That's Why, That's Why…
That's Why I Chose You
Fragments of a spectrum swirled without root or aim and caught Itachi by the throat.
"…You are…my closest friend…"
The hold on his shoulder relaxed; the looming vertigo momentarily passed.
"As you are to me, Itachi."
His back was to Shisui and yet Itachi could still feel that small, slight smile rippling across the other boy's face.
"But…I sense that there's more you want to say. In truth, you've been acting strange lately. Also, there have been murmurings among the clansmen…"
Itachi noted how his own palms went cold at the word "strange" and how at the same time Shisui's hand finally withdrew. The young ninja was still talking, but the words spiraled away like echoes, blending against background until the syllables coalesced. He saw Shisui before his eyes, floating beneath a shower of silver light, his lips opening and scraping against one another but with nothing coming out, his form oblivious to the wind toying with wisps of his hair. It didn't feel real, but somewhere past the smoke and the ashes, Itachi knew he was experiencing this vision in color and in full, and that unshakable realization made his heart move even faster.
He blinked. The scenery refocused and he could hear Shisui's voice again.
"…if there's something, know that my ears are open and my mouth is closed. You have my trust."
Grey mist, blanketing and diaphanous, drifted over the moon, and Itachi wanted to melt in the shadows that now expanded and surrounded them. Encircling, creeping, the darkness arched and sprang, swiftly preying upon the few specks of white light that remained resting on their faces. And as the seconds died, the moon gradually disappeared altogether, clutching her light and fleeing, much to Itachi's envy.
"Itachi…"
There was a brief and sudden gust of wind rushing unexpectedly from his left side and Itachi inhaled sharply when he realized it wasn't wind at all, but Shisui gliding as a phantom over the ground, ending up in front of him so that the two were now face to face. Shisui, who appeared to be so much taller than recent memory allowed, directed his eyes towards his and waited patiently. There was a tenderness underlying his statuesque gaze, hidden in the way pearl is within clam, and there was strength, fair and complete, exuding from his silence, never diminishing, not even for a moment…and Itachi couldn't help thinking if there would—and if there could—ever be another person like the one who stood before him now.
"It's odd, I suddenly remembered something you told me."
He had spoken rather loudly and Shisui perked up.
"Hm?"
A slight chill whistled by and the faraway tree branches, looking more like spindles in the ever-deepening dark, started to sway off-rhythm.
"'Nakano is free.' Is that why this river holds your heart?"
For some reason, Shisui didn't respond. Nevertheless, a strange excitement took hold of Itachi just then and he felt he couldn't stop. The words tasted sweet and flew like lightning off his tongue.
"Dancing carelessly, its wings for waves, its end unseen and its course unpredictable. It answers to and is bound by nothing. The Nakano is free, free in the truest sense. That's why you admire it so, isn't it? That's why I, too…I wish to call such a freedom my own. Shisui, I…"
An electric shock with the force of a vortex and the fury of a phoenix suddenly rumbled in the center of Itachi's chest, surging and rising, spreading and ripping throughout his pulsating veins. What followed was an empowering burst of adrenaline that erupted inside his body, and he was unsure as to whether he caused it to happen or if it was happening on its own accord. Everything was retracting, balling up and wounding tightly in his mind with an intensity he didn't believe was possible. Then a tremendous hush fell over the world and there was a blackening—a blackening that came not from an absence of divine light but from a sentience hungry, heavy, and relentless—and gone were the river, the trees, and the fields. His hands grew itchy in anticipation, his blood was pumping hot and fast, and Itachi vaguely wondered if Shisui could hear his heart screaming.
"…I intend on obtaining the Mangekyou."
Almost as if with an authority of their own, his hands flashed seals and in a flurry of fingers, elements, and sparks of chakra, Itachi leapt several meters away into the grassy stalks while beckoning water from the Nakano. Waves emerged and in mid-air morphed into several snake-like rivulets—all but one of which were illusions—that then lashed out and coiled around Shisui's body, wrapping his torso tightly and lifting him off the ground. Shisui was helpless, draping in the sky like a hanged man.
"My water mirage technique…when did you…!"
Black eyes shot up to meet with Itachi's red. Why the other boy had not utilized his Sharingan in spite of a ninja's natural instinct, Itachi did not know. But what was more amazing was how Shisui insisted on talking, disregarding the hard water now curling around his throat.
"The purpose of having a clan and establishing strong brotherhood…the whole reason for the existence of the structure of the Uchiha as we know it…was to…was to prevent something like this. The Mangekyou goes...it goes against all of this."
Family. Clan. Name. Honor. But where was Self? It was being swallowed and the very thought made Itachi burn.
"Shisui, the clan is what prevents us from reaching our truth, it blinds us and distracts us from the height of what we can grasp."
The other boy's eyes wandered upwards, lost.
"And they had said…"
"Who? The leaders?"
Struggling, Shisui tilted his head.
"I had believed in you…and…to be truthful…I…no, it no longer matters. But tell me Itachi, what good will this do? When they examine my body, they'll know it's you. When they know this murder was orchestrated by your hand, they'll be upon you. Can even the Mangekyou save you then?"
Itachi smirked.
"How logical and yet how unlike you to attempt to plead for your life in such a way."
"It's not my life I'm thinking of right now."
The reply was stony and Itachi laughed quietly, almost to himself, and his eyes glistened in the dark.
"That's why it has to be you, Shisui."
Itachi watched as Shisui's words fumbled in coughs.
"Any action that needs to be justified through words isn't worth acting upon. And I admit, your desire for the Mangekyou surprises me, for it is a technique that consumes the soul. Every…everything in the body is a source of energy, everything from the surface of the bone to the core of our emotions. To break down the barriers, to direct those channels and extract energy from them, to transform all that is heart and spirit into a death weapon…
"It is…sickening."
It had been the only time Itachi had heard him come so close to scoffing. His eyes heated up.
"Shisui...before they are even certain that it's me, this entire village…and our entire lineage will fall."
With blank expression, Itachi watched as Shisui then lowered his head, mouth contorting into a half-smile, half-sob. He couldn't tell which it was; he didn't want to know but the image kept filling his eyes.
"I see."
The voice was so faint that one had to question whether it was even there at all, but Itachi could still somehow hear him. Then, with muscles tightening, Itachi dug his foot hard into the dirt and concentrated, readying his hands for the final blow.
"You told me once never to fear death."
Shisui turned his face away.
"I don't fear it. And I'm not mourning for my own sake, Uchiha Itachi."
And the rest unraveled, dream-like: the water swelled with energy and the individual hydras merged, collapsing against one another as a huge aquatic sphere arose from the collecting mass. There was little resistance and the sphere enveloped everything from the neck upward. Itachi closed his eyes, weaving and redirecting his chakra as necessary, hand seals deterred not even for an instance. At last, powdery vestiges of a flame flickered at the bottom of Itachi's stomach and roused his senses. When he opened his eyes, it had already finished. His hands loosened and the serpentine waters lowered the body and carried it to the edges of Nakano's banks, nudging until it rolled over, left arm flopping into the river.
The thick fog that had clung to the moon was now peeling off. Walking over to where the corpse was, Itachi breathed heavily as he looked on at the scene: the moon was generously washing over every feature, reflecting off the pallid skin and casting the white and black of the eyes onto the distant stars; pupils dilated, opaque; pieces of hair were plastered and wet against forehead; and limbs, once lithe and silken with movement, were now rendered limp and didn't appear as flesh at all. Voices of wildlife surfaced into his ears, as though they had ceased crooning all this time, coming out only now when it was deemed safe. Itachi licked his lips slowly, the coming of morning crowding his thoughts when just then, something cold whipped against his cheek, something fierce and biting, and he wondered if it was wind or if it was breath or if there was even a difference anymore.
Remember Itachi…the river is limited by the shores, it is guided by the wind. Without it, the waters would spread too thin, the waves would fall to a standstill, and the river will be no more…
He pulled a ragged piece of paper from his pocket and held it, running the words that were written on them through his mind over and over again.
All around, the stars lowered into whispers, heralding the oncoming twilight as the corners of the clouds boasted the barest tint of rose. Shadows yielded and shrank, retreated like retiring puppets with their strings in the atmosphere and what was once a high and full moon now swung closer to the summits of the remote eastern hills. Far away, low and melancholy sounds of an owl's cry rebounded against the sky, dipping and mounting the curve of the winds that speeded alongside the now fading moonlight.
Finally, he dropped the note beside the wet, dead body and watched it flutter like a withering petal in the air. He never heard it touch the ground.
Ending Notes: I wrote Itachi more vulnerable than I think is possible…but then I'm reminded of all those manga images where the guy just seemed so unstable. Not to mention the desperate voice that the "suicide" note carried. So yeah, I was trying to capture both the fragility and ferocity that is Itachi's mind…doubt I succeeded so constructive criticism would very much be appreciated.