When we are developing in our mother's womb, our bodies are curled up with our backs curved, the legs tucked in as close to the abdomen as possible, and our arms wrapped around our heads. This positioning of the body provides protection to the brain and vital organs. Because of its origination with unborn children, this pose is commonly referred to as the fetal position.

It is human instinct to go into this position when faced with extreme stress or trauma, whether mental, emotional, or physical. The fetal position subconsciously reminds us of the months when nothing could touch us but the gentle, constant thump-thumping of our carrier's heartbeat. The position also makes us feel small, as if whatever bad things that are lurking our there will just overlook us.

Above all, the fetal position makes us feel safe.

I could write a frickin' book about the fetal position.

I honestly don't know how many hours I spent in the fetal position, trying to hide from everything and anything. It was a little difficult to breathe sometimes, since I was forcefully digging my knees into my lungs, but the false sense of security was worth it.

I even slept all curled up, as if my demons were low enough to attack me in my sleep if I didn't hide. Of course, despite my sincerest of efforts, that recurring nightmare always found me. And I would always wake up in the middle of the night and pray for insomnia, just so I wouldn't have to go through that night of loss ever again.

I clutched my Sasu-doll, having sewn up the wound in its head in one of my calmer hours. I hadn't been able to get the fluff and beads back inside him without making the hole bigger, so the poor thing was limp and thin in my arms. Not nearly as fun to snuggle as he had been once upon a time. He now fit easily between my thighs and chest as I clung to my calves.

Just then, I heard the familiar beeping of my alarm clock. 6 A.M. Funny how I invariably woke up long before I had planned to. I slowly lifted my head and peeled one of my arms from my calves. I lightly pushed the off button on the alarm, and was about to curl up again when I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror in front of my bed.

The girl looking back at me was pale. That was the first thing I noticed. So deathly pale that her skin seemingly glowed against the dark canvas of her bedroom. She was thin, too. Despite the muscles that she was developing every day, she was so skinny. Obviously her muscles were the long, wiry kind. Or maybe she wasn't eating…she had deep, dark shadows under eyes, making her look gravely ill and sleep-deprived at the same time. Her hair and eyes looked unnaturally dark against her pale skin, yet another side-effect of refusing to eat.

It was hard to accept that I was looking into a mirror. I've never been vain, per se, but I was used to being relatively good-looking, even to myself. the girl in the mirror, however, looked like a disaster. A total and complete disaster.

I couldn't summon the destructive heat of fury that usually fueled me in times of distress. Instead, I curled back up—like a turtle, I decided later—and hid from the ghostlike girl in the mirror.

I'm not sure when exactly I started crying. It just seemed to be an automatic response to the strain on my psyche. It didn't bother me that much—at least the warmth of the tears helped to downplay the frigidity of my bedroom.

I think I was only semi-conscious at that point, because I have no memory of the following tour hours, though I am absolutely certain that I never fell asleep. On my honor as a kunoichi of Konoha, I can promise that I never shut my eyes.

The doorbell nearly made my heart stop as it broke through my deathlike trance. My head shot up in an instant, causing the dull ache near my temples to sharpen. My arms fell away from my calves as I reached up to grip my head, moaning quietly.

It was not at all helpful when I heard the gentle knocking on my bedroom door.

"Come in," I said through gritted teeth, curling back up as my mother opened the door.

She looked me over once or twice. "Oh, you're still in bed," she said, and then she turned to leave.

"Wait, Kaa-san. What did you want?"

She turned back to me slowly. "Your friend is here again, but you're obviously in no position to be going anywhere."

My limbs fell limply to my bed, and my Sasu-doll tumbled to the carpet. "Nani?! Lee-san's here?!" I shot out of bed—causing my head to spin—and fumbled to my calendar.

Aw hell! It's Saturday!

You're screwed, my second voice notified me as I shot a panicky glance to the clock. 8:01. You gotta hand it to him, Lee-san's timing is impeccable.

My horrified gaze drifted back to my mother, who was watching me with half-worried, half-amused eyes. "Okasan," I said quickly, trying to be as respectful and speedy at the same time, "could you please, please, please ask Lee-san to wait for me?!"

She glared at me through narrowed eyes. "That's hardly fair to Lee," she said coldly.

I just stared at her, trying to portray through my wide, desperate eyes how terribly important this was to my sanity. She just shook her head and said in a clipped tone, "Fine. But hurry."

"Domo arigato, Okasan! I love you so much!" I shouted as I ran into my bathroom.

In the corner of my mind, I remember her stunned face caused by my rushed declaration of affection. Not a good memory, seeing as I couldn't remember the last time I had said that to her.

Half an hour of rushed scrubbing and dressing later, I was running down the stairs, praying that there had been no sudden lapse in Lee-san's patience. My movements seemed too heavy and slow for my liking, and I was terrified that he would leave before I could get to him. Tears stung at the rim of my eyes at the idea of missing out on a chance to bask in the warmth that was my dear green-clad friend. That would be too much for me to handle. The tears had brimmed over by the time I finally reached the bottom of the stairs.

But of course, he was there, sitting patiently on my couch. My relief was so intense that my body pushed a small moan out of my throat. This instantly alerted him to my presence. He was on his feet in less than a heartbeat, and in front of me before I could take my next breath.

He studied my haggard appearance, obviously distressed by the transformation that had taken place since that last time he'd seen me, just a week ago. He touched my cold, wet cheek, pain obvious in his wide eyes. He didn't like seeing me like this any more than I did. Slowly, he stuck his weekly daisy behind my ear, using my hair to keep it in place.

This wordless display of affection sent me over the edge. Before I could register what the hell I was doing, my arms were around him, and I was sobbing. I buried my face into his green chest and let my tears soak his clothing, only dimly aware of the tension in his spine caused by my distraught touch. I did, however, notice quite profoundly when he wrapped his strong, yet very gentle arms around my frail, heaving body. He rubbed the small of my back with one hand, and left the other on the nape of my neck, caressing the hollow under my ear with his surprisingly soft index finger. It felt so good, this little show of tenderness, that I cried even harder.

Happy tears are so much warmer than ones caused by depression.

This is such a depressing fic. Will it get better soon? Well...eventually.

Ah, for those who don't know, Okasan is a more polite thing to call your mother than just Kaa-san.

Much ai to my fellow Narutards,
Miyazaki A2