The gates of Konohagakure slowly closed behind him, temporarily shutting out the smoke and slaughter of the outside world.
The familiar bustle of the streets, the warm sunlight, the carefree laughter of children-all of it formed a scene of almost unreal peace, in stark contrast to the blood-soaked battlefield Shinji had just left.
He took a deep breath. The air carried the scents of cooking smoke, food, and earth. This was the smell of home, and it finally let the nerves he had kept taut for months relax a little.
He did not report to headquarters first, nor did he pay any attention to the villagers and ninja who recognized him along the way and watched him with curiosity or awe. Instead, he headed straight for the Uchiha Clan Compound.
His steps grew faster and faster, until he was almost running.
The closer he came to home, the more sharply he felt the longing for his mother and the guilt he had forcibly suppressed on the battlefield.
When news of his father's death first arrived, grief and rage had consumed him. All he could think about was getting stronger, rushing to the battlefield, and avenging his father. He had not even managed to give his mother a proper goodbye.
Now that he was back, he desperately wanted to see that his mother was safe and well, to make up for that regret.
Yet when he stood before their familiar house, a residence that had once been considered respectable even within the clan, his steps faltered involuntarily.
An indescribable sense of desolation washed over him.
The courtyard walls looked grayer and more weathered than when he had left. A little moss had even crept into the corners, left untended.
The courtyard gate stood ajar. Its hinges seemed to have rusted, letting