Yamato always felt somewhat nude without his head-protector on. While he wouldn't have volunteered the information to anyone less than the Hokage, it was the helmet which helped keep him grounded at all times. Ever since the genetic experiments that had almost killed him those years back, Yamato had been uncomfortable being away from the very wood he could call upon and shape to his will.
Even now, as he regarded the gear, settling back in his chair and twisting off the top of his soda can with a satisfying hiss, Yamato felt nude without it. He'd once described the feeling as a child. He'd said then it was like having an army of invisible ants marching across his skin dragging grains of sand and salt, alternately making him shiver in cold and writhe in heat.
It was a specialized hell he only visited on choice occasions. Like now, for his supreme indulgence of the ages. Yamato smiled. Naruto would have been freaked out. Sakura would have taken it as a sign of Yamato's humanity. Sai wouldn't have cared any more than Sai generally seemed to care about anyone who wasn't a drawing in his book or proving their brotherhood in the most physical way possible.
"One sandwich to rule them all, one sandwich to bind them. One sandwich to bring them all and in the darkness," he quipped, rubbing his belly in idle amusement, "Bind them."
The helmet sat, watching in eyeless envy as Yamato devoured his bacon, lettuce, tomato bliss with a look of unadulterated joy on his face. It hated Super Special Sandwich Sundays. Though they, like Christmas, at least only came once a year.