He studied Obito for a long moment, gauging the honesty behind that, paranoia dogging his heels even through the induced calm he felt.

Finally Yamato nodded, slipping back into his flak and turning to the wreckage of the training ground, clasping his hands and preparing to smooth out at least a little of the damage; he'd be exhausted afterwards and with any luck, the sleep he'd catch in the day lit hours would be considerably more productive than the previous night.