On a particular afternoon, after hours of incessant sparring, two sweating shinobi decide to take a fifteen minute break, and relax under a shady tree. One immediately begins his daily meditation, while the other rests next to him—admiring him from head to toe, focusing especially on his hands.

They allow themselves to immerse in comfortable silence, enjoying the cool wind that ever so often visits with just the right breeze. That is, until one of them comes up with a brilliant plan, and says to the other, "Give me your hand."

"No," is the immediate reply.

"Do it."

"I'm meditating."

"Give. Me."

He blinks.

"Your. Hand."

He shakes his head.

"Just give me your hand!"

He subtly moves further away from her.

"Neji, come back here and give it to me!" she shrieks, crawling on all fours toward the escaping male. "I can tell your future!"

"What?"

"I can tell your fate."

He grunts.

"I can tell your destiny."

He twitches.

"Neji!"

"…Can you really?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Give me your hand and I'll show you."

"…" He reluctantly places his hand into her awaiting one.

"Alright," she announces, shifting into an incredibly serious expression. Neji watches his teammate inhale a massive breath, hold it for a long moment, and then finally scream, "Palm Reading no Jutsu!"

Beginning to grow intrigued at his teammate's new ability, Neji observes with unblinking eyes as the girl sketches jagged lines on his pale palm. It feels a bit tingly, as if an enormous amount of chakra were bursting out of his veins. Surprisingly though, there is no sign of a glowing blue, or any color for all that matter.

"Oh, no," he hears Tenten murmur mournfully. "No, no, no."

He waits curiously.

"Neji, you're going to die."

"What," he says blankly.

She sighs. "An agonizing, depressing, gruesome death."

"…When?"

"Very, very soon."

He scowls. "That's absurd."

"But it's true." Tenten displays a remorseful look as she continues to study Neji's right hand. "In a few minutes, you're going to resume your training session. And when you least expect it…" She pauses for suspense. "Two shuriken will come flying out of nowhere, and cut your arms right off!"

"Really," he says monotonously, unconvinced.

"Yeah." Tenten presses her lips together as her finger continues dancing across his palm, determined to persuade him. "You're gonna suffer from heavy blood loss, and then…" She searches frantically through her imagination. "As a trustworthy comrade, I'll be there to bring you to a medic nin and all that good stuff, only to be informed by Tsunade-sama herself that reattaching your limbs will be impossible."

"Again, absurd."

As her left forefinger begins to draw more quickly, Tenten slides her right hand under his for support. "And…as we all know, an armless Hyuuga won't be able to use hand techniques like Eight Divination Signs, Sixty-Four Palms of the Hand, and therefore, will eventually be deemed weak and useless."

Neji narrows his eyes as his ego takes a harsh blow.

"And then, when Hiashi-san finds out, he'll be extremely disappointed in you, and remove you from the clan entirely, and refuse to pay for any medical bills or prescriptions, leaving you to die helpless in the hospital," Tenten recites as her fingers gradually stop moving.

"I see," Neji says flatly. "Are you done?"

"No!" She bites the inside of her cheek. "Uh, you see…after every prognostication, you're supposed to join hands with your palm reader for a good ten minutes, without involving any other side activities, to ensure the most accurate results."

He raises a suspicious eyebrow. "So, if I hold your hand, my arms will be sliced off with more precision?"

Tenten opens her mouth, dumbfounded. "Wait, no—I didn't mean it like that." She flashes her insightful teammate a sheepish smile. "It's just…the longer you hold my hand, the later you'll continue your training, and therefore, the more time you allot yourself before dying alone in a cold hospital."

"Alone?" His gaze flickers. "I assumed that my trustworthy comrade would be sitting beside my deathbed till I die."

"Uh—I…" She struggles, and instinctively looks down, eyes immediately travelling to the sight of Neji's pale hand still firmly placed on her own. "I was just…hypothetically speaking…"

"Of course." Neji nods solemnly, suppressing a big, fat smirk. "So, what do you suggest that I do during my last moments, Tenten?"

"Well," she improvises, "perhaps…if you discontinue today's training session, you'll dodge the shuriken, and avoid becoming disarmed, as well as, uh—maybe…death itself."

"I see…" The corners of his lips alight in amusement. "Alright, let's do that."

"Huh?" Her head shoots up. "We're really…skipping training today?"

Neji gives her a strange look. "Would you prefer to watch me die?"

"No, of course not!" Tenten exclaims automatically at the misunderstanding. "I just…" Her voice trails off as she grows self-conscious of the streak of embarrassment devouring her cheeks. "Never mind."

And so, the two shinobi return to their previous state of pleasant stillness, seated side by side, hand in hand, against a tree trunk, indulging in the humorous misconceptions that a mere palm reading session created. One is again concentrated in an intense meditating exercise, while the other rests her head on the other's shoulder—dreaming about him from head to toe, focusing especially on his hands.

Once the one awake ascertains that the other is fast asleep, he murmurs, "If you wanted to skip training, you could've just said so." Soon, the other smiles in her slumber, applauding her brilliant plan, which was devised with only one goal in mind: to hold Neji's hand.

— Hand