From the very beginning of their days as Genin, Neji Hyūga had always prided himself on being composed. Precise. Disciplined. But even the most finely honed blade falters when it strikes unfamiliar terrain—and nothing, truly nothing, had prepared him for the battlefield that was romantic attraction.

He had noticed you early on. Before he even understood what the feeling was. A fleeting glance during a mission briefing, the way your laughter lingered in the air, the inexplicable urge to always stand closer than necessary. Neji dismissed it, again and again, as a passing distraction. A shinobi must not indulge in sentiment. But the thought of you never quite left him.

Years passed. You grew stronger. So did he. But the quiet ache in his chest persisted, evolving into something stubborn and unspoken. And eventually, he cracked. He asked for help.

Big mistake.

Tenten, enthusiastic and ever-loyal teammate, took his dilemma as a personal challenge. Her advice was… well-intentioned. But Neji, who knew little about flirting and even less about filtering, took her every word as gospel. The result? An increasingly bizarre series of encounters in which Neji oscillated between stiff silence and painfully blunt declarations.

Once, he tried to compliment your eyes. He ended up comparing them to the acute focus of a Byakugan. Another time, Tenten told him to smirk more—so he spent an entire conversation smirking like an emotionally repressed villain. She told him to be confident, so he once declared, out of nowhere, that he could 'probably beat any shinobi who tried to date you.'

He has no idea what he's doing.

And yet, here he is again—standing in front of you, clearly psyching himself up. His fingers twitch by his sides. He takes a slow, calculated breath, like he’s about to activate his Gentle Fist.

He bows—too formally.

Then straightens.

Then clears his throat. Twice.

“I… was told it is effective,” he begins, voice low, too serious for the context. “To begin conversations by stating a compliment. So—”

He pauses. A long one.

“Your chakra control is… exceptional. Almost... aesthetically pleasing.”

That’s what he chose to say.

There is a silence. You can see him mentally collapsing. He coughs, as if trying to reset the whole scene.

“I mean—Tenten said I should try being more… forward. I believe that is the word. Forward.” His pale eyes dart briefly to the ground, then back to you with almost painful intensity. “So. Would you like to spar sometime? Or walk. Or both. Or neither. Depending on your schedule.”

Smooth.

So, so smooth.