- - -

Dear Sasuke,

By the time this letter reaches you, I hope that things will be better than they are at the moment.

Since the last time we corresponded a lot has happened. On the 8th of September Lord Jiraiya passed on. He was murdered while walking home from the inn he frequented. The criminal is still at large. While we all mourned, Grandmother Tsunade said that they'd both expected it. Apparently she knows something we don't, but she still refuses to share. Something tells me there's more to this than either she or the police have let on.

Apart from the death of Jiraiya, other sad happenings have occurred. My sister's illness has grown worse. The doctors have given up it seems. One doctor even had the audacity to suggest that we institutionalize her; he was promptly removed from our estate and services soon after.

Sasuke, you have been my closest friend my whole life. While we are as different as night and day we both share a similar admiration of my younger sister. We both watched as she grew into the beautiful woman she is today. And sadly I have watched her mental health deteriorate from her own bright sunshine-like disposition to that of something far quieter and serious.

While you were privy to witnessing the earlier stage of her illness that seemed to make her quieter, now it has caused her to separate herself from all that she held dear and adopt a dark side that worries me. She no longer laughs or smiles. She no longer goes to the elegant balls that the Hyuuga family holds. The only facets of her personality that still seem to show themselves are her love of the arts and nature. She is often seen walking by herself outside near the lake or sitting under the large oak with the swing. Her studio is now rampant with art. While this would seem to be an improvement from her period of no art it is in reality far worse. Each image she made seemed more morbid than the next and it scared the maids and visitors so much I've banned her from drawing or painting. Now she finds artist release in music alone. I myself have walked the house in the early hours of the morning and found her in the piano room playing the same song again and again. It is the most emotionally complex piece I've ever heard and yet it's simplicity astounds me. Perhaps if you heard it you would understand it's implications far better than myself, since unlike you I am unlearned when it comes to the piano.

As I have said before, you are my closest friend. You have been with me every step of this journey. But Sasuke now I ask you, what do I do? I cannot find it within myself to send her to the institution. Even though she has changed she is still my sister. She is still herself, correct?

I am at a loss at what to do. Between the death of my mentor Lord Jiraiya and the failing mental health of my beloved sister I am weary.

Sasuke, what am I to do? You are a genius. Surely you would know?

Deeply troubled,

Naruto

- - -

Naruto,

I am sorry to hear of the passing of your mentor. While I don't know what Lady Tsunade would keep from you, I know that she is wise in her own way and that she must have her reasons.

As for your sister I am deeply troubled as well. You and your sister have always been a light in the darkness that seems to creep it's way from my past into my present. You of all people know that.

Your sister's illness reminds me of what seemed to affect my eldest brother. Please, do not take this piece of information the wrong way. In no way am I suggesting that your sister will become either homicidal or suicidal. Itachi's case was far worse than your sister's. It was this strange affliction that I studied for. You remember, correct?

In terms of your sister's art... I would have to see it to glean anything from it. I know that in the later stages of Itachi's illness he would do similar things. There was a window in our house that overlooked the cherry trees in the back that he would sit at for hours. While he would sit, he would draw the trees over and over. As time went on, his drawings showed less live trees and more dead ones. Months before his death he stopped drawing and just stared instead. One of the doctors my father talked with said that it was something only Itachi would understand. I'm sure that till the day he died, Itachi was the only one who knew the meaning of those trees and that window. Perhaps your sister's piece is similar. Perhaps it's something that we'll never understand, only something her mind can decipher.

However, I digress.

As for what you should do, I would suggest the two of you come visit me here at the Manor. The grounds this time of year are especially awe inspiring. The leaves are just beginning to change. Perhaps your sister would like to view them? Also, the piano my mother played is still in the same place. There are many windows in that room so as to view the grounds. I believe your sister may find some peace of mind here. Also, it would give me a chance to listen to her piano piece. Perhaps I can shed some light on it by looking at the theory behind it.

I also think you could use a good drink and a shoulder to lean upon in your time of trouble. I'll open up that bottle of Verte Chartreuse¹ that Hyuuga gave me.

As your closest friend, or so you say, that's what my duty is, isn't it?

Take me up on this offer, dead last.

I look forward to seeing you.

Sasuke Uchiha

- - -

¹Verte Chartreuse isn't a real brand of Chartreuse as far as I know.

Chartreuse is a French liqueur composed of distilled alcohol flavored with 130 herbal extracts. It's named after the Grande Chartreuse monastery where it was formerly produced.

Green Chartreuse is a naturally green liqueur flavored with extracts from plants where it gets it's coloring from chlorophyll. I made up the name from this (Verte means green in French).

Grim Notes:

I'm trying something different. Lately I haven't been able to get this idea out of my head. It's making writing other stories like Trapped by Ninjas and The White Wolf difficult.

This story will primarily be told through letters and the personal thoughts of characters. It takes place in an imaginary time that is somewhat similar to Jane Austen's era.

Over the past few years I've dealt with severe mental illness. It's often left me bed ridden and alone. I've read quite a few stories on this site that I feel wrongly portray mental illness. A lot of times writers either make it seem easy to deal with, or they make it into something that eventually goes away like magic. Both of these things are so false it's sickening. Mental illness is something that never heals. In a way it's like cancer. Even if it goes into remission, there's always that possibility lurking in the background. As for how people deal with it, it is similar to trying to quit smoking.

When I was deeply ill, I didn't know the difference between everyday thinking and illness thinking. Something like 'wouldn't it be wonderful to die' came as easy as thinking 'I'd like cake right now'.

Mental illness is no joke. It is not simple.

However, I've come to realize that while it is a burden, it is also beautiful at times. If you're wondering what I mean, you'll come to understand it through this story.

This story is written to be a vaguely truthful story about how mental illness affects both the afflicted individual and those around them.

I decided to write this story in Austen times because I feel that in their time society as a whole was generally more astute and philosophical. Also, there would be less of a focus on medicine and doctors and more on the 'natural' healing that took place (similar to what I went through).

Comments and criticism are wonderful to receive when I write stories like this. It helps me work out the kinks.

I'm attempting to finish this story within the week.

I hope you enjoy.

-GS18