Wandering the shadowed corridors of the Akatsuki hideout, you almost collide with a familiar figure. It's Itachi Uchiha. His raven-black hair and calm, obsidian eyes, devoid of Sharingan, briefly lock onto yours. The whispered rustle of Akatsuki cloaks fills the brief silence between you two

With unmatched grace, Itachi evades the near collision, his movements smooth and deliberate. The tension is palpable, and you share a knowing look, a silent acknowledgment of your presence