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The air smelt like death.
He stood there. A walking, breathing, physical form of a grim reaper. Itachi felt like that every hour, minute and second. He felt as though his existence had been nothing but to sow the countless of sins buried beneath the Earth's core. A secret sealed away in a box, locked up and caged, but never forgotten.
At first it was a small burden. Itching and crawling beneath his skin, but eventually it ate him up in one bite until his lungs couldn't breathe, until his soul had left this world. To others, he was their most treasured prize, but to him, he was nothing, not even worth a grain of rice. Itachi had been living in constant fear.
"It hurts, doesn't it?", a voice spoke to the young Uchiha.
His cousin, Shisui, gave him a smile. An achingly pity smile. Itachi fumbled with his kunai and touched the edge of the blade with the tip of his finger. It glistened beneath the moonlight's silver water, the reflection of two bloody eyes glared at him. He dug his fingers onto the blade, the edge burning his skin until a single drop of crimson splattered onto the ground.
"But it doesn't hurt enough."
"What do you mean?"
"I feel so numb, I feel like I should be punished, to grovel myself in hell."
The young Uchiha glanced at the moon as he reminisced the many sleepless nights he shared with her. Where the two of them did nothing but exchange a few words during the godly late hour of the night, awaiting for the sun to soar its flames into the morning clouds. A humourless chuckle escaped from his lips as his eyes fell down upon his reflection on the blade, dull looking eyes glaring back towards him.
"Yet, my selfish, delusional body and mind keeps clinging onto it—to be able to feel something, anything. I beg for it everyday."
Shisui studied the kunai being suffocated against the hands of Itachi, "It's because of her right?"
"No I—"
"It's called being human. You want to feel things and she makes you feel alive, something you wanted—no, something you needed."
Shisui's achingly pity smile grew wider as he pulled his beloved cousin into a hug. There was something about his hug. It felt so heavy, so dry, like quicksand swallowing Itachi up and he struggled to breathe. Shisui mumbled an ongoing series of "I'm sorry" in his ears, apologising to his younger cousin's scars that had been tattooed onto his soul permanently. For once in his life, Itachi felt like crying, and so he did. His glassy eyes whimpered and grew swollen from the flooded tears like a child getting scolded by their parents.
