for teammates during missions. But the cons outweigh the pros of being in the same team with the guy, with how Neji always talks about the predestined fate of a person upon birth. Like it was some doctrine of some kind of religious cult, it’s too annoying and bothersome for him. He would rather have Naruto in his team, who always follows his emotions rather than the proper procedure.
However, the more he learned about the older Hyuga, the more intrigued he became. The more he said that it was too troublesome and would only be complicated if he got involved with a guy who’s a Branch member who obviously hates their clan system and Main family, the more he couldn’t himself from get involved one way or another.
Shikamaru never believed in fate being predestined even before the person is born; however, he couldn’t help himself but think that maybe it was heaven’s will and his fate to always be involved with Hyuga Neji.
Hyuga Neji, the most gifted and talented member of the Hyuga clan, albeit just a Branch member. He was like the hardest and most rare puzzle that Shikamaru had ever known. Yes, it was troublesome, but not solving the puzzle challenge presented in front of him, the Heaven’s Will is more troublesome. He just knew that his mind would never let him rest in peace if he didn’t solve this piece.
Shikamaru wasn’t sure when curiosity had turned into something more—something binding, like gravity. He was like a moth who can’t help itself but fly near the flames (Neji) despite knowing it was never a good idea. Neji was a puzzle, sure, but he was also a contradiction Shikamaru couldn’t look away from. And now, standing in the gallery above the arena, with the sun baking the stone and the air heavy with anticipation, he was about to see that contradiction unravel in real time.
The arena floor shimmered in the heat, white stone walls casting harsh shadows over the circle of dust and blood below. From the viewing platform above, the Genin gathered in varying degrees of interest and tension. The Chunin exam had already delivered on spectacle, but this match? This was different. This is a battle rooted in a century-old feud between the Main and Branch houses of the Hyuga Clan.
Two Hyuga, who are like fire and water, stood opposite each other on the battlefield. The silence before it began was thin and sharp, almost deafening.
Dust swirled in lazy spirals as Hyuga Neji stepped forward–– relaxed, arms at his side, head high, not a single crease in his posture. Poised, pristine, and radiating the kind of confidence that dared you to call it arrogance. His Byakugan was already activated, veins thick around his eyes.
Cold. Cynical. Dismissive. Yet behind the jagged edges, there was a strange, quiet beauty—like frost glinting in morning light.
Across from him, Hinata Hyuga stood with her shoulders tucked in, hands trembling just slightly, as if the stillness between them might crack with the weight of what neither dared to say. But Shikamaru could see her trying. That counted for something. Her own eyes activated, too, but they didn’t carry the same edge. She bowed low, respectful, sincere. Shikamaru noticed that Neji didn’t return it.
‘Arrogant bastard.’ Shikamaru exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. Not out of patience—he'd run out of that hours ago—but because anything louder felt like it might tip the balance.
“I never thought that I would have a fight with you, Hinata-sama.”
“Neji nii-san,” Hinata greeted the older boy across from her, her voice almost inaudible. More likely to be mistaken as a passing wind if it weren’t for all the shinobi present paying their full attention to the match.
Neji’s eyes flickered to her, cool and measured. He didn't respond immediately, his gaze lingering on her, as if assessing whether her words held any real weight. His expression remained neutral, a mask honed by years of practice. Hinata swallowed. She hadn’t expected a warm greeting, but somehow, this silence was worse. It felt heavier than the words she feared to speak.
“You’re trembling,” Neji finally said, his voice cutting through the charged silence, sharper than she expected. He was mocking her. It was a statement as cold and precise as his every movement. Hinata flinched slightly, her breath caught in her throat. The words echoed in her mind, not as an insult but as a reminder of everything she couldn't change, everything she was still trying to overcome. She stood still, waiting for something—anything—from him. But Neji merely watched her, his stance rigid and controlled.
“Nii-san?” Sakura asked, her voice laced with disbelief.
“Huh? Those two are siblings?” Naruto added, his eyes wide as he glanced between Neji and Hinata, his voice practically bubbling with surprise.
Those two are always rowdy and loud. How can they always be that loud?
Shikamaru, who had been quietly observing the match, heard the exclamations from Sakura and Naruto. He looked over at them, a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. Not because they didn’t know, but because it seemed so obvious to him. He turned his attention back to the Hyuuga cousins, noting the way Hinata stood with her head lowered, her gaze barely meeting Neji's, while he remained unmoving, like a statue carved from stone.
Naruto’s voice broke through again, louder now, as he directed the question to their teacher, Hatake Kakashi. “Kakashi-sensei, are they really siblings? I thought Neji was... well, you know, a distant relative or something.”
Kakashi, who had been unusually quiet up until now, blinked lazily before responding. “Those two descended from one of the most honorable old families in the Hidden Leaf, the Hyuga clan. But they are not siblings.”
‘One of the most honorable clans, hmm? It seems like they are stuck-up and troublesome people. Better not bother myself with getting involved with anyone from that clan. Hinata is more than enough.’
Shikamaru rolled his eyes at Kakashi's vague answer. Of course, it wasn’t that simple. Nothing ever was with the Hyuuga clan.
“Then, how are they related?”
“Well, the relation of a head family and a branch family…that may be the appropriate way to say it.”
“Main family and Branch family?” Naruto repeated, his brow furrowed in confusion.
Shikamaru couldn’t help but release a loud sigh, clearly annoyed by the unnecessary complexity of the situation. His hand brushed through his hair as he thought. ‘What the hell is a main family and a branch family? What’s with these noble clans and their societal class complexity? It’s like they're playing some kind of weird, high-stakes family game.’
“Hinata-san is from the head family. In other words, a person from the main household, and Neji-kun is from a branch family that is descended from that family,” came a new voice.
Shikamaru’s eyes slid toward the source—a rather funny-looking man supporting a bowlcut and a green training suit similar to his Jonin mentor. It seems like he’s one of the teammates of the arrogant Hyuga. He looked like a walking contradiction, somehow both intense and overly earnest.
“So it’s a fight between families. It must be uneasy for both of them…” Sakura muttered, seemingly worried.
“Hey, Shikamaru,” Chouji called from beside him, clearly puzzled. “Why didn’t he bow back? Aren’t they relatives?”
Shikamaru glanced at Chouji, then at Neji, who was still standing across the field, perfectly poised.
“Who knows? Maybe he’s just an arrogant, mannerless brat who thinks he’s above everyone else.” Shikamaru murmured, just loud enough for his two teammates to hear it, the words slipping out with a touch of irritation. The whole situation had gotten more annoying than he’d expected, and Neji’s icy demeanor didn’t help matters.
Or so he thought.
The next thing he knew, his eyes met the sharp, unwavering gaze of Neji himself.
Neji’s expression was unreadable, yet there was something dangerous in the way his eyes locked onto Shikamaru’s. Emotionless? Maybe. But if looks could kill, Shikamaru was pretty sure he’d be six feet under by now.
Shikamaru blinked, his breath catching for a split second, before he casually turned his gaze back to the match, pretending as if the whole interaction hadn’t just happened.
It was hard to confirm, but it seemed like the older Hyuuga had rolled his eyes at him, just enough to be unmistakable, before turning his attention away.
“Tch,” Shikamaru muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “What a pain.”
“I’ve heard that for a long time now,” Rock Lee—Bowlcut, as Shikamaru had half-heartedly dubbed him—interjected, his voice brimming with energy. “There have been various incidents between the head family and the branch family, and now their relationship isn’t on very good terms.”
Shikamaru barely gave him a glance, nodding noncommittally. He’d heard the rumors too, but the whole situation still felt like it was too far removed from his own world. His eyes flicked back to the two Hyuuga cousins across the field.
“It’s gonna begin,” Kakashi’s voice interrupted, halting the conversation between his students and Rock Lee as he spoke in his usual detached manner. The match was about to start, and the silence that followed was thick with anticipation.
Naruto, suddenly caught up in the atmosphere, leaned forward against the railing, his eyes bright and filled with determination. His voice was loud, almost desperate. “Come on, Hinata! You’ve got this!”
Shikamaru glanced over at Naruto, incredulous.
“You really think she’s got a chance?” he asked, his tone bordering on disbelief. He had nothing against Hinata, but the odds weren’t in her favor. Not with Neji’s cold, methodical nature.
Naruto didn’t even spare him a glance, his gaze fixed firmly on the match below.
“I don’t care!” he snapped, his voice sharp with conviction. “She’s trying. That’s what matters!”
Shikamaru sighed, leaning back slightly, his hands tucked behind his head. “Yeah, well, sometimes trying isn’t enough,” he muttered, though he couldn’t help but admire Naruto’s stubbornness. It was the kind of unwavering belief Shikamaru had trouble summoning, even in his own battles.
It was stupid and idealistic but Shikamaru didn’t say so, avoiding the consequence if he piss Naruto off because even a stupid one knows how not to counter Naruto. Heck, he will surely go on a long rant about being idealistic is not stupid, if he even knows the meaning of that word. Shikamaru doubts it.
The proctor signaled. That match began.
And Neji attacked.
It wasn’t flashy–no wide arcs or exaggerated movements. Just a sudden glide, the flick of a wrist, a strike too fast to follow. Hinata blocked barely. Stumbled. Regained her footing. Neji was already circling again.
He leaned lazily against the railing, hands in his pockets, pretending to be less interested than he actually was. Below them, Hyuga Neji moved like a shadow across the arena floor—calm, precise, almost mechanical. No wasted movement. Not a single flicker of hesitation.
“Tch,” Shikamaru muttered, narrowing his eyes.
The guy was good. Really good. He didn’t fight like someone trying to prove a point—he fought like someone who already knew he’d win.
Across the way, Choji popped another chip in his mouth and said, “Man, that guy’s intense.”
That was one way to put it. Shikamaru watched as Neji struck a pressure point in Hinata’s shoulder, making her stumble. The hit wasn’t brutal, but it was merciless. Controlled. Like shutting off a switch.
Shikamaru didn’t expect much from the match—no one really did. The clan prodigy versus the shy cousin who rarely spoke above a whisper. Predictable, he thought. But what unfolded was something else entirely.
Neji didn't just fight to win. He dismantled. Every strike was precise, cold, and surgical. Every word he spoke bled cruelty—disguised as fate, draped in the language of inevitability.
"You should give up," Neji said, his voice emotionless. “You were born a failure. You cannot change that.”
The words hung heavy in the air.
“What a dick,” Kiba growled under his breath. Akamaru gave a tiny growl of agreement from inside his coat.
“Hinata’s doing her best,” Ino said, arms crossed, biting her lip. “He doesn’t have to humiliate her.”
“He believes what he’s saying,” Shina added quietly.
Shikamaru’s jaw tightened. He hated this—hated how Neji moved like a blade that enjoyed being sharp. Hated how he spoke like he’d already measured the worth of everyone around him and found them lacking.
He told himself it was disgust. Pure and clean. The same way you hated a thunderstorm when it broke the silence you liked so much.
But deep down, something twisted. Not admiration—he wouldn’t allow it that name. Not yet.
Hatred, he settled on. It was easier. Cleaner. Less embarrassing.
“Scary,” Sakura whispered beside him, arms hugged tight to her chest. “He’s a little scary, isn’t he?”
Shikamaru’s eyes didn’t leave the arena. Not as Hinata coughed blood, not as she staggered and refused to fall. Not as Neji sneered, untouched.
His eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. “Scary?” he muttered. “He’s a jackass.”
He didn’t mean to say it aloud. But it was the only word that felt close enough to how wrong this all was. The words came out harsher than he intended, brittle with something unspoken.
Genius or not, the guy was locked in some kind of internal war, the kind you cover up by acting like the world owes you.
A tactical nightmare, that one, eyes that see through everything, chakra control that shuts you down before you even know what hit you. But also? Rigid. Predictable. Too bound up in his own philosophy to see the angles he was missing.
Neji struck again—faster this time. Palm to shoulder. Palm to chest. Hinata gasped, staggered, and coughed. Blood splattered the floor.
“Hinata!” Naruto screamed from the railing.
Below, she didn’t fall. She swayed, fists trembling in front of her, and then—
She moved forward.
“Damn,” Kiba whispered. “She’s still standing.”
“She’s fighting back,” Ino said in disbelief.
She was—sort of. Her hands were shaky, and her stance was flawed, but she stepped into her strikes like she meant it. Like something in her refused to die quietly.
Even Neji seemed to pause. Only briefly. Then he spoke again, with venomous calm.
“You think effort can defy destiny? That’s why you’ll always be weak. Because you don’t understand. People like you were born to lose.”
Shikamaru’s fists were in his pockets, but he imagined what it would feel like to punch Neji in the mouth. He told himself it was because Neji was cruel. Because he didn’t believe in people. Because he was hurting a girl who couldn’t even hate him back.
But there was something else too. Something that itched at the base of his skull. The calm in Neji’s eyes, the brutal elegance of his technique, the absolute conviction in his voice. He was terrifying—and not just because of what he was doing to Hinata.
“Hyuga Neji,” he murmured to himself, watching carefully. “Byakugan. Gentle Fist. Arrogant.”
The way Neji looked at Hinata—like she was already beneath him—irked him more than he expected. Not that Shikamaru was the type to jump in and defend someone for no reason, but still... There was something about that tone . That whole fate speech.
Shikamaru didn’t want to name the thing that made him look twice. So he called it hatred.
Hinata moved again—too slow. Neji was faster. Always faster. He struck her chest with open palms, stopping chakra points with mechanical precision. Her body spasmed.
“Stop the fight!” Naruto shouted.
“Proctor!” Kiba added.
“She's going to die!” Sakura cried.
And still, Hinata tried to stand.
Shikamaru looked at her, and then at Neji, unmoved and unreadable. The match was over. They all knew it. But Neji raised his hand again.
“Proctor—” Lee’s voice, desperate.
The jounins moved just in time to block Neji’s final strike.
“Winner: Hyuuga Neji.”
Hinata collapsed.
Blood spread beneath her like a slow blossom.
It was the end of the battle between the two Hyuga. Two Hyuga yet have two polar opposite personalities and fates. A heir and a disposable pawn who can be discarded at a flick of the hand for the Main family. One who is calm like water, who tries to extinguish the flame of rage of her cousin, and the one who is burning with rage ends up burning those who actually care about him.
No matter how hard the water works in extinguishing the flame of rage, if the fire doesn’t want to be put out, then no one can help it stop its own flames. You can not save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.
Silence hung in the stadium.
Then Naruto shouted. “I’m going to beat the crap out of you! You hear me, Neji?!”
Neji didn’t answer. He walked away with that same calm step, unhurried, unbothered, like none of this meant anything.
“Scary?” Shikamaru said again, as if tasting the word. “No. He’s a jackass.”
And still—traitorously—his gaze lingered on Neji a moment too long. He didn’t know what he was looking for. Maybe it was the way Neji’s eyes didn’t waver. Maybe it was the stillness. Maybe it was the storm beneath it.
He would never admit it.