Author's Note: Hi people! This update is earlier than usual but that's gonna be a one time thing. I have to go on a brief writing hiatus for a month maybe and I didn't wanna leave y'all on a cliff-hanger so we have this chapter rn!

Before y'all read, please note that this fic is an AU, non-canon compliant. I have taken a fuck ton of creative liberties. Your suspension of disbelief might be challenged heavily in this chapter but I hope y'all trust my vision or wtv for this fic?

Anyway, that's all I can provide as a heads up. Hope you enjoy! Read on!

Obito Uchiha doesn't know who he is any more.

Long ago, decades into the past, he'd been a shinobi of Konoha. He'd been six when he was a freshly admitted academy student with tales of grandeur filled in his head by his grandmother. He'd dreamt then, to be a capable ninja, to serve his village and his clan and protect those he held dear to himself.

He can admit he'd been naïve then. Unaccustomed to the daily violence their world was ridden with, unaware of the danger that lurked beyond his village's walls. He'd smiled easily, laughed at every bad joke he'd heard, hugged anyone who was willing to return it. He'd cried too, sometimes. When he'd glance at the picture frame of his parents and remembered their room lied empty, untouched for years.

He had felt emotions, then. So many of them, so diverse. Petulant indignation to boiling petty anger, bright happiness to gloomy sadness. His life was a vivid one, full of feeling and a sensation like a breath of fresh air–an indication of liveliness itself.

He remembers being elated at prospect of becoming chunin, he remembers the self-pride at having achieved that rank.

He remembers love.

He remembers walking into the training grounds, an excuse on the tip of his tongue and his eyes falling on his teammates. He knows he'd loved them so much, both of them. Still does. He remembers the immense respect that had filled him whenever Minato-sensei would smile and teach them techniques far beyond their level and believe in them to learn that move, master that attack.

He remembers a war and the constant apprehension that covered his sensei and his teammates. He remembers fighting, he recalls helplessness and he dreams of a boulder most nights.

ooo

The lines between who he had been and who he'd become probably started blurring when he awoke inside a cavern, alive and breathing after being convinced of his own death.

The old, frail-looking man had given him a cutting smile, and careful, soothing words as he'd healed Obito back to good health.

Madara Uchiha.

That was who the man was, alive despite his age, toeing the line between a mortal and an immortal. Borrowed time, Madara had said through a grim frown. I will wither one day.

Obito had been grateful for the man, still is somewhat but now he knows all that care, all that... affection had been a means to manipulate Obito, to mould him into a puppet, devoid of any individualism or true will. To craft Obito into another White Zetsu and make him a blind follower of the man.

It had taken him quite long to come to this realisation though.

He'd been a little fond of Madara in the months he'd spent rambling to the elderly Uchiha, telling him about Konoha, his family, his friends, his teacher, his home. Madara rarely told stories of his own and when he did, they were always vague, always held a tinge of deceitful restructuring but Obito didn't have many choices to complain about his company.

He'd always been aware that Madara hid things from him, no matter how transparent the old man tried to seem. He knew he'd been kept in the dark, he knew someone had visited their underground hideyhole every few weeks. He knew that someone had belonged to Konoha.

More than a decade later, he finally knows who it had been. Some konohan elder named Danzo Shimura.

ooo

A few weeks into his treatment, Madara had introduced Obito to White Zetsu and Tobi. They were some kind of clones, Madara had said. But whose clones? He hadn't bothered to inform Obito.

Obito knows though, whose DNA lives inside those creatures. Hashirama's. It's all so wrong, it makes his stomach turn and twist.

Yet those two had become his steady companions in that stretch of his solitude and isolation. He'd found he'd trusted them, atleast Tobi (White Zetsu fancied himself stoic and only occasionally deigned to add his two cents in a conversation, hence not endearing himself to Obito).

That misjudged trust hadn't lasted much.

It's not an easy thing to remember that night. It had been cold, unbearably so and the moon had looked oppressive in its brightness.

"They're going to kill those two human friends of yours!"

White Zetsu had stumbled inside with this news.

Somehow, Tobi had attached himself to Obito, strengthening his weak limbs and they'd escaped Mountains' Graveyard to stop his friends' deaths.

Instead of any rescuing, though, they'd walked into a scene that etched itself inside Obito's mind with the viciousness of sword through his heart.

He had been too late.

Rin's mouth was spitting blood, all colour had drained from her face as she stood in Kakashi's arms, one of which was impaling the girl.

He'd stood numb for a while. Witnessing Rin's death had somehow felt worse than going through his own. It felt like his insides were burning over hot coals and his eyes were too dry to ever express the sheer load of his grief.

The grief though had already tagged onto something uglier, something more sinister–rage.

He'd killed that day. For the very first time.

He'd killed them all.

All except Kakashi. Another person he loved–loves–fiercely.

Somehow, he knew. He just knew Kakashi hadn't killed Rin. The mortified look on his friend's face, the self-loathing and guilt he'd glimpsed had been enough to prove Kakashi innocent of this crime.

Rin had killed herself.

And the grief had returned, so intense that he had slumped onto the ground, palms smeared with the blood of a dozen Kiri nin and he'd howled a heartbroken cry.

Tobi, still attached to him, had murmured sweet nothings in his ear, telling him it was alright, it was all okay–but how could it be? He'd loved Rin goddamit! He'd loved her more than anything else in the world.

Once he'd ran out of tears, Obito had thought. He'd thought how Madara had been trying to convert him, trying to make him follow his insane plans. How Madara had probed and prodded till Obito had spilled his heart's truest secrets to the man, how he'd told in a soft, hesitant voice the names of the few people he loved more than himself.

He thought of how Madara had Kirigakure under his hold, how Black and White Zetsu frequented the village and brought in reports.

And suddenly, he knew. He knew who had orchestrated this all. He knew with absolute certainty why this all had happened, and why he was there.

Kakashi had still been a few metres away, unconscious but safe and Obito had bolted into the forest, found a spot and retched out the remnants of the food in his stomach. Tobi had stayed oddly silent, still snaked over his body. White Zetsu had disappeared.

He'd pulled up his knees, bent his head over and cried again till he was utterly exhausted. It hadn't been until he'd woken up, groggy and hungry that he'd realised his one eye had his Sharingan activated and it wasn't as ordinary as it had been before. It had evolved.

Obito hadn't celebrated. He had continued to mourn.

Then, White Zetsu was back with news of Madara's passing and Obito's whole world was snatched away from him.

ooo

Obito knows he should've anticipated it. Should've known that betrayal had to come.

The moment he'd said no to White Zetsu, told the creature he'd come to regard as some sort of confidant that he wouldn't follow Madara's will, wouldn't lift a single finger for the man, Tobi had tightened his malleable body around Obito's arms.

"Enough," Tobi had said, none of his characteristic cheer in his voice. He'd sounded vaguely panicked. "Don't be so foolish Obito. Please. You have to do what Madara had asked of you."

Obito had continued to refute his supposed responsibilities as Madara's successor, refused to do the man's bidding. He'd thought Tobi would understand–the clone had always craved freedom, asked Obito what it felt like. But White Zetsu had been vicious in his rebuttals, relentless in his pursuit to make Obito understand.

Obito had been tired. So fucking tired. He'd wanted to return, to go back to his village, fall into Minato's arms and cry his heart out. His heart felt so raw, so sore with all it had to bear.

It had come to blows, of course it had.

And when he'd tried to use his wood release, to his horror, he'd found Tobi's white, clay-like tissue spreading all over him.

Encasing him.

Ruling over him.

Using him as a marionette with strings attached.

This was the betrayal that had cost Obito half his life.

ooo

Obito had been a passive observer of his own body then. Tobi held the leash over him. Most of the time, Obito spent dozing. His focus shifted all the time and he couldn't tell most of what happened outside him

But he knew enough.

He'd seen enough. He'd seen so many deaths cocooned inside the whiteness of Tobi's body, felt a raging tsunami of varied emotions when his consciousness wasn't downing under Tobi's iron-grip will.

He knew Tobi could access all his powers, all his chakra. The clone had basically possessed him for the better part of a decade–and would've continued on if not for that night a week ago.

"I'm loyal to the man," Tobi had said when he'd finally let go of Obito's body. He'd sounded gratingly chirpy. "And he calls for me. Bye bye Obito! Don't miss me much!"

Tobi had shown Obito mercy. He could've killed him, Obito knew. But he felt bitter to his bones to express any gratitude to the creature that had imprisoned his independence, had stolen so much of his life from him.

Obito hadn't felt free in that moment. He'd only felt horribly lost.

Obito contains a sob of relief when he sees the huge red gates of his home village, takes a few minutes to compose himself and walks inside. By the entrance is the booth where the chunin guards stand at alert the moment they take in his appearance.

He knows he looks like a mess. He feels like a mess. He is a mess.

The whole of his right side is remade in a greyish white tissue cultivated with Hashirama's cells. No wonder Tobi had been able to take over his body so easily–their DNA hold similarities.

Obito looks at his tattered Akatsuki robe and wonders if he should've discarded it before entering. His pants are streaked with mud, so is his shirt and his cheek is swollen a horrible shade of blue courtesy of Tobi when he'd tried to stop that terrible minion of Madara

"Who are you, sir?" one of the shinobi manning the booth asks, warily taking a step towards him.

"Uchiha," Obito rasps, his voice hollow and hoarse despite Tobi's daily use of it.

"First name?" the other chunin asks, doing an admirable job of hiding his surprise. Obito knows there aren't many of his clan left any more.

"I need to see Kakashi Hatake," Obito says, trying his best to not disclose how desperately he wants this. "I'll not say more until I see the man."

"Without your full name, we will not send for any shinobi, Uchiha-san. Kindly cooperate," the first one says firmly, even though he looks a bit shaken up.

Obito takes a breath, steeling himself. This is his home, he reminds himself. This is the place he spent his childhood in. He can be true to the people here. He can trust them.

"Okay," he says. "My name is Obito Uchiha."

Both chunin seem visibly stunned.

"What the fuck?" Kakashi is already on his feet, glaring at Nagawami who stands fidgeting with his chunin vest. "Obito Uchiha is dead."

"That's what the man called himself, sir," Nagawami says, gulping and looking at the Hokage. "Please meet the man first and decide the merit of his given identity."

"Kakashi," Hiruzen mutters softly, standing up and placing a hand on the rigid jounin's back. "Let's have a look. I'm sure it's some misunderstanding."

Kakashi doesn't respond, instead he follows Nagawami out the door. "Get him to TI," he tells the chunin. "Follow standard protocols. But don't use chakra suppression seals."

Nagawami frowns, about to protest when Hiruzen speaks up, "Do as he says. We have reasons behind the order given, I assure you."

Nagawami nods swiftly and hurries outside the tower to retrieve the man that claims to be Kakashi's dead teammate. It makes Kakashi's teeth clench. His walk to the interrogation cell is tense. Fortunately, Hiruzen has the good sense to refrain from making mundane small talk in such a sensitive situation.

Inoichi and Ibiki are already in attendance and the group of four keep their alert gazes fixed at the entrance. It takes another few minutes before the gate is opened and Nagawami steps in with his hand clutched firmly on another person's arm.

Kakashi takes in an abrupt breath, eye impossibly wide as he takes in the appearance of his allegedly deceased friend.

Obito's right eye meets Kakashi's exposed one and he seems to crumple with such a deep emotion that Kakashi is momentarily shell-shocked. Then, Obito wrenches his hand free and runs straight towards Kakashi but Kakashi knows he won't be attacked, won't be in danger even though this man looks so different than the grinning Obito he'd once known.

Obito doesn't ask for permission, doesn't hesitate. He throws his arms around Kakashi and pulls the still-stiff jounin into a tight hug. Off-kilter, Kakashi fights against the sudden whirlwind of emotions that threatens to render him undone and gingerly wraps his arms around the body of a man he'd believed was long since a ghost.

"Kakashi," Obito whispers, something wet in his voice and he's shaking by the force with which he's holding Kakashi.

"...Obito?" Kakashi mutters, not quite believing his eyes and ears, just squeezing this body of his friend that is so warm, so alive. He feels like he's abandoned the rope that holds him in place and now he's falling, falling, falling, and yet he doesn't care. He doesn't care one bit because this is fucking Obito, the boy turned man whose death had always haunted him the most.

"Yes. It's me," Obito says with a half-sob, half-hysteric-laugh. He continues in a disbelieving tone, "I am alive."

"Obito," Kakashi repeats because he can't trust himself to speak any more. Can't trust himself to be capable enough to express in words the enormity of what he feels. He hopes the Obito understands what his unsaid words can't.

"I'm so sorry," Obito blurts, clutching the back of Kakashi's vest, digging his nails into the cloth and then the skin underneath. "I'm–Kakashi–fuck–I killed them Kakashi. I'm so, so sorry."

Before Kakashi can understand what that means, someone is separating the two, cutting short their embrace. Only then does Kakashi notice again the presence of the other shinobi around him. And yet, he can't help but keep his eyes glued to Obito, taking in his ragged, patched-up right side, his scars and his left eye that remains firmly shut. He notes the designs on his ratty cloak but he can't be bothered to think about its implications. The relief is too potent to mingle with any of his shinobi suspicions.

The others though aren't half as blinded with emotion as Kakashi is.

"Take a seat, Obito," Hiruzen orders in his no-nonsense voice and Kakashi knows the Kage is directing a chiding look at him. For losing control of his emotions, for making contact with an unknown shinobi–Obito has yet to prove he is actually Obito. However, Kakashi doesn't doubt it one bit. The pull of chakra in Obito's right eye resonates perfectly with the pull in his left, hidden one.

Obito's tired, tear-streaked face shows none of the joy it had held in his childhood but only a weariness that Kakashi's own reflects no doubt. Obito sits on the cool metal chair and slumps into it, the tension coiled within the Uchiha snaking away bit by bit.

"Inoichi, if you please," Hiruzen prompts and the Yamanaka head takes a step towards Obito, maintaining a safe distance between them. Kakashi notes, with a tinge of gratitude, that they haven't tried to restrain Obito up. They all know this isn't a normal, conventional interrogation. Not when they all hold hope that this isn't an enemy spy unlike the other cases.

"I will be entering your mind," Inoichi informs gently. "I will sift through your memories whether you allow me to or not. Though, it'll hurt marginally less if you let me do my job unhindered."

"I won't resist," Obito says, meeting Inoichi's eyes. "But... whatever you see, please give me a chance to explain myself, okay?" he turns towards Kakashi. "Don't, don't think the worst of me, alright?"

Kakashi swallows. Obito clearly has done something that's making him so guilty–were those apologies for that? But how could Kakashi ever judge Obito when he'd so utterly failed him and then broken the promise he'd made this man?

"I won't," Kakashi says, his voice coming out even. "Trust me, I won't."

And it hurts something fierce when Obito relaxes and turns ahead again, as if he still trusts Kakashi somehow, still holds his opinions in high regard. Kakashi can't help but think that this will all change when Obito learns about what happened to Rin, about who murdered her. He'll be ready then, to face Obito's hate. He knows he deserves it.

The next ten minutes pass by in silence, at the end of which Inoichi blinks and regains control of his body again and frowns in confusion.

"He is Obito," Inoichi says with certainty before adding, "But there's something wrong with his memories of the last eleven years. They're under a thick haze–as if he's lived that long under constant inebriation of sorts."

"I'll explain that later," Obito sighs. "Now what? Blood test?"

Ibiki motions towards Nagawami who exits and sends inside a med-nin who takes a bit of Obito's blood to match it with pre-existing records.

"Will you do some torture thing on me now?" Obito asks Ibiki. "Or do you all believe me?"

"We believe you," Hiruzen says and regards Obito with a burning curiosity that Kakashi has never seen in the Hokage before. "Now then, tell us what happened, when it happened and how it happened. That cloak tells me you have quite the story to tell."

Glancing at the Akatsuki's symbolic clouds, Obito grounds himself by pressing hardly onto the backrest. He looks at the four shinobi present before him now, and begins

He tells them everything.

He tells them about Madara and the White Zetsu. About Tobi and the Black Zetsu. He tells them about Danzo's visits and Madara's influence that led to Rin's death. He tells them about how he was there that night and he tells them (but looks only at Kakashi) how he knows Rin had chosen death to save her village. He tells them about Tobi's betrayal and his subsequent controlling of his body.

He says so much his throat is aching with the need for rest but he can't stop. He has to get everything out or he will never be able to.

He tells them about the helplessness of losing the ability to control one's body. He tells them about the times he'd tried to gain back his freedom but Tobi had found a way to drag him back into that sleepy haze. He tells them how he'd been able to witness what Tobi had made his body do that night when the kyubi had attacked Konoha. He tells them how his body was used to assist Itachi's clan massacre and he opens his left lid to show the eye implanted there by Tobi.

He talks about the Akatsuki and Tobi's success at roping Nagato into Madara and Danzo's plan. He talks about everything he knows and by the time his chest is heaving, Kakashi is already pressing a glass of water to his lips, forcing him to stop his rambling.

"Stop," Kakashi says softly. "This is enough. We know more than enough."

"No," Obito pushes the water away after a gulp. "You don't know half of it. I had to fucking watch myself murder so many and I couldn't do shit about it, Kakashi. I remember the blood on my hands, Kakashi. I remember the urge to vomit and I couldn't even do that because Tobi had such a tight hold on my entire body! You don't bloody get it–no one will get it. It is... It is... "

"Eating away at you," Kakashi says softly, pulling his chair a tad closer to Obito. "You know you aren't responsible for it all but you can't help but feel so because you were there and you couldn't do a thing and so it is your fault. You were incapable, you were not enough. You can't help but hold yourself accountable for all the shit you've seen. You can't help but blame yourself for it because that guilt is all too real."

Obito stares at Kakashi, wide-eyed, unable to say a word because whatever he could say, Kakashi already has. They've been apart more than decade and they're strangers to each other, two people who know each other's names and nothing more. And yet–yet they feel the start of an untamed kinship, an understanding that yes, I know how you feel.

And in that singular moment of shared empathy, Obito realises that he's well and truly home. At long last.

Naruto stares at himself in the mirror for a long time. He can't tear his gaze away from the... beautiful seal that marks his skin. There are no other words to describe it. It just is marvellous to behold.

Utterly complex yet weaved so simply. Naruto can see some matrix he recognizes but this isn't anything rudimentary. It's a creation of a master and Naruto's anxiousness over its meaning is shoved to the back of his head in favour of admiring its design.

He quickly gets a paper, ink and brush out. Sitting on the floor directly in front of his full-body mirror, he starts replicating the seal onto the page. He makes sure to keep some ends loose, some lines unconnected just in case. He doesn't want to accidentally trigger it–though he clearly knows this is a storage element seal. Its main objective is storing and filtering of chakra–which kind though? He'll have to study it further.

He knows this is a little too weird. To have such an elaborate seal on him while being wholly unaware of it sets off multiple warning bells in his head. He thinks about going to Sakura and asking his friend her opinion. Maybe consulting Iruka-sensei about it tomorrow?

He rolls over, lying on his stomach and scrutinises the seal drawn on the paper. He squints over the central part–its usually where the storage specifications are defined–and tries to understand the mess of symbols. It looks frankly like a toddler's messy scribble but everything here makes sense, somehow, everything is interconnected and interwoven so well that Naruto is left in awe.

He chews on the inside of cheek, shoots up and grabs his sealing book. He flips through page after page and looks at the pre-existing, basic arrays for every type of storage seal provided in the chapters.

He pauses at a chapter. Sentient Chakra Sealing. There's something familiar about the figure here, something that resembles his stomach seal's central part somewhat. But the figure is for sentient chakra sealing in inanimate objects.

He's certainly not an inanimate object.

He scrunches up his nose in thought. Can the design for such a seal in regards to living things be similar? It can't be that simple, can it? What about the other elements of the seal? What's the filtering for? The array for emotional trigger? What's the kanji for... sacrifice doing there?

It's all a jumble. Naruto decides to sleep on it and find out any book he can on sentient chakra sealing in humans as soon as he's able to.

Reluctantly, he tucks the paper into a file he keeps in his cupboard. It stores all his previous attempts at seal making. He doesn't let go of the monograph though. He had wanted to read the last page tomorrow but something compels him to go through it right now, to see what his sensei-in-a-way has to say.

He collapses on the futon and goes to the last page. He reads, as slowly as he can.

[My dear readers,

I end this book in the form a letter because it seems the only appropriate way to end it. I may not know who you are, why you read this book but I'm sure you know much more about me. I've poured a bit of myself into this book and I hope you've learnt some useful things from it.

I must warn you, for the final time, that sealing is a dangerous shinobi art. It is much more subtle than nin or tai but holds the potential to be much more vicious than them, too. Uzumakis, like myself, wield knowledge about sealing and we endeavour to wield it responsibly. I hope you will do the same and carry on creating seals as my legacy left in this world.

Seals protect and seals attack, remember. They do what you want them to. But some seals take from you as much as you take from it. Do not exploit seals, do not misuse the knowledge you have of them.

As a personal request, please spare this world more bloodshed. This book doesn't provide information about violent seals but it provides the basis of them. I can only hope the knowledge this book spreads is in good hands.

That will be all. I have said everything I've wanted to. Do well, reader. Be well.

With blessings,

Katsuri Uzumaki.]

Naruto clutches the book to his chest and doesn't stop the few tears that flow out. He feels closer to his clan now, to the family he's never seen, never known. To his parents, names of whom he isn't aware of.

He feels closer to himself.

The next time he introduces himself to someone, he'll hear the pride that'll come flowing out with his surname and he'll not curb it. He'll never curb it.

His clan is his. It doesn't matter that most of his clan's members are dead. He is not and so he'll make the most of it.

He sleeps with the monograph still pressed in his arms.

The next day, Sasuke doesn't show up to the Academy. Neither does Kakashi-sensei. It worries Naruto–he knows Sasuke never bunks. The Uchiha is frustratingly sincere when it comes to his education and training–to the point of over exertion sometimes.

"He's sick," Chouji tells Naruto when he expresses his concerns to the group. "Iruka sensei said so when I asked him."

"Oh," Naruto blinks. "He never falls sick."

Sakura shrugs, "Well there's always a first time for things. He's probably caught the flu going around the village. My mom's friend contracted it this week as well."

"I guess so," Naruto says with a smile. He's not convinced though. He keeps those suspicions to himself. He doesn't want to rouse unwarranted worry inside them if he's wrong. For the same reason, he doesn't tell them about the seal. He knows Sakura and Shikamaru will fret over it and he needs some time and space to figure out the seal. He'll tell them if it's something bad, he decides. But only when he's certain about it.

During lunch, Naruto drags Shikamaru over to their nook and pulls him down. They sit, cross-legged, hidden amongst shadows. It's their little secret-sharing space–only recently discovered but it is already somewhat sacred for them.

"Did your dad slip up at all?" Naruto asks once they're relaxed.

"No," Shikamaru says, and the disappointment is clear on his face. "He won't tell me a thing. He said I'm a little too young for him to divulge such information to. He's missing his right ear and he expects me to not ask him about it? He's honestly dense sometimes."

Naruto cracks a smile at that, "He's probably just looking out for you. Parents mean well most of the times, right?"

"They do," Shikamaru agrees. He knows parents are a sore subject for Naruto and he doesn't want the blond brooding about it right now. So he steers the conversation back on topic, "Heard any new rumours?"

"Nah. The same ones. Some elder went bad. Missing cases about many children were suddenly resolved. The usual stuff. I tried asking Iruka-sensei but as expected, he didn't say anything."

Shikamaru rolls over the information they have so far in his head and after some consideration, he says, "We can try asking Sai about it directly maybe."

Naruto blinks. "You think we haven't tried that already?"

Now, Shikamaru blinks. "We have? Well, what did he say?"

Naruto huffs, a little irritated sound. "He said 'I'm not at liberty to disclose information about my former place of residence and guardian.' Such uppity language– that Sai knows just how to piss me off sometimes.

"You're just offended that he called you a gasbag," Shikamaru says. His lips quirk upwards in a teasing half-smile.

"No," Naruto glares at him. "I'm not so immature, y'know? Besides, he called you a sloth. That's way more offensive that gasbag okay?"

"Okay," Shikamaru is still smiling. "If you say so."

Naruto groans, "No–this calm conceding thing is like you won! 'Cause you still get the last word!"

"Oh?" Shikamaru raises a brow. "Really? I had no clue, Naruto. I wouldn't have dared win a verbal fight against you, of course."

"You are such a jerk, Shikamaru," Naruto grumbles, crossing his arms but his lips are twitching and the smile isn't as suppressed as he wants it to be.

"Thank you for the heartfelt compliment," Shikamaru says dryly.

"Ugh blah blah kala bhaj lak bak," Naruto retorts.

Once the day's classes are over, Naruto promises Sakura and the rest to meet at their usual spot in the evening and takes his leave. He doesn't go home. He takes a beeline straight towards the Uchiha compound. He really wants to see for himself if Sasuke is doing fine. He'll just discreetly make sure that his friend's alive and all and then just go back home. He's decently stealthy, he can pull it off.

The gates are big and weather-worn but Naruto pays them no mind as he slips inside the district. He actually doesn't know where exactly Sasuke lives but he can find the only house with life in it–he's sure. He sticks to the walls of the shops and buildings, using their cover to tiptoe through the property.

He sees it. The biggest house in the compound–the garden is in full bloom while the other courtyards lay barren. The front door is pulled open and one light is switched on, on the second floor despite it being day time. He creeps forward and angles his body so he can walk behind the walls that surround the house.

He can hear faint noises coming from the backyard and he slowly makes his way towards it. He spots Sasuke first, standing tall with a look of discomfort plastered on his face. His eyes go over the man next, who is dressed in civilian clothing but his face is half-white. He's saying something, fast and soft. The man is clearly related to Sasuke somehow– they share some features but it doesn't matter whoever this person is. Sasuke looks very uncomfortable and the man isn't taking a single hint.

Without thinking too about it, Naruto springs up and marches upto the two of them.

"Oi! Mister!" he points a finger at the stranger. "Stop talking! Can't you see that Sasuke doesn't like it!"

The man stops, looks at him and blinks owlishly.

"Oh god," the man says after a minute. He sounds awestruck. "Kakashi! Look what I found! A mini Minato-sensei!"

Author's Note:

So, this chapter was very angsty honestly. But I couldn't help it. I wanted to draw their reconciliation even further actually but then I had to stop because I had to explain alot in one chapter. The Tobi encasement thing is what he did to Yamato during the war. I have taken all author-magic-abilities to make Tobi capable of doing so for whole decade. I'd like to think it makes sense but who knows.

Obito will have alot of healing to go through before he's comfortable in his own skin. And Kakashi's gonna get some much needed emotional expression instead of repression.

Naruto, well, he's gonna dig his nose deep into his own secrets–atleast if Kakashi stays distracted and doesn't do his job.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! All feeback's is welcome, just keep it respectful!

Thank you loads for reading!

Have a nice day. :))