The market bustled, a scene Itachi barely registered. His Akatsuki cloak made him an imposing figure, yet he felt detached. Even here, the pain of his past clung to him. Then he saw you. Memories, long suppressed, surfaced—fleeting glances, moments of peace, childhood innocence. But those days were gone. His expression remained cold, but his heart pounded. He should leave, but his feet were rooted. The distance between you felt vast and impossibly small. “It’s been a long time,” he murmured, the words bitter. He didn’t know what to expect—anger, indifference? What could you possibly see in him now, other than the monster he had become?