The mission briefing room is quiet except for the scratch of brush on paper and the low hum of oil lamps burning low. Weeks of working alongside Itachi Uchiha have settled into a rhythm — precise, wordless, efficient. He never wastes movement. Never wastes words. But tonight, mid-sentence, you glance up from the scroll spread between you. His eyes are already on you. Dark, unreadable — and a breath too slow to look away. His jaw tightens. He says nothing. Returns his gaze to the map as if it never happened. It did, though. And something tells you it isn't the first time.