Author's Note: Happy 2 year anniversary! Posting this on the day that I created the story yaaaaay. Also: I'm so, so sorry for how long it's taken me to get this out. But I want y'all to understand that this chapter had like 4 other versions and while some of them were definitely longer by like 4 or 5 pages they just... weren't as good. So also, sorry for how short this is, especially since it's been well over a year since the last update. I think my main problem is that I honestly just created this story on the fly, then posted, so I don't have too much planned in advance. So I'm making it up as I go, except for some key events!

One more thing. I want to say thank you so much for supporting this story despite me being a lame loser who sucks at updating. When I first posted I never in a million years expected 400+ people to follow it, and honestly if it weren't for that number I probably would've given up on trying to update. But you guys motivate me! I'm not just writing for myself- I'm writing for you! So this chapter's dedicated to everyone who's stuck by me.

Er, and one one more thing. I have a twitter! So if anyone wants to talk to me or even ask me questions you can tweet me at Claambutt. I don't have much on there right now, mainly because I have no one to talk to! But if people are interested I could reply with little doodles of Jū and stuff! It's a lot easier for me to draw than to write, so...

ON WITH THE STORY

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Sometimes, loving people can be just as much of a gift as it is a curse. Because some people… you can't help but love. Even when you know it will hurt you in the end.

-S.L. Jennings, Fear of Falling

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Sasuke pressed into my side, exuding warmth and comfort and innocent love that I could never truly fathom, because how could anyone love me this much? He hadn't said a single word when he walked into Itachi's room that morning, simply cast his gaze around the empty, empty room where Itachi should've been but wasn't, and climbed into our brother's bed to sit beside me. With how silent he was being I might've thought he'd drifted off to sleep if it weren't for how twitchy he was, as if he wanted nothing more to jump and cartwheel around the room. But he wasn't doing any sort acrobatics, he was just… sitting. With me.

I swallowed, throat tight and eyes hot, and pressed my face into my brother's soft, black hair. My own inky strands blended into his perfectly and, if I closed my eyes, I could pretend that he and I were one person, that I had his happiness and strength of heart and that I'd grow to be as strong as he did so I could save everyone and not have to worry about my mirror image succumbing to darkness and hatred and—

"Jū, you okay?" Sasuke mumbled, pulling away just a hair to stare at my stupid, dumb face (stupid on me, because it wasn't natural or right for me to have his face when it belonged to Sasuke, and Sasuke alone).There was concern in his eyes, his small mouth pulled down in a pout that was probably meant to be a worried frown but Sasuke was never any good at frowning.

I considered lying to the three year old beside me. It would've been easy to shoot him a smile and tackle him into Itachi's covers, wrestle away the concern he had for me and make it so he only thought of fun. But then, some part of me worried that if I didn't confide in him, that if I shut him out… I was worried that Sasuke would feel that he'd never be able to confide in me. That he'd never tell me what was bothering him, and I'd end up forever fumbling around in the dark trying to navigate Sasuke's emotions.

"I'm sad, Sasuke," I croaked, fighting the small jolt of anxiety that came whenever I had to talk about myself, like a sharp current thrumming menacingly underneath my skin. I felt Sasuke shift beside me, moving closer and wrapping me into a hug that sent my heart into a gallop. Sometimes—only sometimes—I felt like I didn't really exist in this family. I felt like a morose specter that wandered the house that was never really seen—eyes would just stare right through me and see what they wanted.

But then with Sasuke holding me, feeling his cheek pressed against my own and hearing him attempt to hum the song that our mother would sing whenever she sensed we were upset, I felt… grounded. I felt solid and whole and I felt like I mattered in this world.

"Are you sad cuz 'Tachi left?" The words settled heavily in my chest, pressing down against my lungs until I could no longer even breathe—

I nodded, throat tight as I tried not to think of how our older brother simply up and left, all because I'd made the stupid mistake of opening my dumb mouth. What had I been thinking, saying what I did? I must've sounded so cold, spewing out words with little consideration on their effect on Itachi, and he'd left without so much as a goodbye.

Part of me felt bitter, knowing that Itachi was no doubt with Shisui—his cousin-brother-friend that he relied on far more than I. But then, Shisui was also a shinobi, whereas I was a three-year-old girl (girl, no matter how I looked, no matter what people would say, I was a girl) who only had an elementary grasp of what it meant to be a ninja and had yet to so much as spar with anyone.

Sasuke made no attempt to fill the silence that followed—simply sat there for as long as he felt was necessary to let me know that I was loved and cared for and god did I love this boy.

It was only when Mother walked into Itachi's room, the scent of freshly cooked breakfast clinging heavily to her, that Sasuke and I separated from our warm hug. "Sasuke, Jūbei, it's time to eat," she informed us with a smile—and not even halfway through that sentence had Sasuke scrambled off of the bed and bolted off towards the kitchen.

Itachi's comforter was soft underhand, and a few loose threads tickled my palm as I ran my fingers along the material. It was a dark navy blue in color, not unlike the shade of blue Sasuke so often wore, with a small hand stitched Uchiha emblem near the top right corner. All of our blankets had our crest proudly displayed on them in some form or another—the one in my room was practically one big uchiwa, while Sasuke's had them scattered about (once I had attempted to count how many, and had gotten up to a hundred and twenty three before I lost my place and gave up)—and it, for whatever reason, had a calming effect on me. It was a comfort to see the crest plastered on any and all surfaces; to see it meant I was home. I was safe.

"I think we should talk," Mother's voice snapped me out of my musings of blankets and crests, forcing me to look up and away from the red and white sigil and into her eyes. At the sight of her barely-there frown, dread trickled into my blood like a cold stream, the thrum of my heartbeat growing louder at the aspect of talking. I didn't—I couldn't handle the thought of my heart being laid bare, airing out my horrible, weak emotions for my mother to see. With Sasuke all that had sufficed was a simple nod in response to being asked if I was sad, but with Mother I suspected she'd want me to explain why I was sad—and therein lies the rub.

Without waiting for me to formulate a reply, my mother reached down and scooped me up, cradling me against her warm chest and giving me a close up view of the white sliver of a scar ghosting along the side of her neck. What had happened to her, I wondered. Did Mother once have a close brush with death, with only the razor thin scar as a reminder? Or was it the result of something silly and inconsequential—a cat scratch that had gone deeper than expected?

It helped, pondering things such as this—of scars and callouses and the stories behind them that told of close scrapes but never fatalities. Stories unrelated to me and my place in the world, where my actions were of no consequence because anything that happened in the story had happened long ago.

I jumped when Mother buried her nose in my hair, warm breath tickling against my forehead as she released a tremendous sigh. "You're too perceptive, Jūbei."

As gently as she had said it, those words felt like a blow to the gut. I stiffened in her hold, fingers tingling and sparking at the realization that I was god-awful at hiding my true nature. Teeth dug into my lower lip, and I found myself absolutely unable to look my mother in the eyes. What could I say? How could I deflect such a comment? Denying it would only bring suspicion onto my character—what kid wouldn't want to look smart to his parents?

The air expelled from my lungs and I sagged, limp in my mother's arms.

No, there was no point in denying it. No point in lying to Mother.

"When Sasuke congratulated Itachi for his Sharingan," I began, the words tumbling from my mouth like stones, heavy and painful, "It was like he saw right past the blood. Right past the fact that Itachi killed someone. I can't do that. Mama, Itachi looked so lost, and you were all just praising him instead of… of asking him if he was okay! And he wasn't okay!"

Inhale. Exhale. Ignore the building pressure behind my eyes.

"I'm scared for him. Scared that Itachi's gonna be pushed to do things he doesn't wanna do, but will do them anyway because he's too nice to say no. He's… he's only eight, but-"

Mother's arms tightened around me. "That's enough." She hushed, tucking my head under her own. "No more, Jūbei."

We passed through the doorway of Mother and Father's room, and the air smelled of plums. A single candle sat on the nightstand, with a small trail of smoke lazily drifting from its blackened wick, a ghost of the flame that once was.

Mother settled herself into the mattress, never once releasing me from her hold. She sighed once more, and it was like sadness was in her breath. "As a ninja… sometimes we're told to do things we're not happy with. We can't always say no, because there's not always another person who's able to do the job. So we do as we're told, and live with the guilt. But," The gentlest of touches, rough-but-loving hands brushing the hair from my eyes, "It doesn't have to eat away at us. Having friends and family around who love you no matter what does wonders for your heart. Your father and I made sure to talk to Itachi about what he went through, Jūbei. It might be awhile until the wounds this mission left on his heart will fade, but your brother has us to support him through all his hardships." I saw a smile quirk at the corners of her lips, small and almost not there at all, but present all the same. "And we're here for you, too. You can rely on us. Don't forget that."

My eyes burned with tears.

But I said nothing, only responding by wrapping my arms around Mother's neck and hugging her.

A weight was lifted from my shoulders; the pressure in my chest decreased.

Why hadn't I realized this? Of course our parents cared about Itachi's thoughts and feelings. Of course they saw underneath his mask just as easily as I had; easier than I had, most likely.

They were ninja after all. And parents.

I need to stop underestimating my family. Who did I think I was? Having a few years of foreknowledge didn't really mean anything in the long run. I hadn't experienced anything close to what my parents had, I didn't know even a fraction of what they knew.

"Sorry," I finally mumbled into Mother's hair, feeling lighter than before. "Sorry… 'M sorry, Mama."

A warm hand rubbed my back in small, smoothing circles.

"It's fine, Jūbei."

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Author's Note: As usual, thanks to Orodruin, who has graciously stayed my beta despite my long silence! She's helped me figure out ways that might help me break this block so here's hoping the next update won't take so long! (I definitely suggest you go take a look at her stuff!)