Chapter Text
For two days, Sasuke doesn’t leave the room holding the scrolls on all his family’s secrets. The ceiling fan spins lazily above him with rickety shutters, stirring up dust into circulation, and he finds nothing useful. No information on the mysteries of accidental time travel. Nothing on what happens when a Mangekyo Sharingan interacts with a Mangekyo Sharingan, and any problems that can come out of it. Not even anything useful on the Uchiha clan’s history.
By midnight the second day, he’s forced to acknowledge he’s stuck in the past. Madara tried to send him into Kumui. Sasuke doubts he knew this was going to happen, either.
He’s seven, according to the calendar in his room. He arrived on a Thursday, making it Saturday now. Outside, the sky’s clear, the stars bright, and somewhere far, far away from Konoha, Itachi’s already with the Akatsuki, making promises and deals, expecting his little brother to kill him one day. A loyal Konoha-nin until the end, and Sasuke wonders if Itachi really understood at the age of thirteen what the lasting effects of genjutsu torture could do to a person. If he really wanted to protect him, he wouldn’t have sent him on some path to revenge. Sasuke never would have fallen into Orochimaru’s hands, or ended up in the past.
Most importantly, he never would have left his team.
But now he’s in the past with no way back to his time, breathing Konoha air for the first time in nearly three years, lying on the floor of one of his compound’s buildings. The village is beautiful, and Sasuke forgot about that. Actually, maybe forgetting is the wrong word for it. Ever since the massacre the first time around, he’s had nightmares, and his time in Otogakure only made it worse. Within the past year, he pictured Konoha burning to ash every time he shut his eyes. Orochimaru liked to talk about what he’d do it. The Hokage’s monument, smashed. Main buildings burned, Academy turned to dust, residential neighborhoods reduced to wooden infrastructure and window glass. The Haruno household he’d find personally, and he never gave Sasuke details. Left it up to the imagination.
Whenever he shut his eyes, he saw fire and smoke, and imagined pink hair turned red. It never gave him any sort of satisfaction.
Now here’s Konoha in all its relatively peaceful glory, buildings so brightly painted they’re visible even at night. Once, Sasuke called this place his home. He loved it with everything he had. Then Itachi stole it from him. They both walked away. Sasuke’s come back, however unwillingly. Redemption is a far cry from anything he deserves, but he knows the Akatsuki plans to destroy this place as effectively as Orochimaru did, and he can change that. He owes Konoha that much, at least.
Itachi will run off Orochimaru from ever laying his hands on him, so maybe Sasuke should just kill himself here, ruin any chance of the man getting the Sharingan. Or, no, that won’t solve the problem of the Akatsuki. Without him, Team Seven might not pass Kakashi’s bell test, and without the proper training, there’s an increase in the likelihood of the Akatsuki getting their hands on Naruto. At this age, Sasuke can’t really hope to do anything about the Konoha Council either—who’s going to believe a traumatized seven-year-old who had the reputation of clinging to his brother’s every word that someone forced Itachi’s hand? No, he’s going to have to gather proof for that one, and that’ll take time.
It’s starting to seem like he’s going to be stuck going through the motions of being a child if he wants to make any changes. Well, if that’s true, he can start training up his chakra reserves and stamina now so he can using his Mangekyo Sharingan again by the chuunin exams. Five years is more than enough time. All the moves are still there, his body just isn’t equipped, but he can fix that. He has to, if he wants to stop the Akatsuki and Orochimaru. If he’s going to wipe Konoha’s government of corruption.
Monday he’ll wake up at seven and go to the Academy. He’ll take his seat in the back row, and watch his classmates be children, and then return to his empty compound to complete his homework and work on his extra training. If he’s going to relive his childhood, he might as well do it correctly this time around.
He has to, or one day pink hair soaked red and a kidnapped Naruto will be a reality he’ll be forced to face, and he can’t stand the thought of that.
It’s after a month of painfully slow monotony that he hears the sobbing from behind the bushes. And even after three years and puberty’s vocal change, he can still recognize the sound of Haruno Sakura crying.
For more reasons than one, he’s been purposely avoiding even looking at her—and Naruto, for that matter. Seeing them as children when he knows them as teenagers, as adults, is just weird, and for Sakura in particular. She’d been in love with him. He thinks he might have loved her a little too, in the only way he knew how to. When she asked him to stay, he almost did it. He should’ve. He wouldn’t be here if he’d just taken her hand that night instead of leaving her on that bench.
But, taking that into account, seeing her as a child is just…uncomfortable, considering he’d been attracted to her enough as an adult that he was actually jealous when he found out he’d been replaced on the team. Still, he can’t just walk away. Not now that he knows it’s her. This is before her friendship with Ino, if he’s placing the timeline correctly, which means she’s getting teased again. When he was seven the first time, it never even occurred to him to care, but now, he’s really starting to wonder what was even the point. Jealousy? Maybe. Her hair means half the boys in their year have a crush on her.
She’s behind a tree, a little off the path, crouched down with her hands over her eyes and her hair covering her face. “Hey,” he says, and he still isn’t used to how squeaky his voice is. “What’s wrong?”
For a moment, the shaking stills. Then she looks up, staring at him through pink bangs and parted fingers. “Who’re you?” she asks, her voice cracking, and her eyes are the same color as the leaves by her head. Until he met her, he never liked the color pink.
“Uchiha Sasuke,” he says, dropping his pack and coming down to her level. Her eyes widen with recognition, and oh, of course, everyone knows who he by this point. “You’re Haruno Sakura?”
It was two years before he learned her name, and that was only because they were paired together for a project, but they’re classmates. Him knowing shouldn’t be all that out of place. “Y-yeah,” she says, and slowly lowers her hands. “How’d you know?”
“I’ve heard Iruka-sensei call on you.”
This should be true enough; Iruka always made sure to call on everyone at least once, much to the annoyance of at least half the class. Sakura sniffs, and answers, “Oh, that’s good, I thought you might ‘cause—nevermind.” When he doesn’t answer right away, she hesitates, and then says, “Everyone’s always making me fun of me because of my forehead.”
Oh, he does remember something about that. He also never understood it, because she looks fine. “They’d stop if you didn’t let it bother you,” he tells her, and realizes he sounds a lot like a stupid motivational poster. “Look—here.”
When they spar at the Academy, they have to tie cloth to their pants or shirts, and the objective is for their opponent to get his or her hands on it. Sakura probably has something more decorative than his plain black one, but he doesn’t have anything else. “One of my cousins always put her hair back in a headband,” he lies, holding it out to her. “Try putting yours back like that. Words can only hurt you if you let them.”
She reaches out, and takes the cloth from him, before twisting it back the same way she’ll later wear her forehead protector. “But now it shows,” she says, and though she’s frowning, at least she isn’t crying.
Shrugging, he says, “Well, it’s better than hiding,” and stands. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sakura-chan.”
As he goes to walk to way, she calls after him, “Thank you, Sasuke-kun!” and he thinks that wasn’t as weird as it could have been.
Though Sasuke’s reluctant to call them friends because of their technical age gap, by the end of the month, he and Sakura become something loosely resembling that. It isn’t as terrible as he expected it would be, because she likes learning, so her definition of “hanging out” quickly becomes “get as much information from Sasuke-kun as I can in order to build a mental encyclopedia.” In return, he doesn’t have to make his own food all the time, because her mom really likes cooking, and invites him over a lot.
A few years from now, they’re going to need each other, and they’re going to need to be good, which means they’re going to need Naruto. Dealing with him at eight is going to be…unpleasant, but Sasuke can handle it. He’ll figure something out. Then he’ll feel even more like he’s babysitting than he already does, but whatever. Whenever he starts doubting himself, he thinks of Itachi, and purposely doesn’t think about Orochimaru, and that’s all the motivation he needs to sit through another day of class.
Opportunity presents itself on a Thursday after school, when Sasuke’s stuck going back because Iruka-sensei wants to talk to him, and finds Naruto getting yelled out for a prank. “I’ll be with you in a minute, Sasuke,” Iruka says when he catches sight of him in the doorway. “Just, wait here while I get your test. Naruto, don’t move. You’re here until four.”
There’s an awkward moment of silence in the absence of an adult, and Sasuke remembers this happening before. Last time he ended up waiting in a hallway because he and Naruto got into an argument, so before the other boy can ask about how he’s managed to convince everyone he’s so great, Sasuke asks, “I’m guessing the bathroom disaster was you?”
Naruto, whose mouth was already open in preparation of going off on him, abruptly stops. “How do you know about that?”
By tomorrow, it’s going to be all over the school, and everyone’s going to think it’s hilarious but pretend otherwise. Like with Sakura getting teased, Sasuke never really got the town’s collective hatred of someone stuck in a situation beyond his control. It’s not like it’s Naruto’s fault, and convincing their kids to hate one of their classmates is just bad parenting.
“What, am I not supposed?” Sasuke answers, and takes a seat in a desk two down from his future teammate’s. “Good idea, by the way. Badly executed.”
“Exe-what?”
Oh, yeah. He’s dealing with a child with a self-taught vocabulary. “How you did it,” he says. “Shinobi are supposed to be subtle. Why use bright orange rubber bands?”
With a frown, Naruto says, “’Cause orange is my favorite color. Why d’you care?”
Shrugging, Sasuke says, “I don’t.”
“But you’re the one who brought it up!” Naruto’s frown turns into a scowl. “Why bring it up if you don’t care?”
“Because you used bright orange rubber bands on silver faucets, idiot,” Sasuke says, rolling his eyes, and thinks he’s been spending too much time with Sakura, because he’s playing an seven-year-old too well. “How are you ever supposed to become a good shinobi when you can’t even hide a prank?”
Before Naruto can answer, Iruka re-enters, Sasuke’s test results in hand, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he takes in the scene in front of him. Hm. Must’ve been expecting a disaster. By the time Sasuke showed up in the past, his and Naruto’s first fight had already happened.
When Iruka calls him over to the desk, Sasuke goes up without a word, and sits through the same Top of Your Class speech he received the first time around. He leaves right after, not taking so much as a glance in Naruto’s direction, and knows he’s gotten the other boy’s interest already.
Naruto gets incorporated into Sasuke and Sakura’s group of two slowly, partially just because the other two keep skirting around each other, but eventually they settle. It doesn’t take long for Naruto to ask, “So how did you get your freaky eye thing?”
Unlike when Sasuke was younger (older?), his Sharingan’s tied very closely to his emotions, and as neither of them have parents, it’s not all that unusual for Naruto to accidentally fall asleep at his house. He’s seen it in the aftermath of one of Sasuke’s nightmares—and later, during a spar, because he asked. Once Sasuke realized the two of them were paired with Kakashi for reasons that had nothing to do with skill, he figured giving into Naruto’s insistence to train him wasn’t a terrible idea. Then Sakura wanted to join in, and this half babysitting, half friendship thing they have going on suddenly includes teaching.
Apparently Sasuke would’ve made a good gennin instructor in another life, because he isn’t half bad.
“During the night that…you know,” he says, because even Naruto will understand what he means. With the actual distance he has between now and the massacre, Sasuke can talk about it with something close to ease, but it wouldn’t be normal for his childhood self to have the same capability. “It activates for the first time during a moment of high adrenaline. I was stressed.”
And then Naruto, with his complete lack of tact, says, “Because your brother killed everyone?”
As Sasuke watches Sakura hit the other boy on the back of the head with a shout of, “You idiot!” something else occurs to him. Naruto just gave him a perfect opening to getting at the Council, because now that Sasuke really thinks about it, he never actually told anyone about his brother telling him to pursue revenge until Kakashi, did he?
Maybe tactless kids aren’t such a bad thing after all. “No,” he says, voice sharp. “Or, yeah. But he wouldn’t have done it if someone didn’t tell him to.”
For a second, the other two just stare at him. “What do you mean?” Sakura asks finally. “Are you sure?”
“Itachi didn’t even like killing,” he answers, crossing his arms, “so he wouldn’t do it if someone didn’t order him. I just need to find out who.”
“We’ll help you!” Naruto says, too loudly, and much too enthusiastically. “Right, Sakura?”
Nodding, she says, “I don’t know how, but we will.”
“And then you’ll help me become Hokage, right?”
“Actually land a hit on me first, loser.”
The day dissolves into an ordinary hazy spring afternoon as Naruto lunges, and Sasuke kicks him in the stomach, knocking him into the stream they’re near. There are worse ways to relive a childhood, he decides as Sakura takes her place as judge, shouting out pointers. After all, he could’ve just replicated what he did the first time, and there’s no point in playing the part of a lonely kid twice.
One thing Sasuke forgot is that Kakashi’s bell test wasn’t the first encounter with teamwork he had to go through. There’s an exercise at eleven, where they get to choose their own groups, except last time he hadn’t had a group, and purposely skipped the day so he didn’t have to deal with the bullshit of the one he was given. It’s preparation for their future three-men cell, and this time he actually has a team. As it turns out, they’re the only ones with the normal two-thirds formation.
A week ahead of time, they’re given their opponents: Shikamaru, Chouji, and Kiba. “I’ll handle Shikamaru,” Sasuke says immediately when they all meet at his place after school, a piece of planning paper out in front of them. “They’ll fall apart without him.”
Even at this age, Shikamaru is probably one of the best strategists in their class. “Can’t he do that weird thing with the shadows?” Naruto says, scrunching up his nose. “How’re you going to deal with that?”
“Letting myself get trapped, which will give the two of you time to at least start on Chouji and Kiba,” Sasuke answers. “He might be able to bind my movements, but he can’t bind my eyes. I’ll have him unconscious in thirty seconds.”
“Is that allowed?” Sakura asks, and Sasuke nods, because he doesn’t see why not. Hinata’s allowed to use her kekkei genkei, after all. “Okay. I’ll distract Chouji. He said he doesn’t like to hit girls,” she adds, and flips her hair over her shoulder.
With a very uncharacteristic frown, Naruto says, “Do you think Kiba’s gonna use Akamaru?”
Technically, Kiba’s not even allowed to bring his dog to school, but that doesn’t stop him from stuffing Akamaru into his jacket and feeding him treats in class. “I don’t know,” he says, and that’s something he really hates admitting. “You’re better at him in taijutsu if he isn’t.” Naruto might still suck at chakra control, but training with Sasuke for the past four years means he’s improved his other skills a lot. “Even with Akamaru, all you really need to do is distract him. The match will stop once someone’s out cold.”
“I’ll jump, come at him from the air,” Naruto says, and takes the pen from Sasuke, scribbling it down in his messy handwriting. “Akamaru can’t go up that high, right?”
Eventually he’ll be able to, but right now he’s still a puppy. Before Sasuke can answer, Sakura says, “What if Shikamaru’s binding thing does block Sharingan?”
Though he knows for a fact that it won’t, he can’t just say that. “Then I have to wait until the jutsu gives out,” he says with a shrug. “Just keep the other two away from me. Knock out one of them on your own if you can.”
For the next half hour, they write up different plans on the off chance the Sharingan doesn’t work, ranging from Naruto’s insane suggestions to Sakura’s already developed practicality. By now, Sasuke’s used to being a kid again, and the satisfaction he feels at knowing his team’s going to win their first fight is downright childish.
He finds he’s okay with that.
There were a couple of reactions Sasuke was expecting to Iruka to have to seeing the Sharingan, which allowed them to win the fight in under three minutes, but, “What were you thinking?” wasn’t one of them.
Ten minutes later, and he’s in front of Kazuki-sensei, the head of the Academy, who’s looking down at Sasuke like he doesn’t know what to do with him. “That was very irresponsible,” Kazuki-sensei says, and Sasuke hasn’t been this genuinely surprised in a while. “You could have seriously hurt your classmate.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” he says. “I knew what I was doing.”
From Kazuki-sensei’s raised eyebrow, Sasuke’s guessing this isn’t believable, and counts as his first screw up. He's been doing so well. “I’ve been with this Academy for a long time, Sasuke,” he says. “You aren’t the first Uchiha I’ve met who’s developed the Sharingan while in school. I’ve seen how hard it is to learn how to control.”
It took me less than a month, Sasuke thinks, maybe a bit unfairly, but whatever. Getting talked down to is annoying. “I’ve had it for four years,” he says. “I’ve practiced.”
The older man’s face suddenly pales, which means he must be connecting the dates in his head. “And you haven’t informed anyone?”
“There was no reason to before,” he answers, even though if this happened the first time around he would’ve made sure the Hokage knew before the hospital release papers went through. “Hinata’s allowed to use her Byakugan. Why can’t I use the Sharingan?”
“Hyuga Hinata’s Byakugan isn’t developed enough to be dangerous.” Yeah, by the time she’s sixteen, it still won’t be. “You, on the other hand, knocked someone out with a look. We might be training you to be gennin in a year, but the fact remains that we don’t want any of you seriously injured before this point.”
This is so unfair it’s ridiculous. When Itachi developed his Sharingan, he graduated. Before the age requirement was put in place, that was a common occurrence for Uchiha Academy students, though most didn’t develop it until after leaving anyway. Why did he have to get the talk about dangerous it is?
Oh.
Oh.
Somehow, the realization is makes it even more pointless. “Just because I don’t have anyone to teach me doesn’t mean I can’t teach myself.”
“Regardless of how you managed to learn how to use it,” Kazuki-sensei said, apparently unimpressed that an eleven-year-old has a fully matured Sharingan, “that was still an inappropriate move for a school setting. You’re getting a warning this time, but if you do this again, you’ll have to stay after class. Do you understand?”
How is it Itachi got himself a graduation, and all Sasuke gets is a threat of detention? Teaching himself wasn’t all that hard. “Yes, Kazuki-sensei,” he says, hoping his irritation isn’t too blatant. “I won’t use the Sharingan in class again.”
When he’s dismissed, he leaves without a word. Sakura’s gone by the time he returns, picked up by her mom, but Naruto is there waiting, a more dutiful friend than Sasuke ever appreciated before. “Was he a jerk about it?” Naruto asks, and when Sasuke says that yes, Kazuki was, his friend continues, “You know, I’ve always wanted to prank the guy.”
Sasuke tells himself he won’t reach that low, but then he decides there’s no reason he shouldn’t, and agrees.
The next morning, Kazuki-sensei wakes to every inch of his office covered in posted notes, and no way to prove they did it. When Naruto doesn’t confess, no one knows what to think, and the resulting confusion makes everything so much better.
Though he passes every other portion of the gennin exam, Naruto still fails at ninjutsu, which means he fails completely. “Should we go after him?” Sakura asks, watching him walk away after insisting he would find a way to pass by tomorrow anyway. “I don’t want to just leave him like that.”
“No, just let him go,” Sasuke answers, because he knows that by tomorrow, Naruto really will be there. “Do you really think he wants to be around after we made it?”
Her shoulders drop. “Oh, you’re right.”
Glancing down at her, he says, “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”
The happiness of her (their) own graduation is lessened by Naruto failing, and Sakura walks so close their arms touch.
Naruto makes it, and three hours later they’re sitting in front of Hatake Kakashi, jounin sensei, who was just as late as last time. “I thought we’d start with introductions,” he says once they’re all seated. “From what I hear, the three of you are friends already, but I’m going to need to some catching up. So, name, likes, dislikes, any hobbies, dreams for the future?”
“What about you?” Sakura says. “Shouldn’t you go first?”
As Kakashi gives his same vague, nondescript answer, Sasuke realizes for the first time how different the introductions are going to be. “Now you, the loud one,” Kakashi says, nodding in Naruto’s directions. “You’re first.”
“I’m Uzumaki Naruto, and I like ramen!” he says instantly, and Sakura doesn’t bother disguising it when she rolls her eyes. “I especially like it when Mebuki-san makes me ramen. I don’t like…”
He trails off, and Sasuke realizes that it’s because they’re friends. There’s no stupid fucking love triangle to make Naruto hate him. “You hate losing,” Sasuke says, and his teammate nods.
“Yeah, I hate losing. Hobbies? I guess hanging out with these guys.” Then, smiling again, he finishes, “And my dream is to one day be Hokage, and make everyone acknowledge me.”
Despite Naruto having a social life, people are still assholes, and Sasuke doesn’t know how he missed all the glares and muttering. He may or may not have used a low level genjutsu on a grocer a couple years back for calling Naruto a demon, but no one needs to know about that.
All Kakashi does is lift his one visible eyebrow, and it disappears into his hair. “You, girl,” he says, already shifting his attention. “You’re next.”
“Haruno Sakura,” she says, “and I like spending time with these idiots. I don’t like people who judge others because of their appearance. I guess my hobby is trivia games. My dream is to prove to everyone that just because I don’t have some family specific jutsu, I can’t still be one of the best—and to protect my friends.”
The end catches by Sasuke surprise, because when has he ever showed a sign that he needs protecting? Before he has a chance to do anything, Kakashi says, “Your turn.”
Well, it’s time to cement his reason for every looking around where he doesn’t belong. “I’m Uchiha Sasuke,” he says. “I like…them. I hate snakes.” When they were ten, Naruto found out, tried to prank him with a fake one, and the resulting fight left them not talking to each other until Sakura forced him. Using the Sharingan might have been overkill. “My dream—or it’s more of a goal—is to get answers.”
For a moment, Kakashi looks at him, silent. Then, “Answers?”
“We’re shinobi, Kakashi-sensei,” Sasuke says. “I thought we weren’t supposed to take anything at face value.”
Though he knows he’ll be questioned more later, that’s enough for now. “Meet at the training grounds tomorrow at eight sharp,” he says. “Don’t eat breakfast, and don’t be late.”
By now, the three of them should be smart enough to for the other two to at least listen to him when he says they need to use teamwork. Maybe with their combined efforts, and his Sharingan, they’ll even be able to get the bells.
“It’s a trick,” Sasuke says after they all dive into the bushes. “Gennin are split into three-men cells. He can’t fail just one of us.”
“How do you know?” Naruto says. “Why would he lie?”
“Sasuke-kun has a point,” Sakura says, glancing at him. “Think about the team building exercise at the Academy. That had to be for a reason. Maybe the lie’s to deter up from using teamwork?”
Repressing a smile at the fact she figured it out so quickly, Sasuke says, “She’s right. Naruto, use your clones and come at him from above. Sakura, use substitution and attack from all sides. I’ll come at him from the front.”
Developing a friendship years earlier lead to a surprising difference: last night Naruto actually told them how he managed to pass, without sparing the details. Sasuke thinks Sakura is more freaked out than she’s pretending, but the indifferent way Sasuke accepted it must’ve done something, because here she is, acting like nothing’s changed, and agreeing with the plan. It also means he has an advantage in knowing about the clones.
With one decisive group nod, they’re off, and Kakashi’s clearly expecting some sort of teamwork from three long-term friends. But the clones are still surprising, the fact that that the kunai one of throws is actually Sakura even more so, and when Sasuke finally appears in front of him, Kakashi attacks, throwing a shuriken that’s burned by the Uchiha Kanton jutsu before it’s even a threat.
When the smoke clears, the Sharingan’s activated, and in some oversight, apparently Kazuki never felt the need to tell anyone about it.
Sasuke’s spent the past four years building back up his chakra reserves and skill, and he’s not to the level he was at fifteen, but he’s definitely to what he was when he took the chuunin exam, just with stronger eyes.
Unfortunately, chuunin level isn’t good enough, because Kakashi’s fast; Sasuke catches it when he makes the clone, but he’s too slow to do anything about it. Next thing he knows, he’s on the water, and it’s only quick reflexes and chakra control that stop him from falling in. He sees the seals for genjutsu right as Kakashi starts, prepared for Sakura who’s coming from below from behind, and manages to call out, “Sakura, question five on the final!” just in time.
“Kai!”
If Kakashi wasn’t expecting that, either, he does a good job at not showing it. Instead he throws a kunai in Naruto’s direction, who’s hidden in one of the trees, and Sasuke quickly throws one of his own to intercept it. When he goes for a Kanton again, Kakashi dodges, but it’s enough time for Sakura, and several of Naruto’s clones, to actually touch the bells. With Sasuke’s Sharingan catching every move combined with his teammates’ persistence, facing off Kakashi’s speed and intelligence, they’re at something close to a standstill. Realizing his plan is working makes Sasuke feel happier than he has in years.
The fight lasts until noon, or at least that’s what Sasuke’s told, because he passes out from chakra exhaustion around eleven forty-five. Apparently his chakra reserves aren’t as built up as he thought, and keeping the Sharingan activated for that long, as well as performing so many jutsu, was overkill.
Kakashi’s bells are still around his waist, which is frustrating to a degree Sasuke doesn’t want to admit. “I’ve never passed a gennin team before,” his sensei says, pulling him up. “You all need a lot of work, but the first rule to any group is teamwork. Without teamwork, you’re bound to fail. Welcome to Team Seven.”
Naruto cheers, and Sasuke falls back to the ground by the force of Sakura tackling him. And it surprises him, really, the sudden feeling like he’s finally come home.