When Uchiha Itachi appeared beneath the academy corridor, no one heard his footsteps in advance.
That afternoon, the pre-fire control class had just ended. The copper trays were returned to their racks, and sheets of thin paper were tucked one by one into the record books. The classroom still held a faint scent of heated paper, like old book pages left in the sun. Kiyo was sprawled over his desk, blowing on his fingertips and complaining that today's hand seals had tied his fingers into knots.
"Your fingers aren't tied in knots," Morita Yu said. "Your brain and hands just failed to reach an agreement."
Kiyo looked up. "You could try being less accurate."
Che was sorting through his workbooks when he heard a teacher stop in the corridor to offer a greeting.
"Itachi-kun."
The classroom abruptly grew quieter.
Not every child knew Uchiha Itachi, but most had heard his name. The Uchiha clan's genius, an early graduate, rumored to be Anbu, Sasuke's older brother. Among children, his name was spoken of brightly, but in adults' mouths, it sometimes dimmed.
Che looked up.
Itachi passed beneath the corridor. He was far younger than the shadow from the later parts of Che's old memories. His face had not yet been entirely worn cold by the weight that would come later, yet his gaze was already so calm that it did not belong to an ordinary teenager. He wore no Anbu uniform, only plain black clothes, and the clan crest on his back was faint beneath the afternoon light.
He nodded to the teacher, the gesture polite and brief.
Sasuke was not in this classroom. Yet Che first thought of the bright look in Sasuke's eyes whenever he spoke of his brother. Then the low voices behind the paper window last night