Itachi is one of Kenji's generals?! Raise your hand if you saw that one coming. ✋

His name is a clue. Itachi means "weasel". In Japanese mythology, weasels are an ill omen, signifying bad luck and death.

Furthermore, if you look up the definition, Google-sensei will tell you that (besides being a small, slender, carnivorous mammal related to, but generally smaller than, the stoat) a weasel is a deceitful or treacherous person. Fitting for him, no?

If nothing else, I love the name because of one Itachi Uchiha.

P.S. The only person he promised not to raise his sword against was Aoi.
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{MIHO'S POV}
"Indeed I am!" Itachi spreads his arms wide, as if expecting a greeting hug. His sword and stance are deceptively relaxed.

I raise my sword decisively.

Itachi tsks at me like a disapproving parent at a misbehaving child. "Now now, little princess. You're dead on your feet, whilst I just woke up from a splendid nap. The outcome is inevitable. It's already quite an accomplishment to defeat those lesser generals. Quit while you're ahead, okay? You're more useful to us alive, as a hostage that is. The emperor is willing to treat you as an honored guest, depending on your cooperation! Or we have open positions amongst the generals now! You could be second only to me in the military that unites the continent!"

I shake my head vehemently. "Nothing... about that offer appeals... to me in the... slightest."

Itachi smiles, as dark and unfriendly as a dungeon. "I suppose I have no choice. Do you know what the emperor has planned for you, Miho Wistaria? He wants to chain you to his throne as a decoration."

My ears begin to buzz. I hear Aoi-kun's outraged shout and people yelling desperately behind me, trying to stop Aoi-kun from charging recklessly.

"And you, Aoi Fujimiya, don't think Kenji-heika has forgotten about you!" Itachi laughs coldly. "Your head will be the crown jewel of his collection. He plans to have it stuffed and mounted on the throne room wall. Rather tasteful, no? At least you and Miho-sama will always be together!"

I charge Itachi recklessly.

He easily parries my strikes. "Come on! Is this all the the fearsome Pink Angel of Death has to offer?"

Another new nickname. I'm getting awfully sick of being labeled.

We exchange blows, and the difference in stamina is painfully obvious. I'm running on empty, whereas Itachi is at full power.

I get the feeling he's holding back, trying to avoid leaving scars in places that will be visible when Kenji plays dress up doll with me later.

I hate it. I hate how my worth is always being judged by my appearance, even now. I hate everything my hair has come to represent.

I clench my teeth. When Itachi swings at my arm, I don't even bother to dodge. His sword slices my shoulder, but he pulls back. "Woah, there!"

I take the initiative, striking while Itachi's surprised, but my blade doesn't go deep enough. My bloody knuckles are making my sword hilt slick, and I wouldn't be shocked if some of my hand bones were broken. It hurts merely to hold my rapier.

Itachi kicks me away. I fly through the air, landing on my right ankle wrong. I scream.

Acid pulses through my injured ankle to the rest of my body. I've taken too much damage. I fall to one knee, assessing my ankle. It's already swelling and turning purple. Damn it.

I feel a tug. Itachi yanks me into a standing position by knotting my hair around his fist. He pets my hair, greedily fondling it. I feel dirty now.

"It wouldn't do for you to die here, little princess." Itachi croons in my ear. "The emperor has many plans for you. He will be the only one in the world to possess such dazzling pink hair!"

"I pity... your mom." I manage.

Itachi punches me. "Ah. Look what you've made me do. We have no use for broken goods. Oh well," he punches me again. "Bruises heal."

I spit on him and struggle, but it's no use. He has my hair in a vice grip. I can't get away.

"How miserable you look, Miho Wistaria! Tethered by your own hair, your ankle sprained, if not broken. There is no more escape for you."

{THIRD PERSON POV}
Tethered.

Itachi spoke the word, not knowing how accurate it truly was.

Over the years, Miho's body and mind had matured into that of a beautiful seventeen year old young lady. But deep inside of Miho, there was a piece of her heart that was still a child, not wanting to be hated nor understanding why she was.

It was the piece of Miho that had been sealed off along with her emotions.

That child, that fragment, remained undisturbed for years, curled into a ball and drowning in fear, sorrow, and bitterness. Trapped in a porcelain prison, tied in place by strawberry pink shackles, unable to move or grow. A true doll. The Doll Princess.

For years, Miho had tried to heal the surface of the wound when it ran so much deeper. Although the bleeding appeared to stop and the injury looked fine, she was still hemorrhaging within.

Miho clutched onto that pink tether, afraid of the torrent of emotion that she'd unleash if it was cut. It'd never truly been about her hair. She loved the hair that had brought her to Aoi-kun.

But now she had to make a choice.

Miho reached deep within herself and poked the child on the shoulder. You're not a doll, she urged herself, all you have to do is look up.

The child, so deeply entrenched in self-pity and self-loathing, obliged slowly.

Miho looked up. And for the first time, she saw.

Asahi. Takeshi and Torako. All the soldiers under her command. They all watched her with bated breath. They cared for her and worried about her. They were her comrades and her friends.

And Aoi-kun. She'd never forget Aoi-kun.

He was her partner, her healing salve in times of pain, her prince in shiny armor, and so much more.

Aoi-kun was her shield whom Miho had hidden behind for so long now. She didn't want to crouch behind him anymore. Miho wanted to stand next to him and support him equally. She wanted to give back to Aoi-kun what he had given to her unconditionally for years now: hope for the future.

The ghosts which haunted and terrorized Miho for years were suddenly just that. Apparitions. They were pathetic, laughable, nonexistent.

Miho made her choice.

She pulled against Itachi and he naturally pulled back, till her long strawberry pink hair was taut. Her scalp hurt. Her ankle burned.

I can do this, Miho thought. I'm not worthless.

This time, she actually believed herself.

Miho opened mouth, but not to speak to Itachi. "Shut... the hell up... and go away!"

With a swipe of her rapier, the first gift Aoi-kun had ever given her, Miho cut herself free of her past.

Weightless. That was what she felt as the physical and mental burden fluttered away. She felt light and airy, and ready to conquer the world.

Itachi, who'd put his whole weight behind their game of hair tug-o-war, stumbled back. Only his intense battlefield training kept him from losing his balance entirely and landing on his butt.

Not that it mattered. Fueled by adrenaline, Miho was already next to him, poised to strike.

{MIHO'S POV}
"Kenji wants... my hair as a... decoration? Tell him... he can have it!" I yell.

Itachi won't be telling Kenji much of anything, because his head has been separated from his body.