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Fate. Destiny. Death.
These were the things Neji Hyūga understood. He'd scrawled them onto his very soul, as melodramatic as that may sound, enduring the slings and arrows from his peers as he focused intently on his own betterment for spites sake. Fate, destiny, death, those three things absorbed and encapsulated his everything. Even after a blunt reassessment of his worldview, aided by someone who the old him had casually tossed aside, he all too often found himself the odd man out. The perpetual loner, even in a crowded room.
Which was to say, in short, that Neji wasn't much for parties.
The room swelled and rippled like a stormy ocean, people darting to and fro from group to group, food and drink in hand. It wasn't entirely unfamiliar to him, he'd been a part of similar events as a youth when the Hyuga compound had opened its gates to like minded aristocrats, but unlike then there was a vague air of informality. Less structure for one, and certainly less hidebound social stigmas. It had its drawbacks however, money was on show, but it was vulgar, obvious.
As was their apprehension of him.
His erstwhile allies, 'Heroes' as they dubbed themselves, were infrequently mobbed. Well wishers, grifters, and sycophants working their trade with silver tongue or less savoury means. He, meanwhile, had been entirely unapproached for the last two hours, save for the city's Mayor making a brief thanks to each member of the local Protectorate and Wards branch. The politics were understandable, if nauseating, but Neji was no politician.
Still, he took some meagre comfort in the fierceness of his reputation. Less than a month since his arrival and people knew he was a force to be reckoned with. Something the dumb youth he'd been would have revelled in. Now though-
"Status report, Konoha?"
The ear-buds crackle drew Neji from his musings, and a quick scan with the Byakugan was promptly followed by a discreet tap of the hidden transponder built into his helm. While Neji had used radio communications in the past, it was still shocking to him how smooth the signal was with his Squad Leader.
"Konoha here, all is well, Armsmaster."
Armsmaster was unusual, Neji considered, as he ghosted between chatting crowds, his slow walk ending at the gallery's large windows overlooking Brockton Bay's cityscape.
All these 'Parahumans' were bizarre to Neji, broken people gifted bloodline limit abilities on the whim of some laughing deity, but that man in particular stood out.
There was something in Armsmaster he'd seen before, back home, back before the War and...his arrival. A hunger. The man wanted success, to crush his enemies and sweep the city free of all who stood against him. The will of fire, perhaps? Albeit tempered with greed. Even in his short time here he could tell the man's aims weren't always as altruistic as he claimed, though Neji appreciated the man's pseudo-military bearing. He was one of the few who did, infact.
It was something that grated, in all honesty. He was a soldier, he'd been so for the last six years of his life, yet despite that everything was so lax here, soft even. Public relations, non lethal takedowns, costumes.
Staring out at the monoliths of steel and concrete that made up Brockton Bay, Neji could only shake his head at the reflection looking back.
The layered plates of his helm had been acceptable, especially in regards to visibility with or without the Byakugan, but that was just about the only good point, everything else being an utter travesty. The buffoons in charge of his appearance had recoiled at the remnants of his old uniform, instead of leaning towards the practical nature of it they'd focused on their own requirements. While he'd never met the man, a local Parahuman ‘ninja’ was a real issue in one of the cities pre-eminent gangs, and despite Neji's quiet protestations about the truth of his profession, they'd made it abundantly clear he was to be a counterpart to this ‘Oni Lee’.
He understood their logic.
He still hated it.
White.
So. Much. White.
At the very least it was armoured. Thinly, but every little helped. Some of his compatriots practically had a death wish by comparison, he was sure of it.
"Could be worse," he muttered, more to himself than any of the civilians passing by as he pulled on his costume top beneath the ridiculous long coat they'd saddled him with. "It could have been a green jumpsuit."
His laugh was bitter, loud enough to draw the attention of a few partygoers who he quickly waved away with little reluctance. What could they understand, really? He was Neji Hyūga, Shinobi. Yet all they saw was someone different. Something different.
Sighing, he turned away from the window, intent on joining the milling crowd once more, before halting suddenly, mid step.
Had that really been...
He stiffened, pouring chakra steadily into his now active Byakugan. Its range had been steadily growing since his arrival on 'Earth Bet' as they'd so dramatically dubbed it. He'd hit twelve-hundred metres a few days ago, and was now putting it to work, beaming his all consuming gaze out into the darkness, vision cutting through rock, steel, and flesh.
Hundreds of heat signatures lit up the night, yet it was a small group, steadily approaching, that grabbed his attention. He'd almost missed them at first, only a brief flash of light on steel setting off the paranoia he'd had to cultivate both as a rising ‘genius’ of the Hyūga clan's disposable branch, and as a Shinobi.
Five humans with three large canines in tow.
Neji slapped his transponder hard enough that he felt the few fillings he had rattle.
"Konoha here! Undersiders spotted approaching from two hundred metres away and gaining! Their current trajectory suggests they'll be aiming for the gala!"
Instead of panic, however, Neji was surprised to find a great deal of order. The cities 'great and good' filtering out from the wide hall with relative calm, save for the occasional prod from Miss Militia or Shadow Stalker to get the odd rubbernecker moving. He'd expected less from the civilians of this world, being more used to soft living than those in the Land of Fire. Even as the two capes shuffled their last few hangers on, he found himself nodding in approval.
It wasn't just the ordinary men and women though he approved of. Both Shadow Stalker and Miss Militia he could find little fault in. Yes, they may have had their rough edges, but they would have made fine Shinobi with enough time. Here though they were sadly limited.
"Has the healer girl been evacuated?" Neji asked, approaching the Wards after confirming their foes near-arrival. With this world's lack of chakra, medic-nin were non-existent, and he held some theories as to why, theories that required the girl alive.
"Yes, Konoha, my sister has been evacuated," snapped the floating girl, her peers chattering as they tried to convey some information to Assault. He was the only member of his team who'd foolishly attempted to convince the youths to also evacuate, and suffered accordingly.
Neji nodded cooly, returning to his Protectorate allies who were already forming up at various exit points, the attached PRT members toting their cumbersome foam cannons with a mixture of fear and eagerness.
It was embarrassing, honestly. He tried to remember names, but the language here was difficult. Backwards. Japanese and Chinese held some similarities, but English? Bah, a mess of contradictions. Simple titles though? Far easier. Assault. Armsmaster. Velocity.
Letting the thoughts dissolve, he paired off with Miss Militia to the east of their target's suggested entrance, the women giving him little more than a nod and a grunt. Neji took point as always, while her power manifested as one of the myriad of unsettling firearms this world had. He meanwhile lowered himself down into a familiar stance, one arm extended forward, the other behind him.
Counting the seconds aloud till their arrival, Neji found his heartbeat slowing as he entered an almost zen-like state, the readiness for combat he'd endured for almost all his life. After killing at the age of fourteen, surviving battle after battle, and taking part in a world war, one he knew in his heart-of-hearts his friend would end, this was little more than another day.
"Contact in three...two...one!"
An explosion of glass heralded the Undersiders' arrival, monstrous dogs practically blasting in through the Forsberg Galleries skyline. It might have been impressive, even awe inspiring, if the theatrically dressed one hadn't botched his landing, tumbling off a dog that reminded Neji of an Inuzuka experiment gone wrong.
Groans from the fool aside, a pregnant pause filled the room, his team quietly awaiting their enemies first move. In all honesty it didn't matter, they had them surrounded, a group of two on each four points, with Armsmaster confidently taking the centre alone. Greater odds had been defied, Neji knew, however. He'd done so himself, and held back cautiously.
“Holy shit! Not doing that again! Fucking intense…” gasped the blonde girl in a catsuit, sliding off her dog with shaky legs. It took a moment of her scanning the room to steal whatever her next quip was meant to be, a soft "Fuck" echoing across the large room.
"Yes, you are. Fucked that is," Armsmaster awkwardly barked, leveling his halberd at the group already leaking darkness and insects. "Now stand down and we don't have to make this any uglier than it has to be."
His Byakugan active, Neji watched the group carefully, taking notes. With a chakra pool already a third empty he couldn't afford to make mistakes.
'Grue' was the darkness generator he remembered, eying the tallest of the enemy, shadows streaming off of his leather clad body. It wasn't entirely disconcerting, his eyes could even see through it, though the vision was quite hazy. Even now the wisps were difficult to parse, as if looking through mist. The knockoff Aburame was no issue either, similarly the blonde and the fool could be left for later, but the team's dogs...they were odd. The controller had somehow encased smaller hounds in flesh, something that brought back memories of his youth and a battle to the near-death. A bad omen indeed.
"Can't a girl take her friends on a jaunty evening stroll, Armsmaster?" The blonde said, her smile hitting Neji like a punch to the gut.
The tension held, both sides at a standstill, yet all Neji could see was the girl's smiling face.It was familiar. So, so familiar, yet...
Memory was shattered by a cacophony of screams.
"Brutus, attack!", "What the fuck!?" "Bitch no!"
Neji knew he contained multitudes, as did everyone, yet when you boiled him down, cast off all the detritus, he was a simple thing. A screw, a nail, a tool. You applied him with pressure, then calmly waited until either he broke or the surface did. It was, he felt, one of the few things that kept him sane in this world and the last.
Combat was another familiar thing, and for that he'd at least thank this Hellhound, even as her monstrous dog leapt for his throat. Better to work with his hands than ponder on the other girl.
A friendly face wasn't what you expected when fighting villains.