Uchiha Itachi dies...

He's thirteen, and he's so small. Shisui is only three years older, but Itachi seems like a doll under his hands. Shisui's hands can wrap almost completely around Itachi's throat. Shisui's calloused thumbs press deep into Itachi's pale flesh. Pale now, but it had always seemed a sun kissed gold before now. Now, it is lily-white, with bloody red bleeding out from under Shisui's touch. There's swelling, and what would be bruising if Itachi were going to live that long. Shisui feels like he'd breaking a toy. He feels like he's attempting to kill beauty itself.

Itachi's spider hands scramble at Shisui's wrists. They scratch and wrench at the iron gripping his neck, but they cannot break the hold. Nails bite into Shisui's skin, and bend backwards with the force used behind them, but Shisui's grip doesn't waver. Itachi's knees dig into Shisui's torso, shoving and battering with an ever weakening force. Itachi can't get enough room to properly ram Shisui with a knee. The same goes for Itachi's feet, which scramble up and down Shisui's legs, kicking and shoving, leaving stinging bruises as Itachi's body twists and thrashes under Shisui's.

Itachi's face is the worst. It's gone red. His small mouth is open, gasping for air he can't draw into his lungs. His eyes are wide, but not red. No, grey, frantic, begging, and dying. Itachi's eyes are a study of emotion. Shisui knows Itachi is now feeling air hunger. He knows his cousin's chest is a burning whole of pain. He knows this. He almost feels it himself. Itachi makes another choking noise, and his body bucks under Shisui.

Death is coming, and Itachi knows it. His body renews struggles. He chokes again, and his eyes roll back in his head. There's bloody saliva trailing from Itachi's mouth. Disgusting, alluring, fascinating in the most disgusting way possible. Shisui leans heavier on Itachis thin neck, and he hears something grate and give. Hyoid bone-Shisui tell himself. Itachi will drown in blood now, but he's dying of strangulation first. Dying under Shisui's hands, and Shisui feels no remorse.

Shisui feel justified.

Shisui feels violently ill.

Gasp. Choke. Splutter like a landed fish. Body convulses. Muscles contract. Frantic eyes. Flaccid muscle. The stench of the freshly dead.

Shisui counts to ten, and then he peels his hands from Itachi's neck. The ligature marks stand out scarlet against the pale neck. It doesn't look real. It doesn't feel possible. It feels like a nightmare.

But Shisui has never dreamed of hurting Itachi.

And now, Uchiha Itachi is dead.