A/N: While reading this, I suggest you listen to "Home" by Michael Bubble. It makes it better, in my opinion. This is actually canon Naruto, for once...written before the destruction of Konoha, and just after Itachi died, so please ignore where it deviates from the actual plot line.

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While I had been in Konoha, it had been easy to ignore you, to not think too much about you, and why you acted how you did...why you were who you were. As soon as I left, though, I couldn't get you out of my mind.
At first, it was easy to write the feeling off as worry- had that last chidori really killed you, or had you somehow survived? But then I started to hear the stories of your accomplishments, and rumors about Jaraiya's new student. Even though your name was never once mentioned, I knew that the old pervert wouldn't have taken anyone else as his student.
And I started to think about you again. So many things that I had never cared to notice suddenly seemed glaringly obvious. Like how you, at the same age as the rest of us, had already taken the Genin test twice. We all assumed you were a simple-minded idiot, yet you were two years ahead of us. And that happy mask of yours- even the most optimistic fool couldn't stay that cheerful after everything you went through. I can't help but realize now that you were hurting just as much as I was, yet you didn't want us to worry.

And when we finally saw each other again three years after I left, I finally saw through that mask. You looked up at me with such trust, but I could hear the pain and betrayal when you spoke. As if you knew I wouldn't kill you, but that I also wasn't coming back. But your eyes said you were done waiting- that no matter what I did, you were finally ready to bring me home.
So I left. I think I was in denial by then. I didn't want anyone to disprove what I had been telling myself for over a year- that I was tired of running, tired of lying. I refused to admit that I didn't want to deal with Orochimaru's schemes anymore, that I didn't want to destroy Itachi.
But part of me still hated Itachi, and wouldn't rest until he was dead. So I continued to train, until I could defeat Orochimaru. I was no longer okay with him taking my body, and he had no more to teach me. Soon after, I met up with Itachi. I knew you weren't far behind, but maybe I didn't really mind that. Looking back, I think I actually wanted you there, wanted you to take me home after. But Madara got there first.
He told me everything- the truth about Itachi, and the slaughter of the Uchiha. At first, I didn't believe it. But, as I thought more, I realized it was true- my brother had always valued the safety of the village over everything else, what else would make him kill his own family?
Once more I got caught up in plans of revenge. And once more, I started to think of you. I could practically hear your voice, screaming that I was being an idiot. I suppose you had become my conscience, somewhere along the way. But nothing could convince me that it was wrong to blame an entire village for the mistake of a few old men.
Until I ran into you again. You sounded so pathetic, begging me to come back now that Itachi was dead. So I told you everything. At first you didn't want to believe it, but something convinced you, somehow. I still don't know what that something was.
And that was when you swore to me that they would be punished, the ones who made my brother's life a living hell. Said that if anyone in the village had known, then Itachi would have been praised, not hated. And then you screamed, trying to convince me that it wasn't the village's fault. Tears ran down your face, and once again I ran away, unable to face you.

But I couldn't get you out of my head- tears pouring down your face, screaming angrily at me. It reminded me of when we were on Team 7, with Kakashi and Sakura. And for the first time, I realized how much I missed it. For the first time in years, I thought about Konoha without rage or indifference. It brought a fierce ache to my chest, and that was the first time I thought 'I want to go home...'.
And the thought wouldn't leave. One night, after weeks of stalling, I finally gave in. I couldn't take the pain, the loneliness, anymore.
The letter I wrote to you was short, just three sentences.
"It'll all be alright.
I'll be home tonight.
I'm coming back home."
I didn't sign my name.

And now, as I stand in your apartment, watching you stand in front of me with my note clutched tightly in your hand, I know I made the right choice.
As you hug me, tears streaming silently down your face, I slowly, hesitantly hug back, and say one thing.

"I'm back."

And through your tears, muffled by my shoulder, I hear you say,

"You're home."

And though I won't admit it, I know you're right.

I'm home.