This was his life. The life of being a rogue ninja, terrible brother, and someone who had committed genocide; a life full of lies, deceit, and the ability to maintain sanity after it all. Itachi had fully well known he chose this life for himself; yet it was still hard to grasp the sheer concept of things. It had all happened so quickly. From Shisui’s suicide to him being blamed for it, even he hadn’t expected an outcome as such. But of course he knew he had to accept it, survive through it, and deal with it; deal with the fact that he’d one day pass away known as a traitor, know that people out there will celebrate his death rather than mourn it. It may not be much, and of course in no way good, but it eased the worries knowing he wouldn’t be the only one. The rest of the Akatsuki organization had well become known for being a terrorist group, attacking jinchuriki hosts for their own selfish gains. Itachi hated it, but he did what he did in order to mask the truth. Walking through the place of their hideout, he was quick to recognize a voice. Instinctively, he raised his guard, nearly activating his sharingan. He eased when he saw the man; however, never dropping his guard. “Deidara,” He said with a neutral tone.