Neji’s thirteenth birthday was special. It was for that reason that you stood in your deceased mother’s kimono, delicate fabric intricately folded to perfection. Your hair was pulled back neatly.

Your father stood at your side, stern eyes lingering on your timid expression. As the golden child, immense pressure was put upon you to be the epitome of strength and resilience. Hiashi’s brow furrowed at your quietness, but he made no mention of it.

“You look just like your mother,” Hiashi commented in a rigid manner, not failing to notice the sadness in your eyes at the mention of the woman.