Serve and Protect : Itachi Uchiha

Chapter 6

A clan is like a hive. Different compartments make up the entire nest; alone each comb is fragile, delicate. Yet, together they are fortified. The hive is overseen by a queen bee. They sit at the top of the hierarchy, that is what a clan head does. They watch and ensure that everything runs smoothly. A clan leader needs to be strong and aware of what their clan needs.

Reina was unsure she was the right person for the job. Both her grandparents were wise, even despite the knowledge that their age had bestowed upon them they always knew what needed to be done. Reina was lost. She was stood at a crossroads and had no inkling what was the right decision. Her mentors, her family, were dead. Cold and long gone from the world of the living.

She was all alone. And she was petrified.

Reina sat at her grandmother's dressing table. She didn't recognise the woman in the mirror. She had often been told she was the spitting image of her mother; although her mother was of a sharper disposition which was obvious from the angles of her face. Reina didn't have her mother's cheekbones; her cheeks still gave the illusion of youthful innocence despite her age.

Her mofuku had been pressed for the occasion, the black fabric sharp and crisp. It was the same kimono she had worn for both her parents and grandfather's funeral; the garment had been resized and resewn as her body had grown. Her mofuku and she had become hardy companions over the years, it was fitting that it should see her through her grandmother's funeral.

Reina took one last look at her reflection. Her hair had been pinned away from her face with one of Tomo's hairpins. It wasn't the finest of kanzashi, but then it was not a time for finery. She had lit the incense and left an offering for the kami, hoping and praying that they guided her grandmother safely to Yomi. She hoped the goddess Izanami was kind, and that the shinigami that guided Tomo to the underworld was prepared for her wit and fire.

Itachi waited patiently, his own hakama freshly pressed and stiff from lack of use. He hadn't attended his own clan's funeral. He didn't want to imagine the amount of bodies the temple had blessed that day; how many tiny coffins had passes through the torii gates. His chest ached at the thought. He was alone. And so was Reina.

The young clan head exited her grandmother's room. When Itachi first heard her announce her ascension he had been flabbergasted. She had remained so composed in his presence as she explained the details of Tomo's passing and her rise as clan head. She was so young and inexperienced. Yet the ferocity in those sunny eyes of hers unnerved him. Despite her sweet demeanour, Itachi knew that Reina would shed blood, her own if need be, in order to protect her clan.

She was capable of eviscerating those who opposed her and that kindled an inkling of terror in his stomach.

“Reina-sama.” Itachi bowed, his newly cut ponytail swaying at his nape. Reina nodded in acknowledgment and stepped past him, her steps silent on the hardwood floor. The pair donned their zori at the edge of the genkan; Reina took one last longing look at the photo of her grandmother at the door before turning swiftly on her heels, Itachi a silent shadow at her back.

A low buzz bled from the entrance of the temple. The main belly of the temple sat at full capacity; rows and rows of black clad bodies sat patiently for the ceremony to begin. As soon as Reina entered the building with Itachi at her back, the room erupted into chatter causing Reina to grit her teeth. Itachi swore he could feel the air around them heat up before dying down suddenly. If Reina was aware, she gave no indication. Her face remained as impassive as his own.

The sharks were circling and she refused to bleed.

Throughout the service Reina could feel eyes on her, each set burned a fresh imprint on her skin. She wanted to scream, to flee. She didn't. She sat in silence, her eyes locked on the casket. Itachi managed to shield Reina from the majority of the onslaught; all's it took was for a mourner to approach the young clan head and Itachi would cast his gaze on them. They soon bowed from their place and refused to take another step closer. He still had it.

Once the prayers had been said and the incense was no more than ash upon the wind, the temple emptied out until all that remained were Itachi and Reina. He watched as Reina stood, her movements graceful despite the obi belt and mofuku restricting her; she stood beside the casket, her palm resting on the lid. He saw her lips move but didn't hear her words, they clearly private. It was their final goodbye.

“Let's go.” Reina murmured, her usually warm tone devoid. Itachi knew she wasn't intentionally cold, she wore the façade of clan head well. Authoritatively indifferent was what she was; on the journey back home people bowed and removed their hats, Reina merely acknowledged their condolences with a nod of her head or dip of her chin. Today she wasn't the young girl Itachi had known in his youth.

Today she was the head of the Hitori.

His head.