A/N: Canon through gangster Uchihacest lenses. Also known as, the story in which I shift POVs every other sentence, because I'm annoying like that.

Sometimes, I still feel your warmth through the skin of my clothes. Sometimes, I spin around and see your face everywhere. Sometimes, I tremble when I imagine the blood on my hand to be yours. Sometimes, I want to leave everything and run home to you.

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Sometimes, I cry so you will come back to dry my tears. Sometimes, I walk into the library hoping to learn a time reversal. Sometimes, no matter how hard I scrub, your stain doesn't wash from my memory. Sometimes, I wish it was all a horrible nightmare, that it wasn't real, that I am trapped in a cruel genjutsu.

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Sometimes, we close our eyes and expect to wake up.

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The thud jolted my heart. Right in the exact center, a feat even a kid like me could tell was incredible.

You landed one foot before the other in a delicate crouch, the balance of a cat. Your expression was serious, staid, with the right sharp fierceness, eyes a penetrating red. I could only marvel, a trail of sweat down my neck.

"Brother, you're so good! You even nailed the mark in a blind spot right in the middle!" I had always known you were extraordinary, but only now did I grasp the extent.

It also made me realize things wouldn't be the same as before. I would not have the nerve to ask you to fly airplanes or fold origami anymore. We wouldn't be in my room tackling each other with dinosaurs, or drawing on our arms with markers. And even though you once pulled me to your chair and helped me learn all my katakana and hiragana, I could not be sure I dare waste your time with kanji.

In the end, shuriken training became the only remaining I can ask of you, because that was the crossroads of our worlds. Training in the forest, in the fields, that was your place, and soon to be mine. Very soon, I would fully join you and father in the shinobi world.

With excitement, I drew a kunai to each hand. "Alright. Here I go!"

I readied to show my worth, only to be stopped in midair with, "Sasuke, let's head back."

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The shuriken had become the link to connect us together, although I wish it were not so. I was no longer the brother you had a few years back. I was losing the laughter from my voice, the expression from my face.

I could no longer play within your world, only watch in the distance as your lips excitedly form words, your eyes twinkle, your expressions stretch and twist in a multitude of delightful emotions, as your hand guides the teddy bear through the air. Even when we role play, you the hero, I the villain, I cannot engage in the story as you can, only choose what words to say, what times to smile, because I stopped trusting my voice after the time I burned down Teddy's home and your eyes widened in fear.

You captured and forgave me, but I had never forgiven myself for tainting your world with mine.

I slowly became exiled from the constructs of childhood, but you still tugged my sleeve. You left your dinosaur on the carpet, abandoned your imaginary village and its adventures to join me. And I cannot say you did not quell my heart with joy.

I wanted nothing more than to have you by my side, and yet, I could not bear to have your hands hardened by metal, to grow up and understand jutsu went beyond magic, and a bushin is much more than a trick to win hide and seek.

I wanted to remain the magician. I was scared to let you to know who I really was.

"Sasuke, let's head back."

And you pouted, feeling cheated. "You told me that you'd teach me some new shuriken moves!"

"I have a crucial mission tomorrow. I must prepare for it."

You stared hard at me, eyes furrowed, nose wrinkled. You gave an indignant puff and declared, "Brother, you liar."

And I gave a helpless smile, because you were not wrong.

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I remained adamant. I didn't want to leave, not yet, not until I could prove myself. Don't push me aside yet.

So when you gave a conceding sigh, beckoned me forward, I beamed in victory. I dashed to you, so you may hold my hand in yours, kneel down and murmur the proper grip technique, give me a target. Just give me a target, so I can show you I belonged on this field, that I was worth your time, that I could steadily be a part of the world you and father were in.

Instead, I was stopped by two fingers. "Sorry, Sasuke. Maybe next time."

My chest swelled with air, my nostrils flared. I was pleased when your smile broke into surprise after I crossed my arms, kunai whipped out at lightning speed. A few seconds, that was all I needed.

"Watch this brother!"

"Hey, don't be unres-"

The next thing I knew, I was flat on my stomach, the birds cawing above my head.

Well, I blew that chance. But somehow I couldn't be too disappointed. Through my dizzy vision, I saw your concerned face. I felt your arms wrap around me, pull me from the grass. You would take care of me until I found my next chance, and we'd be back here again, like all the other times.

I never thought that we would never return to the field together ever again, and there was no next time.

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We did shuriken train one last time, ten years later. Little kunai tricks could not captivate you any more, as you matched every missile with perfect accuracy, your eyes a vibrant red.

I realized I had nothing more to entertain you with, and whatever challenges I sent, you would overcome with ease, that valiant grin on your lips.

When the fūma shuriken unlatched and made its first hit of the game, I must say I was both proud and a little disappointed.

Proud that you had bested me with it, disappointed that I hadn't been the one to teach you the technique.

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You had always taught me how to be a superb shinobi. To run quickly, to shoot accurately, to read diligently. Under your guidance, I was better prepared than anyone in the Academy, and I was comfortable tossing shuriken at lunch breaks when everyone else still wrote their kana backwards or yelped at the sight of something sharp.

When I was younger, I always felt you were too busy. I always felt neglected. But now, I could see how much time you had dedicated to me. All the teachers and students saw the result of your work every time I climbed the highest tree, balanced on the shakiest rope.

When people called me genius, I began to believe it myself. I thought I was special, that everyone else was just slow, or stupid, or lazy. Inferior. It made me arrogant, something you hadn't forgotten to caution.

I took for granted what mother, father, and you had given me. The compassion, the incentive, the encouragement.

Even when the gates after gates of prestige opened for you, your eyes were only on me. A reassuring glance, a nudged to push me further, and when my confidence faltered, you took my words into your own mouth and led the way.

"What are you insane? You know how crucial tomorrow is! What's going on with you?"

We both felt the impact of father's rage. I jolted out of my skin, wanting to huddle in the corner, and yet, you, the receiver of his wrath had only a warm smile. "I'm going to Sasuke's entrance ceremony at the Ninja Academy."

We both knew I didn't want you. I wanted father. And you had managed to give him to me.

In the end, I understood Naruto didn't attend matriculation because no one came to watch him.

Naruto couldn't read because no one taught him.

Naruto gave up on classes because no one nudged him forward.

Naruto lost every single fight at the Academy because no one was there for him.

Naruto and I weren't the same at all. He got to where he was through his own strength; I stood on top my pedestal because of head start you had given me. So it would inevitable that when you were gone, Naruto would catch up, day by day, step by step.

Eventually, I wanted to push him down, shove him back in his place, because I didn't want to admit my growth had been all because of you.

And despite everything, even after that day, even when you weren't there anymore, it still was. You were still my encouragement to keep pushing forward.

You guided my hand through it all, even if only as an obstacle, even if I hated you. You were my best teacher.

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Jealousy needs both love and hate. The first person you loved was me, the first person you hated was me. And both emotions churned within you since, always in conflict.

Mother and father were different. You may be upset if mother didn't let you play, or disappointed if father didn't give you enough attention, but you never harbored hate for them.

In a sense, I deserved that look in your eyes.

Before you were born, all I had was a dream, an empty dream that was only realized by your birth. From then on, I did nothing but follow it. I strove to be at my highest potential, continually defining and redefining my limits. I sought power.

I wanted nothing more than to be with everyone, to grow to protect and keep them safe. Even when all my muscles ached, and sleep became a luxury, I held no regrets. I thought as long as I had power, I would no longer be subjected to fate, but decide it. I thought as long as I had power, I would no longer be helpless to watch what I did not want to see, I could make everything right. No one would have to die.

I hadn't realized I was asking to be god, and the sacrifices would be more than I could comprehend. Power didn't only ask for a little pain, or a few sleepless nights. My voice and identity would disappear, my heart would become as hardened as my hands, my parents would lose me, all my ties and bonds would sever.

The power I wanted would strip me of everything, make me stand alone as I passively watched the people I swore to protect die. The power I wanted would make me despicable, make my own clansmen hate me, have your scream bring me down to my knees. The power I wanted pushed you away from me, until I no longer became your friend, but an overbearing presence that would overshadow your entire life.

And eventually that power would sacrifice my dream, sacrifice the most precious thing I had as I traded the last of your love for hate.

"My foolish brother, if you want to kill me curse me, hate me! And live a long and unsightly life... Run away."

I had hoped you would see the monstrosity that I had become, that you would not follow my footsteps. Relief had sunken into my heart when you appeared before me that day with eyes unlike my own. Kilometers away, there were still people awaiting your return.

You were my brightest pupil, but I was your worst teacher.

You were superior.

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"Only ones who can enforce the laws on shinobi's crimes are the superior shinobi," you once told me.

I would join the Uchiha police force, I would bring the world to justice. That was my first dream. I was five of the time, but it seemed I knew more at five than I ever did.

Revenge wasn't justice.

Justice was to amend the wrong, to stop and prevent more crime, not commit them.

Revenge was putting everyone's safety in jeopardy so I may scream and charge at you, relieve my own pain with something to blame. Revenge was the desire to gut you alive for taking away my father, my mother, my brother.

Revenge was a form of weakness, a way to wrap a blanket around myself because things weren't suppose to have happened the way they did.

Role playing wasn't supposed to have turned into a reality.

I half expect that once I drove in my chidori, the game would be over, the villain would be gone, and my brother would be back.

I hated you with the very blood in my veins, but underneath it all, it was all a cry of despair. I didn't want to play the hero of justice anymore. I just wanted my brother back.

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There was no going back. I had very little left to give you, very few words, and even less time. Instead, the only thing that remained for me was what Akatsuki understood as my little problem.

A blood tie could not be severed, I learned. No matter how far we were from each other, as long as you lived, your presence would always be with me, it would always soak through my clothes and down to my bones. Even when the nights became blistering cold, it kept me warm and alive. My little problem always kept me company, and despite it all, reminded me I still had a family. I still had you.

Congratulations on defeating Deidara. He was not someone easy to best.

Your victory was the final step. You were ready for the last thing I could give you.

You did want me to help you train, didn't you? Let us make our fight a memorable one.

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Since the death of our parents, reality seemed indistinguishable from illusion. Everything still felt like make-believe, that I was making it up as I went along, and you played along. Beliefs shaped everything, beliefs were everything.

Our last battle was no different. Teddy would throw his paper shurikens, and Dino would breathe his fireballs, and we'd become more and more creative as time passed, more complex with our strategies, defy more and more laws of physics. Clones, animal help, let us jump and fight in the air like super-nin.

Genjutsu would layer upon genjutsu until the game breaker set in, and then I'd turn to flying in the skies and you'd laugh that was illegal, so I buried myself in the carpet instead. And you'd burn the building blocks, and I'd shoot lightning bolts.

Then there would be a call of curfew, and the game ended with a poke to my forehead.

"Sorry Sasuke, let's continue next time." And you'd tuck me in bed.

I wanted to fall asleep by your side in this cold rain.

And when I wake up, we would finally be out of this game, and my brother would come back to me once more.

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"The future is not where my dream is. It's in the past. That's where it'll always be."