- an impracticality -

It was happening again.

He is swimming—was swimming the right word? Neji isn't sure. His surroundings are blurred, as if he is submerged in water (hence the swimming). But she's here. She's always here.

She is floating above him, suspended, it seems, by some unknown force. They lock eyes, and Neji lifts a hand slowly to touch her cheek. She shies away from him, a teasing look in her brown eyes.

He settles back on the riverbed—is he inside a river?—and gazes up at her. They are both naked. Like always.

After a moment, she extends her arm down to him. Her fingertips ghost over his forehead, his nose, his mouth, never quite touching him.

Neji wants to say something, to call out, to ask her name, to beg. But when his mouth opens, only an air bubble escapes, rising to her face.

She smiles down at him and says his name. It is muffled and echoey from the water, but to him it sounds like a song, like a sunrise, like a promise made and kept.

"Neji."

He wakes in a cold sweat. Next to him, Sakura shifts in her sleep, mumbling something unintelligible. He takes a few deep breaths to calm his heartbeat and turns onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

What is this? he thinks, forehead creased.

His gaze wanders to the clock on his nightstand and Neji grimaces. 3:34 AM. His mouth tightens, and he moves again, lining himself up next to Sakura. She sleeps on, undisturbed. Neji watches her for a long moment, still trying to make sense of the dream and his muddled thoughts.

The minutes stretch on, and eventually, Neji feels himself beginning to drift off. He slides an arm over Sakura's hip and sighs, falling asleep.

He's tried to ignore it, of course. He's meditated. He's scoured the Internet for clues to his bizarre dreams, to no avail. He'd even once, in a fit of desperation, searched for brown-eyed, brunette women in his zip code (as one can imagine, this was not necessarily helpful). But his efforts yield nothing. She remains a mystery, and Neji's confusion deepens.

"I keep seeing someone."

Lee raises his thick eyebrows. "You mean besides Sakura?"

Neji shakes his head, shooting Lee a look. "Not like that. It's—I've been seeing someone in my dreams."

Lee's head tilts to the side in interest, his dark hair swishing. "In your dreams?"

Neji nods, frowning as he fiddles with his steaming cup of tea.

"Who is it?" Lee prompts.

"I don't know. A girl . . . or a woman, I suppose."

Lee leans forward, his eyebrows furrowing in bemused interest. "You haven't met her before? What does she look like?"

Neji sighs. The image of her springs to his mind so easily—like a face he had seen hundreds of times, though he hadn't, not really. He can't bring himself to describe her out loud; he reaches for a pen in his coat pocket and pulls a spare napkin across the table.

He'd always been an adept artist, though his skills were much more traditional than Hinata or Hanabi. His sketches had always been somewhat sloppy, feeling much more comfortable with paints and a brush. He quickly draws the planes of her face, hesitating for only a breath before inking in her dimples. His pen flies across the napkin—her fringed bangs, her round chin, her expressive, laughing eyes.

Truthfully, he wants to keep going: her strong, muscled arms, her trim waist, the curve of her hips, her slender legs. But he stops himself before he gets carried away, pushing the napkin across to Lee, and putting his pen away.

Lee studies the likeness for a long moment before lifting his gaze back to Neji. "Neji—are you sure you've never seen this woman before? This is a detailed portrait. . ."

Neji shakes his head, looking out the window, his thoughts tumultuous.

"Maybe you could put out a missing person's report."

Neji grimaces. "I don't even know if she exists. Maybe she's someone I dreamed up."

Lee taps the napkin thoughtfully. "Maybe you have seen her before, and your brain keeps remembering. Are you sure—?"

"I don't know her, Lee. She's just in my head." Neji looks away from Lee's searching gaze, his mouth tightening. "I know I sound insane," he says softly.

"No, you don't, Neji. Perhaps these dreams are from overworking. Are you feeling stressed about the gallery? Or about Sakura? Perhaps your brain is trying to tell you something."

Neji doesn't have the heart to tell Lee about the casualness of his relationship with Sakura, and work was normal as usual—nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing he wasn't capable of handling. He shakes his head in answer.

Lee's forehead creases, his head cocking to the side in thought. "Have you tried looking for her?"

Neji purses his lips. He is not telling Lee about his Internet search history—he'd rather die. Instead he says, "I've looked where I can. But I don't even know her name. I don't know anything about her. She's . . . illusory."

"She never tells you her name in your dreams?"

Neji shakes his head again, sipping from his cup. Lee stares down at the likeness Neji had drawn on the napkin. He says, voice thoughtful, "Well, whoever she is, she looks interesting."

A wave of yearning rolls through Neji's chest. "She does," he mutters, barely audible as he grasps the napkin and slides it out of sight.

That night, as he's getting ready for bed, he checks his pockets like always. He sighs as he withdraws the slightly crumpled napkin from earlier, laying it out on his desk. He studies the rushed lines he'd done earlier—the attention he'd paid to the round softness of her cheeks, the crinkles he'd formed at the corners of her eyes.

Neji breathes out slowly, edging one finger along her chin, lost in thought.

Neji and Sakura part ways six weeks later, finally running out of excuses. Sakura's long-time crush Sasuke returns to town. When Neji discovers they are dating, only three weeks after their breakup, he can't even find it within himself to be upset.

Lee takes it as a personal affront, seeking constant reassurances that Neji is alright, that his heart isn't broken. Neji quickly tires of Lee's emotional clamor and begins ignoring him altogether, letting his calls drift off into voicemail.

Summer trips along. The gallery sees an upswing in business, due to Neji's involvement in the city's Art in the Park events. The gallery receives a flattering profile in one of the city's more reputable art magazines, and Neji lets photographers traipse through the studio, snapping pictures.

Lee eventually persuades Neji to begin going out to eat a few times a week. Neji spends late nights in the gallery, re-arranging pieces and studying artist submissions, or reviewing finances. He keeps dreaming of the brown-eyed woman.

One night in the middle of August, he jolts awake and sits up in bed, swearing he can smell her on his skin—ink and coffee and honey-scented shampoo. He exhales, long and low, cradling his head in his hands.

It is agonizing—this fantasy. In dreams, she is so so close. Reaching for his fingers, pulling him along after her, or hugging him from behind, her chuckles reverberating through his body. He closes his eyes, and she's just there, waiting for him, her smile easy, eyes bright.

And he can't shake her. He tries taking sleeping pills for a week, but if anything, she becomes even more vivid—so much so that Neji catches himself waking up with her imprinted on his eyes, his hands reaching out for her, tongue heavy with a name he does not know.

As September concludes, Neji returns to the idea that he's undergoing some kind of mental break. He briefly ponders seeing a psychiatrist, when his researching about re-occurring dreams falls through. But he can't quite bring himself to follow through and make an appointment, because . . . what if she disappears? He dismisses it—she isn't a nuisance, after all. He just wants to know what it all means, what does she mean?

Almost outside of his own volition, Neji begins to carefully study almost every woman he meets. His eyes linger, searching the faces of people he passes in the street, his head jolting up every time someone strolls into the gallery. A few times, he embarrasses himself by reaching out to get the attention of a few women who are somewhat similar looking in height and features. But each time he sees their face, or catches their eye, he flushes and apologizes before hurrying in the opposite direction, thwarted.

Once, he is unwise enough to approach someone while he is with Lee. He can feel his friend's gaze on him as he moves to introduce himself to a woman standing with her back to him, her hair a dark brown. She turns at his polite, "Excuse me", and Neji feels the familiar weight of disappointment settle in his chest.

"Yes?"

Neji swallows, smiling tightly. "I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else." Without another word, he returns to Lee's side. He tries to ignore his friend's sympathetic gaze and shrugs him off when he soothingly claps him on the shoulder.

In October, Hinata stops by the gallery one afternoon, her schoolbag thrown over her shoulder. "Neji, do you think I could borrow the gallery one evening this month?"

"For what?" Neji asks, looking away from his computer to consider his cousin.

"I wanted to do a feature on some of the themes I've been doing in class. . ." she trails off, her fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

Neji wordlessly pulls up the gallery's calendar, scanning the appointments. "What kind of feature?"

Hinata steps a little closer to his desk, looking at the calendar over his shoulder. "I have this idea—a field of sunflowers."

Neji bites back a groan. "An installation?" he asks, shooting her a look.

Hinata nods. "Don't worry. I won't make a mess like last time."

Neji turns away, rolling his eyes. Sure, he thinks.

Sensing his doubt, Hinata says, "I promise, Neji. It will be papier-mâchè."

"That sounds interesting," he murmurs, pulling up a free week. "How about this?"

Hinata leans in. "That's fine. Do you think you'll have time to help me set up? It will take a while."

Neji nods and Hinata pats his shoulder gratefully. "Thank you, Neji. I'll send you the flyer as soon as I design it."

She moves to stand in front of the desk, her head tilting as she considers him. "Are you sleeping? You look tired."

Neji absently rubs the skin under his eyes, sighing. "I'm—just dreaming a lot more than usual."

"About what?"

Neji considers if he should tell her; Lee knows after all and besides him, Hinata is his closest confidant. Gingerly, he asks, "Have you ever dreamed of someone consistently?"

Hinata blinks, her expression thoughtful. "No," she says slowly. "Who are you dreaming of?"

Neji shakes his head. "I don't know." Hinata's forehead furrows, and Neji elaborates, "I don't know who it is. I don't know their name, and I've never seen them before."

"But that's impossible, Neji."

"I know," he replies, looking down.

"Well, maybe you have met them before, and you don't remember."

Neji doesn't press the argument—how could he ever begin to explain? So, he nods stiffly, conceding a quiet, "Maybe."

While Hinata's art installation does not make the same kind of mess as her last, it nonetheless leaves the Hyuga gallery in disorder, littered with debris. Globs of glue and strips of paper leave a trail from the gallery's backdoor into the main room. Neji gets to his feet and surveys the room—half of the installation is complete, papier-mâchè stalks growing from the floor. A smirk tugs at his mouth—it truly is a special idea, however simple it seems.

On the floor next to him, Hinata is reattaching a sunflower's head to its stalk. "I invited a few people from class to come by tonight. I hope that's okay."

"It's your exhibition," Neji replies, his hands resting on his hips.

From the backroom, Hanabi wanders in, her hand clutching a cracker. As if she has eyes in the back of her head, Hinata quickly reprimands, "No eating in the gallery, Hanabi. You'll get crumbs on my sunflowers."

Neji smiles a little as Hanabi rolls her eyes at Hinata's back.

A few hours into Hinata's exhibition, Neji is pleased with the turnout. The exhibit itself is free, but Neji had arranged for a bar at the back of the gallery, intending to bring in some revenue.

He stands in a corner of the studio with Hinata at his elbow, trying to overcome her nerves as she nibbles on a fingernail.

"You'll only have to mingle more when you graduate," Neji says to her, his gaze sweeping over the patrons.

"Not necessarily," Hinata replies. "I could become one of those artists that displays their work secretly and then disappears. Maybe we can build a secret room where I can watch everyone's reactions."

Neji snorts, setting his hand on his cousin's shoulder and giving her a small, gentle push. "Events like this are good for exposure. Go on. This is your work, and I'm sure people have questions."

Hinata sighs, shaking her head, but slowly walks away. A moment later, an elderly couple draws her into conversation, their eyes bright with admiration.

Neji watches them for a while before letting his gaze drift once more to the installation, watching as guests wander into the field.

Satisfied with the smiles that rest on their faces, he heads to the back to check on the bartender. "More white wine?" the bartender requests after looking over his stores.

Neji nods and walks towards the small break room near his office, where they keep a refrigerator. He is grasping the bottle from its place when he feels his hair stand on-end. Neji pauses and glances around but sees no one. Shrugging, he returns to the bartender and hands him the bottle.

As Neji is making a loop back to the main gallery room, his uncle catches his attention. "A success, all-in-all, don't you think, Neji?"

"Yes," Neji agrees. "Perhaps when Hinata graduates we can feature some of her work here permanently."

"If it sells," Hiashi says lightly.

Neji purses his lips and decidedly says nothing. Hiashi goes on, sensing Neji's disapproval, "Installations are novel. Without recognition, they are often nothing more than pretty things to look at. This is Hinata's second installation. I would caution you to think carefully about offering her the space to do a third."

"She's still finding her place in this world. What harm does it do to have her show here?"

"Wine and snacks can't generate enough money to keep the lights on, Neji. You know that."

"She has paintings for sale in the lobby," Neji mutters, glancing away from his uncle's gaze.

"And no offers," Hiashi says flatly.

Neji concedes this point in silence, nodding once at his uncle before moving on, through the lobby to return to the installation room.

He stills as he enters, his skin prickling again. His eyes narrow in on a young woman, her brown hair twisted up into two buns. Her back is to him, her face in profile, but he knows. Instantly, he knows.

He feels himself take a few steps closer, his heart beating erratically in his chest.

When she turns to him, sensing his gaze, her eyes are wide in confusion and surprise. Neji feels his breath still.

Their eyes lock and it all rushes to him suddenly—every dream he's ever had about her flooding his brain. Is it possible that she is here, really here, in the flesh?

Neji's mouth forms the word, but his mind is woefully, uncharacteristically blank. He whispers in alarm, "You."

A/N: So, full disclosure: I have only ever read one soulmate fic before, and it was vastly different than what I've written. I know that there are various tropes associated with soulmate fics, and I'm not sure mine ticks any of those boxes, but this is the story I wanted to tell, so. I hope you like it! The next installment is done, and I'm editing the third and last section currently, so I ask your patience. I think I'll probably have this all up by the end of this weekend.

Next chapter: Tenten's take on things. Let me know your thoughts, if you have any! - KNO