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He had no compass. He had no purpose, and because of that, and because she didn't realize what she needed to do with him, he was fading away. It was a kind of decay, a slow hollowing from the inside that was leaving him less from moment to moment, and she was still far too uncertain of her position in his life to do anything about it.
He understood, and there was no blame. He immersed himself in the village, those parts he was permitted, and worked whatever missions were handed to him from time to time. He played up the demure, and didn't admit when it wasn't an act.
He faded into the role and became the girl he was pretending to be, because being who he really was was not option at all. Uchiha Itachi was dead, and had been dead for quite a while.
Just because he was here now didn't mean he could step in and be that someone, nor that he should. He'd seen the mistakes of those who wore his face once too many to jump in and make them himself, so instead he contented himself, focusing on the person he was with, a echo of someone else, but not the same at all.
He was glad the differences were as strong as they were, sometimes, because they let him breathe. He could focus on training in ways he wasn't used to with her, and treat her as her own person without worrying that he was giving her the unfairness of seeing someone else over her shadow.
He knew how painful that could be and desired to never inflict it on someone else.
It left him with a quandary however.
He couldn't ask of her things that he would ask someone who knew him better, and he wouldn't thrust his issues into her lap and expect her to care about them.
So, he faded, curling up inside the persona he'd taken up, which was truer than he liked to pretend, and made sure that he kept how ill he really was very firmly under wraps.
He didn't, after all, wish to trouble her.