The gentle night enshrouded the residential district of the Uchiha, and even the roadsides were illuminated by warm streetlamps.
This was completely different from the somewhat lonely clan land on the edge of the village in Sasuke's memory.
He walked up to the familiar mansion gates, paused for a moment, and then pushed them open.
A breath of home instantly rushed over him—warm, bright, and carrying the alluring aroma of food.
"I'm back," he said in a low voice, his tone somewhat rigid, still unaccustomed to this exceedingly ordinary greeting.
"Oh, Sasuke's back!" his mother, Mikoto, poked her head out from the kitchen with a smile free of any shadow, holding a soup ladle in her hand. "Wash your hands and get ready to eat, we have the grilled fish you like today."
His father, Fugaku, was sitting by the low table in the living room reading a book, and he raised his head at the sound.
That face, which always bore lines of sternness and worry, was relaxed at this moment, and even revealed a smile that could be called gentle as it met Sasuke's gaze.
"Good to be back, didn't make trouble at school, did you?"
What shook Sasuke's heart the most was Itachi Uchiha. His older brother sat across from father, toying with a shuriken in his hand, and immediately turned his head when he heard the voice.
There was no unfathomable look in his eyes, no detachment of leaving after a hurried glance; Itachi's eyes held a warm welcome.
"Sasuke," he called out, his voice carrying the long-familiar gentleness from deep within his memories. "What are you daydreaming for? Go wash your hands quickly."
All of this was too real, yet too illusory.
Sasuke mechanically walked toward the bathroom, the cold water flowing over his fingers,