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LET THE GODS WORSHIP ME

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LET THE GODS WORSHIP ME

ALL SHE HAS KNOWN, and ever has to know is The Clan

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ALL SHE HAS KNOWN, and ever has to know is The Clan. She knows how the heat underneath her pale skin is due to her natural affinity with the scorching heat of the sun, how her charcoal eyes are the birth of brothers and sisters and a love untold, only written in aged scrolls, how the collar of her tops and the fan emblazoned on her back screams of the truth that will never go away. She cannot always be one of Konohagakure no Sato's kunoichi. She cannot always be Tatara whose name means too little and too much in a field where blood is shed more times than it is born. She cannot always be those people but she knows, she knows like how she knows the flames will always be her friend, she knows like how she knows who she is and who she will be. Tatara will always be, no matter what happens, a member of the Uchiha Clan. The Clan, always The Clan.

She does not tell anyone how her heart bursts with pride as multicolored eyes glance her way and identify that 'ah, this girl is an Uchiha'. Because the Uchiha Clan is an age when everything is stable and everything is constantly moving to the sparks of flames yet so stagnant with the lazy spinning of the gleaming red eyes. They are an old tradition begging to be remembered and everyone who meets their eyes have the beauty of forgotten warlords descending their vision as the volcano erupts and eats them whole. Because the fans of high collars and dark hues are the Uchiha Clan. They are everything it represents. The fan that gives fire more and more and more and more life ━━ The Uchiha Clan are flames of untamable spirits, descendants of Kagutsuchi, he who is the son of the infamous Izanagi and Izanami, he who burns gods with low wails.

Which is why she never complains. She never complains as the burn marks etch the corners of her mouth or even when her grandfather pushes her further than he is supposed to. It is always for The Clan. Her blood, her ancestors, her future children and grandchildren and her descendants. The Clan, The Clan, always and always and first and foremost, it is always The Clan.

"Gokakyuu no Jutsu(1)." With a single tiger seal, the wizen man releases the grand fireball of The Clan. As the flames tickle the edges of the river, smoke wraps around the water in evidence of the raw heat of the mixture of Yin and Yang Chakra. He turns to face her, numb. "This is the coming-of-age technique of The Clan. Try it."

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