Fool Me Once, Kill Me Twice


Disclaimer: Naruto does not belong to me.


"The water feels like ice, even though it's the heat of the gypsy summer." Shisui thinks, as the hand around his neck flexes and slender fingers scratch at his throat. The positioning is awkward and his limbs feel heavy as little pockets of air escape his lungs. He wants to swallow them back, but instead watches them rush upwards through the water to the surface.

Itachi's voice is muted through the water and the ringing in Shisui's ears, but if he squints he can make out his little cousin's furious features through the haze of bubbles. His eyes are wide and dark with rage and something that must be madness, for Shisui can find no other suitable adjective. Itachi's inky black hair is matted with water and sweat that seeps into his eyes and obscures the pinwheels of his Sharingan.

Shisui notes that it drips into the pond forming tiny ripples, insignificant against the rush of the larger ones.

His eyes begin to slip shut, and he finds is strangely ironic that he can still see the wide scratch marks across Itachi's forearms and wrists, a testament to Shisui's struggles, and the dull blue bruise forming on his cheekbone through the tiny bubbles clinging to his lashes.

He perceives the exact moment that Itachi regains lucidity, as it is the same moment Shisui sees darkness encroaching on the edges of his vision. Those same hands are releasing his throat, circling his shoulders and wrenching him out of the water.


There are slim palms and fingers on his back, against his ribs and then his neck as he expels river-water from his burning lungs.

Itachi's hands are warm, as he pulls him to his chest, murmuring words that Shisui can't yet quite make out.

Itachi seems almost more unnerved than Shisui feels, gasping apologies into his ear, as what might be tears or perhaps just more river-water trickle into Shisui's hair. He doesn't realise it is blood until hours later.

Itachi's lips are on his jaw and throat and lips, until he rests his forehead against Shisui's. "I can feel it sometimes, the burn behind the Sharingan. It's a self-destructive bloodline. I apologise." The words are whispered, like a confession but the word bloodline sounds like a curse. Itachi's head is bowed near Shisui's shoulder, the elegant column of his neck exposed.

"You're sorry you were angry, or you're sorry you tried to kill me?" Shisui asks and his voice is still hoarse. Itachi just shuts his eyes.

"I would spare you the pain if I could." His cousin says, and kisses him full on the mouth with wet, warm lips.

The blazing August sun burns his cheeks and lungs, but Shisui doesn't understand the entirety of what exactly Itachi meant until months later.


He doesn't inform anyone about the incident; they are shinobi and if his cousin had truly wished to drown him, Shisui imagines it would have been a much more controlled procedure, none of the unsuppressed rage in Itachi's eyes.


When Shisui dies, he sinks into the cursed River of Southern Joy, blind and unrestrained, water mixing with blood, pooling in his empty eye sockets. The moon is high, and the breeze carries the currents further downstream as the dull light burns and seeps into his bones. He can sense the subtle shifts of Itachi's chakra and knows, he could surge upwards and take a breath, air and water filling his lungs and let Itachi force him down again. He doesn't.

Air. Earth. Sun. Water. Sibling against sibling. Parent against child. Cousin against cousin. Not even the famed Kotoamatsukami could have prevented this tragedy.


Author's Note: So, my try at Shisui, the result of a fairly persistent idea.