Itachi left his room as soon as the doors unlocked and set off determinedly down the hall, pillow case and flashlight in hand. He didn't know what the announcement meant, but he had a job to do. He had not met up with his History Club team last night, and he would correct that state of things.

This place. . . it controlled him, it used him, it even mocked him. The old resentment, reawakened from his slightly more impulsive youth, simmered behind his dim and fettered eyes. How degrading, to presume that his abilities could simply be directed as the Institution wished. How bewildering, that he could lose control again and again in this place. And on top of it, he still could not see, but none of that would affect him. It would rationally determine his motives for taking down the Institution, but it would not affect him. He would proceed with the mission.