Fantastic Mesovores
And Where To Find Them
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Not everyone can be a mesovore. It is something intrinsic; a unique state of existence only an unlucky few are born into. It cannot be learned. You're either a mesovore, or you simply aren't.
The first of this rare kind of creature I ever observed was my own elder brother. He had been a most fascinating specimen to study back when I'd been naught but an ignorant child. I would only unterstand the tortured existence he led much, much later; years after I left my childhood behind in fact.
My brother was lazy as a child. I remember the barest hints of a messy bed, clothes thrown around in heaps, cans of bird-food and that green dinosaur toy I was so very fond of. Itachi was lazy and unproductive, and would willingly waste away his days napping beneath a cherry-blossom tree if there would be nobody around to bother him.
Mom bothered him a lot. She would fuss at the mess and quickly rearrange the perfect chaotic harmony I had helped Itachi build over the span of half a week. He learned and adapted soon. Before mom came to check his room, he kicked the toys under the bed and ran his hand across the piles of clothes. And they would end up perfectly folded in a minute, ready to be placed in the closet.
I kid you not. His clothes folded themselves.
When mom left, he would snap his fingers and the glorious mess would return.
Dad tried to keep him busy and productive by teaching him things. Tenets and principles of the ninja arts, the secrets to mastering the art of murder.
Dad failed horribly. It took Itachi barely a day to learn what was taught to him. The straw that broke the camel's back was when Itachi performed a perfect Great Fireball technique on his first try.
My big brother was no longer Itachi; he was rather that genius Itachi. The boy who existed only in the whispers and lauded praises of the ignorant masses. They came to revere him, soon enough. He walked on water unwaveringly on his first step. He could pin the wings of a butterfly to a tree with a thin needle, despite it floating a hundred metres away. He could do so with his eyes closed.
Itachi was a mesovore.
No one treated him normally, you see. He'd either be their object of affection and worship, or the target of hatred and jealousy the moment they laid their eyes on him. I vaguely remember one of our distant aunts attempting to seduce him, and her husband attempting to kill him the next day. Both attempts failed. Itachi was invincible.
I still tore the pages out of his important books to make origami though. I had no hesitation at all with causing Itachi inconvenience, nor did I hesitate to love him. When he'd been sick with a terrible cold (and he'd gotten well in a few hours where people take days) I remember giving him three-fourths of a tomato.
When asked why, I looked at him as though he were an idiot.
"You're worth more than just half a tomato, nii-san."
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