Itachi watched Naruto, watched his expressions. It was almost amusing to see how he would be serious one moment and practically bouncing off the walls the next. It made the Uchiha wonder how someone could so frequently change their expression. Was it something learned, or something that just came naturally?

"The Sharingan..." The word was familiar, and Itachi pictured those red eyes again. In his memory, the eyes mutated, the tomoe shifting and changing shape. There was a single instant where everything took on a reddish hue before the flood gates opened and Itachi dropped the food he was holding. His whole world reeled as memory after memory flicked through his mind.

What Itachi needed right now, more than anything, was to sit down. The floor was as good a place as any.