That was a change. The Itachi Ibiki had taught had been a quiet, respectful, sober child; this one, while spirited, was showing enough arrogance that Ibiki had to wonder if he truly was taught by another equivalent to himself.

It was true he wouldn't complain. Why bother? This place was a nowhere.

A lesser man might have struck the boy for his insouciant tone, but Ibiki felt no need to. Instead, he stepped back from Itachi and turned his back on him, deliberate and contemptuous. There were certain tricks to the chakra that would play heavily in the atmosphere around him -- they were not quite genjutsu, but rather a natural effect that shinobi and even more sensitive civilians would subconsciously detect and react to. Now he thickened his chakra in the air between them, creating a sort of wall, an insulating distance -- something that would not be detectible to the conscious senses, but would increase the feeling of separation, create the gut-level perception of a gulf between them, coldness and distance.

"My students keep respectful tongues in their heads," he remarked idly, as though to the trees. "A pity I've not encountered any of them here." A pointed message to Itachi -smart off, and be shunned by the man he evidently felt such affection for.