A/N: At some point, I'm going to go back and edit some of the grammar/spelling on the previous chapters that I somehow missed. I type this in Word which does its spell check, use the free Grammarly to spell check, then skim it myself and I still miss shit. The only way my brain notices these things is when I read it on my phone. Plus, I forgot that the page breaks in Word don't carry over to FF so I have to add the missing ones for consistencies sake. But, I also want to push these out while I have the motivation. I'm a hypocrite and while I hope you all enjoy this story and its updates, I never read in-progress fics because I love to binge and hate the anxiety. So I'm tryna push these out so it's not as bad because the waiting sucks.

It was getting easy for Kyoko to forget how dangerous this whole situation was. Itachi made it easy; he kept them to a strict schedule and the routine of it all was soothing in its predictability. It was something she found she was relying on; it was so consistent. He would knock on her door every day just after dawn and continue in the same way they had since that first day. Itachi cooked breakfast, they ate together, she did the dishes, and then they trained. Just like the first day, he made her run until she was near collapse. She was getting faster and didn't tire as easily, but that just meant she ran for longer. She supposed that was the point. He only allowed her to stop running when he finally decided she had done a 'sufficient' job. This only happened when she was so physically tired, she felt on the verge of collapse.

As soon as they were done, she showered and changed into whatever it was that had been left for her. She was still wearing a mix of the clothes Itachi had loaned her and the awful clothes Konan had given her in the beginning. Things were going so well that she was too nervous to ask how to get any other clothes. She was beginning to wonder who was washing these clothes because it was not her. From the beginning, Konan had told her to simply deposit the dirty clothes in the basket they left in the bathroom and the next day clean clothes were laid out. It was something she tried not to dwell on it.

This was the time he had left her to fend for herself, but even during this time, she kept to a routine. The routine was easy, and it reminded her of university life. Only, she was training with a shinobi and reading about chakra instead of attending lectures and reading art history. It was easier to pretend it was more alike than it was dissimilar.

Initially, she had studied at the desk in her room, but she stopped after about a week. With only the fluorescent lights and small window, it didn't make for a great spot. She had always preferred studying outside or in the kitchen, even when she was in high school, they had been her go-to spots. Something about the desk just felt so artificial. The desk that had just suddenly appeared while she had been in the shower. The desk she still hadn't thanked Itachi for, because who else would have done it? But he never brought it and so neither did she. She figured it was easier on both of them that way.

Instead, she studied in the small kitchen, the lighting was nice, and she hadn't seen anyone in there besides Deidara and Itachi, so it felt… she didn't want to say safe. She didn't want to feel safe here, but the word was coming easier. She blamed it on the routine.

Today was only slightly different in that she had pushed two tables together instead of taking up only one. She had the books Itachi had given her open and her notes scattered across the table. She was having trouble understanding the whole chakra thing. Understanding the theory of it all was simple enough, but she had no idea how to access it. Itachi claimed that she had a satisfactory reserve of chakra and that she should be able to access it. She couldn't. She had been trying for the past couple of weeks now, and whatever she was supposed to feel, she just didn't.

She groaned loudly and let her forehead fall to the table, reading the same chapter explaining it all was not helping like she hoped it would. Itachi was a good teacher, he was detailed and thorough, and while most of her questions about Akatsuki went unanswered, he did answer questions about jutsu and chakra. It just wasn't helping her use it any better. Reading about it again was only giving her a migraine. Kyoko lifted her head and started rubbing her temples in soothing circles to try to alleviate it.

'Deep breath'

Thinking it was probably time to switch to something else, she set the book aside and pulled the one about the Third Great Shinobi War. Kyoko hadn't been a big fan of history class, but this read more like a fantasy novel than a history text. Albeit a dark novel full of death and tragedy. Only, today she just couldn't get into it. The words were blurring together, and her migraine was getting worse, the lights were starting to feel too intense.

She pushed the book aside. The migraine wasn't going to let her get any work done. When Itachi came by for lunch, she was just going to have to look stupid when he asked her questions. Where was he anyways? She glanced at the windows behind her, the rain wasn't as heavy today, and the sun was shining behind the clouds. It had been difficult to tell the time at first, but the longer she was here the more she had adjusted to it. The way the shadows fell, it looked like it was a little past midday, so he should be here soon. She would just sit and wait.

Except, sitting there waiting with nothing to do wasn't much better. It gave her time to think, and when she had too much time to think… The strict regimen Itachi had set often left her too tired to think outside the immediate task of learning everything she could as fast as she could. Which was good, because when her thoughts wandered, she thought too much of home. Thinking of home brought on a whirlwind of emotions that always threatened to drown her and never let go. It was easier not to think about it.

Kyoko felt herself start to fidget, which was absurd because she had never been overly anxious before any of this. She tried to redirect the energy into something productive by cleaning up the tables and separating them back out. It was as she was putting her notes back in order and shoving them into the journal that she realized she could try to draw. She hadn't even attempted it yet; she blamed it on exhaustion and the strict routine, but she knew that wasn't the only reason.

Honestly, she was just afraid.

Her hands were healed, and she had kept up with exercises Konan had taught her. She hadn't had any trouble with her range of motion, and yet… so much about this body was different. It seemed silly, but what if when she picked up that pencil, her hands didn't obey as they should? What if the talent she had put her heart and soul into honing was just gone?

She was reminded of that first conversation with Deidara. They had a few opportunities to speak since, but it was always brief and he spent half the time trying to get a rise out of Itachi, which didn't work but he tried anyways. Nothing they talked about was quite like that first one, where he had called her a spoiled brat and told her off for giving up at the first obstacle. This wasn't much different, and this was something she could know now. Deciding to ignore her fears and her doubts, she flipped to the last pages of the journal, turned herself towards the window, and started drawing.

This view of Amegakure had become so familiar to her, her first true look at the village that was more of a city. As she sketched it out, she discovered that her fears had been unfounded. The journal was small, so she focused on drawing a few of the buildings that were closer together rather than the whole skyline. She took her time, adding each detail she could see, shading to get the lighting just right. If there was nothing else that would ground her, this always would.

She nearly jumped out of her skin and ruined the whole thing when she heard the opening and closing of the cabinets. Kyoko knew before she even looked that it was Itachi; Deidara was always too loud even when he wasn't wound up. He looked the same as ever since all his clothes were nearly identical, he had changed into a long sleeve version of his typical shirt after training.

A part of her was starting to feel the tiniest bit guilty about him cooking constantly, but it wasn't like she hadn't offered. He just ignored her when she talked about it. Her best guess was that he was just as regimented about what he put in his body as he was about her training. She could imagine he would say something about a shinobi's diet being just as part of their training… or something. Either way, if he was going to ignore her offers of help, that was on him.

She returned to her sketching, hoping to be done with it by the time Itachi was done making lunch. As soon as they were done eating, he was going to start quizzing her on what she understood and remembered. That always left her mentally drained, she felt like she was giving an oral report that she hadn't had time to prepare for. The slight ache behind her eyes from the migraine wasn't helping any.

He was setting the food on the table just as she was finishing up, she didn't need to look to know he would seat himself at the next table over and that he had made chicken, rice, and vegetables… again. The longer she was around Itachi, the more she felt that he just enjoyed the simplicity in his life. His clothes had very little variation, he cooked the same three meals each day, and he started and ended the day with her at the same times. It was extremely boring, but it did make the time pass in a blur, she had lost track of the days again and the less she knew about it the less she could agonize about how much time she had lost.

"You are an artist."

Her eyes snapped up to look him in the eyes, he never spoke until after he had finished eating. Itachi wasn't exactly a conversationalist, and he wasn't what she would call expressive. Most of the time when he spoke to her it was out of necessity for the moment, and the most facial expression she ever got out of him was a raised eyebrow. Just now though, he looked almost… curious? Or at least his version of it.

"Yes," she answered slowly, though he hadn't said it like a question, "I thought you knew that."

"You were an art student," he said the words oddly as if he did not truly understand what they meant.

"Well… yeah. I'm confused, is there a question, here?" Hadn't he seen her memories?

Itachi's eyebrows drew together ever so slightly at her response, another expression she had not seen on his face. He was so painfully neutral that even the slightest change was noticeable, especially when she had been for him in the face every day for weeks. "You love art," he persisted with his observational statements instead of just asking whatever it is he wanted to know.

Well, she wasn't going to entertain this, whatever he wanted to know, he was going to have to come out and ask it. Her head was aching, and the fluorescent lights were particularly bright day. "You saw my memories, I'm not sure what you expect me to say but if you have a question, then ask it. Maybe I'll answer it," she replied smugly. For once, she had the answer to something he wanted to know.

The corners of his lips pulled down the slightest bit and she swore his eyes narrowed at her. Was he… was he scowling at her? She was suddenly reminded of the video games that Toshiro had a penchant for playing. 'New facial feature unlocked.' It was tempting to laugh at Itachi, but she was already pushing the boundaries of what she thought he might tolerate. It was only when she had finished eating and started washing the dishes that he finally spoke again. She had almost been convinced that he would never humble himself to ask her whatever it was he wanted to know about her.

"The Sharingan was able to view your memories. It is… comparable to still images. They are out of context."

It still wasn't a question, and she still had no idea what he was getting at, so she stayed silent and continued with her task. If he had just asked the question, he would have known the answer by now. She couldn't fathom what he would want to know about her that he hadn't already seen. He moved so silently that she was startled when was standing beside her holding out his empty dish. That was… odd. Itachi had just typically washed his dish when he was done, not that she minded, they were just dishes. It was just odd that he was going so far out of the norm they had established.

She could see him standing there out of the corner of her eye, he had that same scowling expression on his face. Was he ever going to come out with it? It was like he was trying to use his sheer will to get her to answer… whatever it is he wanted to know.

"You had an opportunity," he spoke slowly, "to attend a prestigious university."

Still not a question, but she was afraid he would eventually lose that patient, "Yes, I did."

"You did not go."

Was that what this was about? The university she didn't go to? "You saw that I didn't."

"Why?"

Oh. He was just irritated that he didn't understand. Well, that was… anticlimactic. "Well, it's sort of complicated. Aren't you supposed to be quizzing me right about now, anyways? You already know that I still have more reading to do afterward."

"We will double up the chapters tomorrow," his eyes were still narrowed, and he looked… determined? It was easier to see the minute changes in his face, but it was still difficult to interpret them.

"How is that fair to me? You want to know something, so tomorrow I have to spend twice as long proving I'm not an idiot and be twice as tired? All because you're curious?" As soon as she finished washing and drying the last dish, she turned to face him. She crossed her arms in front of her and shot him a scowl of her own, thoroughly exasperated by his sudden mood swing.

"The world is not fair."

Kyoko shook her head again; she wasn't going to give in to his nonsense just because he was in a mood. It's not as if he was going to start answering her questions in turn. "I'm not asking you to make the whole world fair, I'm asking you to be reasonable considering you are the one asking me for something. Which, might be funny if I didn't already have a migraine and you weren't scowling at me."

"I do not scowl."

"You are literally scowling, right now," even before she finished her sentence his face was pulled into his usual expressionless face. He did it with such a quickness that she now wondered if his face was naturally blank or if it was something he had to work at.

The blank look on his face was eerie now as he stared at her. "We will skip the morning drills."

"So, your version of compromise is me doing the worst part of it? I will do double drills if you cut out running."

Silence.

"It's one day. If being one day short of running is what makes the difference and I end up dying, I was doomed to start with," she offered.

"Double drills," he consented.

She rolled her eyes, "You are going to be very disappointed. It's not that great of a story." He said nothing and just stared intensely at her, waiting for her to offer up her explanation. It wasn't that great of a story.

It was awkward with him standing directly in front of her just looking intently at her. They made plenty of eye contact when he was explaining things or instructing her on drills, and it's not like she was particularly uncomfortable with eye contact. He was just being particularly intense right now, and it was not something she appreciated. The migraine wasn't helping with her tolerance of his odd behavior. She walked away from him and sat back at the table, she flipped a page in the journal and started sketching as she explained.

"Okay, well… Just stop me if any of this is redundant, I don't know how much you figured out for yourself," she glanced over to where he still stood in the kitchen, and he nodded in response. "Okay. Well, that boy I was with the night… you know. His name is Toshiro, and we grew up together basically. Our moms met when we were little, and they got really close. That's a whole separate story actually," she was trying hard to stay on topic. "Anyways, we've always been close. I didn't have any siblings, so he kind of was a brother to me." It hurt to think of him, she had been avoiding thinking of any of them the last few weeks.

"His mom got sick towards the end of high school, and he practically lived with us. Toshiro's dad left a long time ago, I don't think he ever actually met him," she was rambling. "Well, his mom died, and he was alone, and that… that was hard. He changed after that, I mean he was still Toshiro, but he was… it was harder for him to be alone; I think. So, when we started applying for universities, we applied to the same ones for the most part." She paused to look at her sketch and frowned, some of the details were off.

"Except for the one you wanted," Itachi filled in what she wasn't saying.

"Yeah, basically. I mean, he didn't apply to that exact one. It's an art school in this big city in a whole different country, a whole other continent, and it's… well it's one of the best art schools there is. I didn't even think I would get in, I mean, I'm good but I'm not that good. It was a pipe dream, just to say I tried," she elaborated. She could still remember the shock from when she got that letter. Her mother had never been so ecstatic, she just sobbed uncontrollably and repeated how proud she was over and over. It was her mother pushing her that she had to thank for even being able to apply to a school like that. "Anyways, Toshiro applied to a school nearby, but he didn't get in. I thought about going anyways for about half a day, but I just felt so guilty. He was alone, and we had always been together, how could I leave him? It's not like there weren't other art schools."

"You stayed for him."

Kyoko squinted at her the drawing on the page; it was looking better but the shading was off. "Yeah. He needed me. I mean, my parents would have been there for him, and I would have called him. I wouldn't have abandoned him completely. It just felt… it felt selfish to go. I had both my parents and I got into the school I wanted. It just didn't feel fair that he would have to stay behind while I went and had everything. Then we both got into a good school in Tokyo and that was that. It still had a great art program, so it's not like I threw away my education."

"Do you regret it?"

"No!" she exclaimed and then winced as the pain in her head worsened. "I learned a lot last year and they even had some adjunct professors that were involved in the art world. I think I would have regretted it more if I had left him behind and something happened to him."

Itachi stared at her with a new intensity, "If you had gone you might not have ended up here."

"Maybe," she admitted, "but I can't know that. I still don't even know how all this happened. I still can't remember past the bathroom." A chill ran down her back and she shuddered at the memory of when she woke up here.

"You made a personal sacrifice to do the right thing."

"I guess? Honestly, it was less doing it because it was right and more that I didn't think I could live with the guilt. Maybe if I had gone, I would have ended up dropping up and coming home anyways, and then I still might have ended up here." It was all circumstantial, and it didn't matter. She was here, Toshiro was alone, and whatever she had decided didn't matter now. "I think you're looking for more meaning here than there actually is," for a while, they said nothing. She continued to finish her sketch in silence, trying to recall the image from memory. It was always more difficult without a reference.

It had been strange, telling him about Toshiro, he had been the last person she saw before she came here. Not for the first time, she wondered if he was still looking for her. Was he consoling her mother? Was he angry with her for leaving him alone? Kyoko could only hope that her father was keeping them in check. They weren't very close, not like she was to her mother, but he had always been the most reasonable and level-headed one of them.

'My head is killing me'

She inspected her sketch; it was as good as it would get without a reference. Considering her migraine, it wasn't too bad. It was a simpler landscape from before Toshiro's mom had gotten sick, they had all vacationed together and she could still remember the way the sunset and the feeling of contentment. It was the last summer before she had gotten sick.

The pain was getting worse. The light was almost blinding, she shut her eyes tight against it as her eyes watered. "My head hurts, I think I'm going to rest early," she muttered. She opened her eyes again, trying to will it away as she reached to gather up her things.

"Leave it, no one will disturb it."

She wasn't in a position to argue with him, it would just have to be fine. The pressure behind her eyes was starting to make her feel nauseous, she needed to lie down soon. She clenched her teeth against the pain as she stood and walked towards her room. There was no sound of footsteps to prove it, but she swore she could feel Itachi behind her. As soon as she placed her hand on the door handle, she found she was right.

"Would he have done the same?"

Kyoko went inside and closed the door behind her, leaving him without his answer. As she lay down to sleep, she wasn't sure she knew the answer.