Chapter one – The man behind the monster
Disclaimer : I do not own Naruto
"How can I be substantial if I do not cast a shadow? I must have a dark side also If I am to be whole"
― C.G. Jung
"He stood cloaked in the shadows of the small room, his eyes focused on the sobbing woman. Her mascara was dripping down her face, and those ugly black streaks stained her face He watched as her mouth slipped open as she prayed to whatever God she still believed could help her. His eyes followed the trail of crimson blood that trickled down her forehead and the smell enticed him. Not even the finest wine in the world could have that kind of affect on him. He harshly grabbed her by the shoulders and his fingers dug into her soft skin. She screamed, she prayed, she shouted, thrashed about but he didn't care. His eager tongue lapped up the blood, and he felt when her body when frigid. He whispered something against her temple and he took a big whiff of that unique scent of her warm, throbbing skin. Even now she was tempting him. She knew as well as he did. It was time" he read and leaned back on the chair. He listened as the chair creaked in a protest of his weight. It was a squeaky, low sound that resonated in the silence of his office. He ran a hand through his mess of blonde spikes that was tied in a low ponytail. The ends of his hair were tickling against the nape of his neck and it was starting to itch. However he kept staring at the laptop screen and the Word document that was currently open. He was writing the second book of his series that was praised for its delicious gruesomeness (not his words, it was a review that Konoha Times did). Monster was about a young detective who was in the peak of his career and life. He had the most solved cases in his precinct, and he was even considered for a promotion. However, when a young woman around the age of twenty years was found, floating in the shallow waters of a lake, the detective knew that it was the work of the serial killer, The Butcher. The killer had murdered at least ten women, each with a specific MO and signature over the span of ten years yet no one was even remotely close to catching the person. The first book had finished off where the detective loses everything in his life. His job, his wife and even himself after the killer turned his attention onto him. However, at the end of the first book and the beginning of the second book which he was working on, the young man had gotten a sample of DNA from one of the crime scenes. He was slowly gaining ground on the killer. The intrigue as the hunter becomes the hunted would provide the excitement his readers craved. He was going to slowly demonstrate how one man with such a strong sense of justice was turning into a monster himself. After all, one has to think like a monster to catch one. A soft knock brought him out of his thoughts and his head craned to the door. His daughter peered inside and he smiled.
"I thought you could use the caffeine" she said, as she walked in, wearing a pair of pink pajamas. Her blonde hair, like always, was pinned in a bun. In her hands was his favorite white mug with red words plastered at the front, 'World's Greatest Dad'. It was his very first Father's Day gift from her. She slowly entered his room and he could see how much she hated to be in his office. He knew that she read his book and from her concerned eyes, she did not quite approve of his darker thoughts.
"I swear, Haru. You're the world's greatest daughter" he cooed and she just shook her head as he took the mug into his head. He took a long sniff of the steaming black coffee and grinned at her. "Thank you" he said, and he flickered on his desk lamp. Whenever he was writing, he always liked the darkness. She shifted as her eyes glanced around the gloomy room. "Why are you still up? It's already midnight" he said, glancing at his wrist watch. The leather band was beaten up and faded, yet he refused to throw it away.
"I have a History test tomorrow and I was studying" she said, and jumped at a sudden tapping noise on the window.
"I've been meaning to get that branch trimmed" he said, moving to the window, and drew the baby blue curtains. Just like he said, a branch tapped against the glass as a result of the howling wind outside. "It looks like it's going to rain" he murmured to himself as his blue eyes studied the bleak blanket of grey clouds that started to form in the sky.
"Dad, I think that you should get some sleep" she said, and he turned to her. "You've been up for two days straight" she added. He waved off her concern and went back to his desk. His office, which was the smallest room in the house, only boasted of his mahogany desk, the dreary black carpet, his bookshelf ram packed with books from all different languages and the blue curtains. He had stripped all pictures from the room, and every thing that could remind him of HER. He sipped his coffee as the memories threatened to resurface.
"You know me, honey. Whenever an idea pops into my head, the writer in me goes on a rampage" he said, and shot her a side grin.
"My teacher asked me something today" Haru said and Naruto arched an eyebrow. "She read one of your previous works, and she said she loved The Robin's Nest. She wants to know if maybe, one day you'll go back to your previous writing style" she added, and he just chuckled.
"Maybe" he said, knowing full well that his daughter was the one asking that question. "What did she specifically like about The Robin's Nest?" he added.
"She loved how the boy fell in love with the girl. It wasn't like what the movies portrayed love as. Their love was what love was meant to be. Honest, effortless and simple" she said and he smiled. "I can only hope that my first love is like that" she added and he pouted.
"You're too young for love. You have to wait until you're thirty to fall in love!" Naruto said and she just softly smiled at him. She kissed his cheek and bid him good night. "Do you hear me, Haru? Thirty years old!" he shouted after her but she just chuckled before closing the door. As he sat back down, he stared at the ceiling as a faint drizzle fell outside. People often commented on how strange it was that a jovial cheerful man like Namikaze Naruto could create something as horrible as the Monster. Even his daughter had been disturbed when the book first came out. However, there was a part of Naruto that he hid even from his daughter. The part that was trying to take him over, especially since his wife was killed three years ago by a drunken punk who used his father's influence to escape imprisonment. His book had started out as an exercise, recommended by his psychiatrist, Iruka. After his wife's death and the release of her killer, he had fell into a deep depression that not even his daughter could get him out of. On recommendation, Iruka had insisted that he write down his thoughts in a journal. At first he didn't know what to write, since even his love for writing had been fizzed down to near nothing after his wife's death. Soon enough, the insanity that trapped him, became too much. He had to write and when he did, even he was scared at some of the things that came from the depths of his imagination. He had killed his wife's killer a number of hundred times, each time more painful than the last. When he had given the journal to Iruka, with the pages filled with such unsettling words discolored with dried tears that fell from the quiet rage that had bubbled in his veins at the thought of his wife's killer, Iruka's eyes had widened. The tanned man had stared at him like he was a foreign entity that had just landed on Earth. That was to say, he was prescribed some strong pills afterwards. However, Naruto couldn't stop the darkness that kept edging his mind and neither could the pills. He had to write again and he did. Thus, the Monster was borne and from then, he had somewhat rose against the depression. When his publisher first read it, the woman had immediately slapped him on the back and said to him "You did it again, Ares-sensei". However when his book was published, his parents, especially his Mayor of a father was instantly on the phone, shouting off his ear about how inappropriate it was, for the son of an ex cop to write such a book. Naruto had hung up on him. His father was never in support of his career choice because the man always wanted him to follow in his footsteps. He wanted a cop for a son not a writer, and the older blonde always made sure to voice his thoughts about the subject. Naruto didn't care what people thought, as long as it did its job. It allowed him to heal albeit in a disconcerting way.
