When Sora finally opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was a pale blue ceiling.
For a few moments, he simply stared upward in silence, unable to remember where he was.
A strange scent lingered in the air — disinfectant mixed with medicinal herbs.
A hospital.
The realization slowly cleared the haze in his mind.
Sora remained still, his body weak and heavy beneath the blankets.
The events before he lost consciousness returned piece by piece like shattered glass.
The forest.
The senbon.
His mother’s scream.
“…I survived,” he whispered hoarsely.
The room around him looked unfamiliar: white walls, medical equipment resting near the bedside, an IV hanging nearby.
At least this wasn’t some underground prison or laboratory.
Someone had rescued him.
Then— His breathing hitched.
What about his mother?
If he survived, then maybe— The door opened before he could finish the thought.
Two people entered the room.
The first was a doctor in a white coat carrying a clipboard.
Calm eyes sat behind thin glasses as he approached the bed professionally.
Behind him stood a tall man with messy silver hair.
A mask covered the lower half of his face, and a forehead protector slanted over one eye.
Sora recognized him instantly.
Kakashi Hatake.
“You’re awake earlier than expected,” the doctor said gently as he checked Sora’s temperature.
“That’s impressive recovery for someone your age.” But Sora barely heard him.
His eyes remained fixed on Kakashi.
The silver hair.The lazy posture.
The calm, unreadable gaze.
There was no mistaking him.
Sora forced himself upright despite the weakness in his body.
“Sir…” His throat felt painfully dry.
“Were you the one who saved me?” Kakashi gave a small nod.
“My team found you in the forest,” he answered quietly.
“You’d been hit with poisoned senbon and lost consciousness.
We brought you back to the village for treatment.” Village.
So he had really reached Konohagakure.
Hope flickered inside him.
“Then my parents—” His voice rose desperately.
“There was a woman with red hair!
Did you find her too?
She was with me!” The room fell silent.
The doctor stopped writing.
Kakashi’s visible eye softened slightly.
For several long seconds, he said nothing.
Then, quietly— “When we arrived…” His voice remained calm, but heavy.
“You were the only survivor.” — The words hit Sora harder than any blade.
Everything inside him seemed to go still.
His hands slowly loosened against the blanket.
The fragile hope in his eyes shattered completely.
Gone.
Both of them.
His father had died buying them time.
And his mother… Sora stared blankly ahead, unable to process the emptiness swallowing his chest.
He had finally been given a family.
A real home.
And now it had been ripped away from him again.
Kakashi watched silently.
Something about the child’s expression felt painfully familiar.
Too familiar.
That hollow look… It reminded him of himself after losing his own teammates years ago.
Except Sora was only a child.
Kakashi quietly exhaled.
Comforting people had never been his strength.
Especially not children.
He lightly signaled for the doctor to follow him outside.
The two left the room without another word, gently closing the door behind them.
— The hospital room grew quiet again.
Sora slowly lay back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling without seeing it.
Questions endlessly circled through his mind.
Why?
Why did he lose everything again?
Why had his family been hunted down?
Who were those people?
What crime had his parents committed besides surviving?
No answers came.
Only grief.
Heavy enough to make breathing hurt.
Time passed unnoticed.
Eventually, darkness settled outside the hospital window.
The steady ticking of the wall clock filled the silence.
Sora still couldn’t sleep.
Then— A soft knock came from the door.
“…Come in,” he said quietly.
The door creaked open.
A young boy stepped inside.
He looked no older than ten or eleven, with neat black hair and calm, composed features far more mature than his age.
Itachi Uchiha.
He approached the bedside slowly.
For a moment, he simply looked at Sora in silence.
Then he spoke gently.
“My name is Itachi Uchiha.” His voice was soft and steady.
“You can call me Itachi.” Sora blinked slowly.
Itachi held up a small paper bag.
“I brought food,” he said.
“You probably haven’t eaten much.” He opened the bag carefully, revealing skewers of dango coated in sweet sauce.
The smell alone made Sora’s stomach ache with hunger.
Only then did he realize how long it had been since he’d properly eaten.
His stomach growled loudly in the quiet room.
For the first time that day, Itachi smiled faintly.
He handed one of the skewers over.
“Go ahead.” Sora hesitated before taking it carefully.
The warm sweetness spread across his tongue, easing the dryness in his throat little by little.
For several minutes, neither of them spoke.
Itachi eventually sat beside the bed and ate one skewer himself.
Watching Sora quietly nibble at the dango reminded him strangely of his younger brother, Sasuke Uchiha.
The thought made his expression soften slightly.
“What’s your name?” he asked after a while.
Sora swallowed his food before answering.
“Uzumaki Sora.” Itachi nodded thoughtfully.
The Uzumaki name wasn’t unfamiliar to him.
Even among Konoha’s older generation, the clan’s destruction was remembered with regret.
Looking at the small child sitting alone in a hospital bed, Itachi suddenly understood more of the situation.
“You should rest,” he said quietly as he stood.
Then, almost unconsciously, he reached out and lightly tapped Sora’s forehead with two fingers.
The same gesture he always used with Sasuke.
The moment he did it, Itachi froze slightly.
He hadn’t meant to.
For a second, he looked almost uncertain.
But Sora only blinked in surprise before continuing to eat his dango normally.
Honestly, he preferred that over having his head patted.
Back at the orphanage in his previous life, the caretakers always used to rub his hair like he was still a toddler.
He never liked it much.
Seeing no resistance, Itachi relaxed slightly.
Then he quietly turned and left the room, gently shutting the door behind him.
Leaving Sora alone once more with the fading sweetness of dango and the silence of the hospital night.