This didn't want to be written. At all. So after spending way too long of glaring at this chapter it's finally finished! Enjoy!

The faint sound of bird song and running water reached my ears, a Paino backtrack to the rustle of turning pages and near-silent breathing. Morning light shone through the windows, gleaming against the floors and providing ample reading light. The sliding door had been left open, allowing a gentle breeze to toy with the pages of my book. I leaned against Itachi as I read, a small smile tugging at my lips. It was remarkably relaxing and a good way recover from morning warm-ups, which were gradually becoming more intense.

"Itachi-Nii," Sasuke cried from the doorway, dragging my attention away from my book. He'd drawn the 'Nii' out in an oddly endearing whine. "You promised we'd go practice shuriken today!"

Unhelpfully, I pointed to one of the more complicated words in my book. "How's this one pronounced, Itachi-Nii?" The word "pronounced" still seemed awkward in my mouth, but Itachi had clearly understood the question because there was a small tremble of restrained laughter against my back. Our older brother carefully sounded out the word as he set his own book aside.

Sasuke pouted in response, though the expression was mostly directed towards me. "Naori, you're not helping! Besides, you're the one who said you'd go crazy if we didn't do something today!" His expression screamed, 'So there.'

In response I gave an over dramatic sigh, marking my place in the book. "But I wanted to know more about the battle between the Sannin and Hanzō in Amegakure." I mimicked his whining tone from before, fighting back a smile.

Sasuke and I stared at each other for a few seconds before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

"Well then," Itachi spoke, rising to his feet. His eyes were warm. "Shall we go practice shuriken?"

. . .

The thunk of metal burying itself into wood reached my ears, the sound oddly satisfying despite most of the weapons missing their intended marks. I hadn't really thought about it when I was watching the anime, but throwing Shuriken was actually really hard. I sighed, glaring at the weapons for a moment. I was improving, but not nearly quickly enough. Another set of thuds and a disappointment sigh to my left implied that Sasuke's thoughts on the matter were quite similar to my own.

"Don't be disheartened, you two," I could hear a smile in Itachi's tone, "I don't expect you two to be perfect Shinobi, you're only two." There was no bitterness to his words, though I felt he was justified to some.

"But you could do this when you were our age." Sasuke muttered in protest, kicking at the dirt.

Sighing, our elder brother gestured for us to come closer. We complied silently, exchanging a curious glance. "You two aren't me, and I don't expect you to be." He sighed, pausing for a moment to organize his thoughts. "You two have talents of your own. You've both picked up speaking and reading incredibly quickly, I couldn't play the flute as well as either of you when I was your age, and I certainly wasn't being trained in dance"

I grimaced. "Honestly, I'd prefer Kata." Sasuke nodded in agreement, expression disproportionately intense given that the subject was dancing. It was adorable.

Itachi chuckled. "Perhaps dance wasn't the best example." And Sasuke and I were laughing, less then perfect performances with shuriken forgotten.

"Now," Our brother began when the laughter died down, "It's lunch time. You two have been working hard so it's important that you eat something." He pulled three bentos from his backpack with a smile.

We'd just sat down when something brushed at the edge of my awareness, drawing my lips into a faint frown.

"Itachi!" A male voice - Young, though that didn't mean much in this world - called. "We have a mission. Come on, you can goof off with the brats later." Turning towards the voice revealed a preteen with soot colored hair and black eyes. After a moment of thought I recognized him from Itachi's description of his team: Tenma Izumo. The name itself didn't mean too much to me but I'd already begun forgetting things from my previous life. Maybe he'd been mentioned in a filler arc?

Itachi sighed, disappointment flickering through his eyes before his expression shifted to Shinobi blank. "Sorry Sasuke, sorry Naori. We'll have to practice some other time."

"It's okay, Itachi-Nii." Sasuke answered, pouting. He straightened. "You've just gotta tell us about your cool ninja mission, 'kay?" He flashed a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.

I was disappointed but did my best to ignore the emotion, shrugging. Itachi's duty was to the village first; Sasuke and I could wait a bit longer for shuriken practice. "Be safe, 'Tachi-Nii." As the two Shinobi left I turned to Sasuke. "Guess we should tell Kaa-San that Itachi won't be home for dinner."

With Itachi and his teammate out of sight Sasuke had stopped attempting to hide his pout, but he nodded. Sighing again, I grabbed Sasuke's sleeve and turned to head home. An alarmed yelp escaped my lips when the motion revealed that another Uchiha had been standing right behind me.

"Hey kids." Shisui greeted, giving a small wave.

Sasuke gasped, instantly brightening upon seeing our cousin. "Shisui-Nii! You're back from your mission!" He paused, frowning. "But why'd you come out to the training field? You should rest after a long mission." Sasuke was mimicking the tone our mother used when Itachi returned from his missions and wanted to train.

Laughing, our cousin leaned forward to ruffle Sasuke's hair. "I heard Itachi had a mission and hoped to catch him before he left." He shrugged, "Ah well, it's probably for the best that I missed him. Someone has to make sure you crazy kids get home safe, after all."

After giving tokenary protests that we didn't need help getting home Sasuke and I seized Shisui's hands, glad to have a rare moment with our cousin. He was frequently busy with Shinobi work and, as a result, we didn't see much of him.

Eyes glimmering with mischief, Sasuke turned to our cousin as we walked. "Shisui-Nii, you promised to teach us Ninjutsu!" He pointed out, eyes darting to me in a silent que.

A grin tugged at my lips. "And you promised you'd teach us the Shushin." I continued.

Alarm flashed through Shisui's eyes. "No! Absolutely not!"

"But Shisui-Nii!"

. . .

To say something was bothering Itachi when he returned from his mission would be an understatement. He'd returned a few hours before dinner, gaze distant and thoughts clearly elsewhere. When our mother had offered him something for supper he'd mutely shaken his head and retreated to his room. It would be alarming behavior from anyone, but from Itachi - Someone who kept his emotions so carefully concealed - It was almost frightening. What had happened on the mission to do... This?

I'd tried to pick my book on the Second Ninja War back up but, after staring at the same page for multiple minutes, concluded that the distraction was unhelpful. Then came restlessly pacing, occasionally interrupted by me uncertainly hovering by Itachi's door. I wanted very badly to help him, to offer him words of comfort but... I wasn't even sure what had happened, let alone how to comfort him. After my fifth lap around the house I felt thoroughly useless. It made me unreasonably angry to know that there was nothing I could do to help my older brother. My mature response was to assault the tree in our back yard.

A bit of time passed, maybe thirty minutes, before Mikoto came to stop me. My knuckles had split and were throbbing and I was still upset. Mikoto led me inside with a sad smile, carefully helping me wash and bandage my hands before how to properly wrap them before "future tree assaults." While I enjoyed the chance to spend time with her, something was clearly on her mind.

"Kaa-San," I attempted, the words still awkward and uncomfortable. She was my mother in this life yes, but... Calling her my mother felt wrong, somehow, when I could still remember my first mother so vividly. "Is Itachi-Nii going to be okay?"

The question felt foolish - Childish, somehow - Once I'd asked it, but Mikoto had been a ninja before Itachi was born. She was more likely to be able to access the situation and what it would do to a child than I was.

Her brows creased, eyes painfully sad for a moment before she schooled her expression into something bland and vaguely motherly. I wondered, briefly, if the expression would have worked on a real child. "Eventually. He may be like this for a bit, Naori. He was hurt in here," She held a hand over her heart. "Some people take longer to heal from that than others."

I sighed. The answer was technically honest but it had been delicately worded, meant to avoid upsetting a child my age. After a moment I asked, "Will it scar?" It was awkwardly phrased but between my shaky grasp of the language and age there were only so many ways to ask the question.

Sadness crept into Mikoto's expression again. "Probably. I'm not sure how badly yet, though." She shook her head, determination unexpectedly flashing across her features. "Walk with me, Naori-Chan?"

I nodded, getting up. We walked from the bathroom to the living room in silence. Carefully, Mikoto lifted me and sat me on the couch. "Stay put, alright Naori?" After I'd nodded she left the room, silent as a ghost. A few moments later she returned, Sasuke squirming in her arms. She sat carefully sat him down, an unamused frown making her opinion of the wiggling clear.

Our mother's fingers shifted into a vaguely familiar hand seal, her chakra humming before it split. A second Mikoto appeared with a puff of smoke, "I'll keep them safe." The clone promised.

The original Mikoto nodded, expression unsettlingly grim when she turned to Sasuke and I."Naori, Sasuke, I'm going out for a bit. There's someone I need to talk to." She paused, gave us a weak smile, and added, "Shadow clones are fragile so be careful with the clone, alright? I'll be back in time to make supper." She pressed kisses to our foreheads before disappearing in a swirl of leaves.

It was strange to me that our mother was willing to trust her toddlers to something as fragile as a shadow clone, but I couldn't help the wave of relief that washed over me when I realized that our mother was also worried about Itachi's abnormal behavior. I wondered who our mother intended to question, briefly imagined questioning them myself, before dismissing the thought with a dejected shake of my head. I was two. Even if I could manage to slip out of the house to question someone I doubted I'd get anything useful.

I wasn't exactly intimidating.

Turning to Sasuke, I offered a small smile. He'd undoubtably noticed that Itachi - and Mikoto and I, to a lesser extent - was acting oddly. I wouldn't be surprised if it had worried him. "Ro-Sham-Bo?" I asked, tone hopeful. It would be an idle distraction, at best, but worrying about something we couldn't change wouldn't get us anywhere. He nodded, giving a small smile as he turned to face me.

. . .

"Is Itachi alright?" Fugaku called, the sound of the door sliding drifting to my ears alongside his voice.

Our mother had returned about two hours before Fugaku, her expression grim. When we'd asked her what happened, if she knew more about what had upset Itachi, she'd been unwilling to tell us. Instead she gave us new toys - Two dinosaurs, one green and one blue - as either an apology or a distraction. It might have worked if I were a real two year old. Instead, it just confirmed that the only way I'd find out what had happened was through eavesdropping.

Sasuke and I shared a look upon hearing our father's voice, silently conferring for a moment, before moving towards our parents' discussion.

"He left his dinner." Our mother answered, voice laced with concern. "He's still laying down in his room."

"He's a ninja now. Teammates sometimes die in front of you." I jerked to a halt, eyes widening in disbelief. I'd known that death was common in this world but Fugaku had just dismissed the death of a child. I wondered, briefly, if he was able to dismiss the death so easily because he'd grown numb to it during the war. Even worse, I wondered if he'd dismissed the death so easily because whoever died hadn't been an Uchiha. Either way, it was sickening.

"But he's only eight." Our mother countered, "He should really still be playing at the academy with his friends."

"A testament to his talents." Fugaku answered, either missing or ignoring our mother's point. "It's precisely because he attracted the attention of people in the village that he got assigned the mission of guarding the Daimyo. And precisely because it was an important mission, it carried an element of danger. Living through the carnage time and time again is how a ninja grows up."

I scowled at Fugaku's words as I moved to catch up to Sasuke. He hadn't stopped when I'd paused earlier and now grew dangerously close to wandering into a conversation that was unpleasant at best. I wasn't keen on the idea of my younger brother wandering into the crossfire of angry Shinobi.

"Can't you get him into the Military Police, and have him working under you?" Our mother's voice had taken on a pleading note.

"He won't be joining the police force. I'm thinking about his future here. He needs to keep working hard as a Genin right now."

"But he's just-"

"It's fine," Fugaku interrupted, "I'm sure he'll get over it."

My stomach twisted into angry knots and, for a moment, I wanted to hit Fugaku as my two year old body could muster. Instead, I carefully grabbed Sasuke's sleeve and pulled him to a stop. I shook my head at his baffled expression, tugging him away from Fugaku and Mikoto's conversation. I'd explain to him later that our parents wouldn't like that we'd been listening and if he got mad at me so be it. It was easy to deal with an angry two year old, but I didn't have the first clue as to how to deal with angry Shinobi.

Once I was relatively confident that we were out of earshot of our parents I turned to Sasuke, attempting to shoot him a hopeful smile. "Show me some of the Kata Uncle Jirou was teaching you?" His eyes lit up, our parents' discussion forgotten in favor of the chance to show off.

Unfortunately, I was certain I wouldn't forget that conversation so easily.

Paino: An Italian term used in music. It translates to "Quiet."