Matches
Uchiha Itachi placed his hands on the ground in front of him and bowed so low that his forehead brushed the grass. It was a traditional sign for submission, but in this case, it was in mourning. Although he was only four years old, Itachi was certainly old enough to know what death was, even if he wasn't able to understand it.
"Do you know what this means?" his father had asked him before they went to the funeral. His father, a man of few words, broke his silence today as he spoke of Uchiha Obito, Itachi's older cousin. They were words of honor, and Uchiha Fugaku spoke of the grand things Obito would have achieved if he had only lived longer. But it was commonplace in the shinobi world to die young. At 13, Obito would not have been the youngest.
"It means Obito won't be around anymore." Itachi had responded, with minor confidence. All Fugaku did was nod in response.
The funeral had been over for a while and Obito's body had been long buried, but Itachi found it calming to remain by his grave. The sky was cloudy, but it seemed to mock the funeral as rain never came. Eventually, Itachi's mother had placed a hand on his back.
"It's time to go, Itachi." she whispered. Standing up and shaking his legs out a bit, Itachi followed slightly behind his mother. Itachi had always been a taciturn child, but he seemed unusually quiet. Itachi hadn't even known Obito that well. The two were almost ten years apart, and had only hung out during clan events. "Do you remember much about Obito?" Mikoto asked, turning her head slightly to look at her son. His face remained passive, but there was something in his eyes that spoke volumes to Mikoto.
"I remember playing with him." Itachi responded in a muted tone. "He was nice to me." Mikoto walked on in discomfort, for the silence was stifling. There was nothing she could do for her son, as she watched him suffer. The first casualty of war, Mikoto learned, is always innocence.