Hullooo, so English is not my first language and i apologize in advance for every mistakes that will certainly be found. I'm doing this for fun so i do not care that much about the quality of my writing so it's not reaaally that good. But I nonetheless hope it will entertain you to read it as much as it did for me to write it.

Ah ! I almost forgot, Im taking liberties here with Kakashi and what it mean to be a part of the Hatake clan, their characteristics, the specifities of their white Chakra and all that jack.

All yours,

It's the smell that tell Kakashi something is wrong first.

Not the lack of it mind you, Hatake's have sharp noses, and Kakashi is one milestone genius of a century, so the wolf traits that define the bloodline of his clan are that more potent in him than in any other offspring they might have spouted once. Or anyone, ever.

The point is, he always smell something. Even if there's nothing to scent.

But, the matter is what he can take of his current environment with eyes closed, is all wrong.k

Like, very wrong.

When he fell asleep in Konoha last night, the mix of wood, leave, dirt and metal wire were the familiar trait of the air around him and all he was taking in without even trying to. When he was usually breathing in the scent of the place, the deeper he went, and more the more it smelled like the river near the village who sustained all of the forest of the land of Fire, the damp soil who made the climate of the spring night fresh but still warm and a bit humid, whereas the summer night stayed a tropical heat. He could smell the Winter, always dry with a permanent blue sky and cold wind, rarely followed by snow, but with one every year nonetheless. The Autumn with some rainy weeks but more sunny days than cloudy ones-

Right know, there was only the overwhelming and infinite sense of the ocean. the uncertainty and inconsistancy of it-

Only the scent of salt breeze, faint wood and deep wrongness to take in.

Where in the sage did he land ?

Because for all his senses going haywire they're might be a reason that didn't occur to him that explain it all.

He may had landed in Kiri in his sleep, or kidnapped and brought there which for one was improbable and second, was just...Rin,Packsister, they took her, he was supposed to protect her, killed her, killed pack with bare hand- the haunting song of dissolving bones, the squelch of burned human flesh under his palm and-

-It's not a good though to dwell on.

(Kakashi feel again the urge to go clean his hand until the skin of it is red and hurt whenever he graze something with it, until pain pulse form it making it hard to hold anything )

And more importantly than any other reason listed, Kiri like all place in the elemental country he had once visited and worked in, have a specific scent innate of its land that Kakashi had memorized to its core.

While Kiri smell slightly of sea-salted air it's easily overpowered by the sheer humidity that reign in it, always trapped by the mountain surrounding the land, it's petrichor and fungus, with the mud always drenched by the river and the many lakes in the country; the permanent mist surrounding the coast. It's rainy, suffocating your lungs.

Here, wherever the fuck it is. It's dry, like wave crashing on the sand heated by a bright naked sun on a blue sky. Without cloud. The air is fresh, full of salt that tell him how much water there must be nearby, the wind is clear, strong, singing it's free traveling by miles on the sea, and carrying a million of scent. Carrying a million of incertain changing weathers.

All he can hear in it is the seagulls, many other bird he doesn't recognize and the lulling of the tide. All this noise far away from the rustling of the leaves the crack of trees the shark bark of dogs and the mushing of deer-

He never felt so far away from home.

So lost.

And-

And something in the air sing. It's a very unsettling thing. Similar to Hashirama Wood. Here, it's feel like the air, the ocean, everything carrie an ancient song. The air splitting under what feel like a very long and forgotten lullaby, as if the voice had been traveling for thousand of years, not expecting to be heard anymore-

It tell him anyway there is no coming back home.