Of Gods and Monsters

Chapter 2

White

Part 1: Rinse

Mikoto hummed as she sprinkled white pepper into the frothing mass of carrots and starch. A quick flick of her wrist sent sea salt pattering into the concoction, and soon she was delighting in the satisfying scent of boiling broth. A small smile slid across her face as she noted down her guests who would be attending dinner. She'd have to make something special.

Coincidentally, a rustle of cloth signalled the approach of a guest. A small face, bird-like and delicate in nature, appeared by her side, peering curiously into the pot. She threw a quick smile at the youthful face of Uchiha Mitsuki, who timidly lifted up the corners of her mouth in return.

Young, plain and homely, Mikoto noted. Mitsuki was her niece by marriage and blessed with kindly brown eyes and a penchant for homemaking. Homely, dutiful Mitsuki would make a most ideal housewife for the Aburame. It was a match that threw many people by surprise; the quiet, seemingly fathomless young man of the Aburame, second cousin of the Aburame heir proposing sudden marriage to sweet, sheltered Mitsuki, cousin of the Uchiha heir. It was very suspicious, some had murmured, unaware that the two had been courting quietly for several months, and those that murmured had even hissed that perhaps sweet Mitsuki was part of a ploy to snatch the Sharingan from the Uchiha.

Mitsuki's father, young Hideki, had put his foot politely but firmly down. He may have been immature from his older brother by nearly a decade, with the essence of innocent youth still lingering about his face, but Fugaku's younger brother commanded authority when he wanted to, and he had made it quite clear that the personal affairs of his family were not to be interfered with by the fancies of nosy elders. Mikoto had agreed, gently affirming her position on the matter, and with that, all dissent was quietened.

Even after centuries, many in the Uchiha still upheld the belief in holding fast to the old ways, the old paranoia. Mikoto merely shook her head.

She heard the soft sounds of gentle Mitsuki taking out the plates and cutlery, voluntarily helping her host in readying dinner. By right, as the wife of the head of the Uchiha, Mikoto was entitled to a mansion, to servants and maids and all matter of upper-class luxuries; but times had changed, and modesty was an obligatory virtue in Konohagakure. In a ninja village, regardless of wealth, all ninja and civilians were expected to share the same generalized status: neither rich nor poor– the middle class, the non-indulgent– and all were glad to. Besides, she couldn't stand the thought of people doing everything for her. That wasn't how she was raised, and she damn well would not let her sons be any different.

The front door rang, and Mitsuki called from the dining room that she would answer. There was an exclaimed greeting that announced the presence of Yamanaka Ino and Mitsuki's own fiancée. At the mention of the Yamanaka girl, a grin flitted across Mikoto's face.

Yamanaka Ino. She recalled with faint amusement the vivacious, assertive little girl with eyes of afternoon blue and a love for flowers, who used to chase her own little Sasuke and demanded (not blushed) for her son's affection. Oh, she used to laugh about that! She had seen a gorgeous little girl grow up, in hopes that the girl would become a woman, but to her disappointment, she had watched the girl remain a girl; beautiful, but superficial– shallow, restricted only to her own imaginings of romances set in books. Silently, Mikoto had turned her gaze away… until now.

When she had heard that the niece of the Yamanaka heir had suffered a bitter break up with her boyfriend, the heir to the Nara, she had dismissed it, uninterested in frivolous gossip, until she had strolled past Yamanaka Ino one day and was horrified to see the young girl so haggard and destroyed. She may not have admired Yamanaka Ino, but Uchiha Mikoto was not heartless, and she found it a disgusting waste to see one with so much potential so lost without guidance. Mikoto had resolved to step in. She hated seeing potential go to waste.

Uchiha Mitsuki stepped into the kitchen, her posture humble, but her eyes were warm as she looked adoringly at her fiancée who had also stepped inside, his shades still on. A flash of white gold told Mikoto that Ino had stepped into the kitchen too, and with a warm smile on her fair face, Mikoto turned down the flames on the stove and turned around.

Inwardly, the dark-haired matriarch was pleased. Yamanaka Ino had kept to her manners and etiquette when visiting someone's house, no longer sporting her shabby outfit and haggard hair. She looked clean and neat, dressed in a fresh lilac dress, but her face was still closed and sombre, her colour disturbingly washed out.

Aburame Shino bowed his head respectfully. He had a certain stillness to him, inherent in all the Aburame: living, placid trees that were home to their insects. Stiffness and affability tugged at his limbs with every movement and straightened his ramrod back. Mikoto merely smiled magnanimously and urged the couple with bright, gracious words to roam the compound's gardens. As the stoic Aburame left, with his quiet bride's fingers wrapped around his arm, Mikoto turned her warm smile to Yamanaka Ino.

"Good evening, Uchiha-san," Ino greeted courteously, raising eyes of bleached blue to connect cordially with her client's. There was a sense of unwillingness that hazed Ino's closed face; a note of detest that pressed her chapped lips tightly together. Mikoto's lovely face merely continued being serene, a peacefulness that leaned towards dreaminess. She graciously chose to be oblivious to the blonde's discontent.

"Mikoto-san," the dark lady corrected firmly, pleasantness radiating from her being. There was a sense of strained patience beneath that veneer however, for Mikoto was a practical woman who still saw the trivialities of youth and broken infatuation as foolish. Ino noticed, despite her emotional fatigue, but under the haze of dazed exhaustion, she did not care. White gold hair swept over her shoulder and loose strands floated near piercing eyes of bleached blue, weary and muted. Ino merely nodded blearily, attention fragmenting. "When would you like to discuss the arrangements for the wedding?"

"Perhaps over dinner," Mikoto answered, gesturing to her pot. The dying grey light outside cast itself into the kitchen from the open windows, painting everything in a tint of gloom. The sun would be setting soon, and Mikoto knew its dying rays would soon splash the grey sky with red. Ino nodded, and Mikoto took the chance and jumped at the opportunity. "Please, how terrible of me, but could you help me with dinner?"

The question was polite and said in a tone that conveyed an appropriate amount of sheepishness, but Mikoto was never anything but unapologetic in her every action, and her dark eyes still glittered with a strange light as she waited for Ino's answer. "Of course," Ino said, her voice weak and frail, her head bowed. She wandered, like a grey ghost further into Mikoto's kitchen.

Maybe it would be best to keep her away from the knives.

"You don't have to do much. Just keep stirring the pot, will you? I don't want the broth to start becoming mushy."

Ino dragged her feet to the pot, raising one arm mechanically to grasp the wooden ladle. She tried to be polite– even through her fatigue– tried to put some strength into her arms to stir the goddamn broth, but she just… couldn't. She just wanted to go home, to take her sleeping pills and for the whole entire world to just go away.

The scent of herbs and carrots engulfed her together with the hot steam that rose from the pot. It made her face clammy and hot, and the irritation the foggy heat brought to her seemed to nudge her slightly into liveliness. Mikoto watched from where she was readying the food and silently approved. Cooking had always been therapeutic for her, maybe it would help Yamanaka Ino a little too.

The matriarch was about to turn back to her task when movement and the flitting of a shadow caught her eye. Mother's instinct immediately pointed out that her eldest son, Itachi, had returned home. "Son," she paused her task to turn around to face him fully, her lovely heart-shaped face genuinely delighted to see him.

Itachi did not smile, but the edges of his lips tilted up slightly and his eyes twinkled. He had always loved his mother the most, with the exception of his little brother. Mikoto Uchiha had always stood behind him with unwavering support, even in front of his father, and even in front of the elders.

"Good evening, mother." He then jerked his head back questioningly, towards the oblivious Yamanaka Ino who was listless and lost in her own world. He raised a dark eyebrow, his handsome face a dilution of scepticism and amusement.

Mikoto looked at him warningly and pressed two dishes into his hands. "Make yourself useful," she retorted to his dark, barely perceptible smirk. He was about to sweep out of the kitchen when a movement caught his eye.

In a flash, Itachi darted, his figure barely a blur as he caught a fainted Yamanaka Ino in his arms. Mikoto looked down to see the dishes in her outstretched hands. She blinked, slightly shocked before hurriedly setting down the plates and rushing towards her son.

Yamanaka Ino's hair was a dull, dark yellow that flowed over his arms, and her pale face was gaunt and tired. He could sense a stir of chakra pulsing within her, and knew she was alright but merely exhausted. Mikoto laid a hand on Ino's forehead and confirmed what Itachi already knew.

"Bring her to the guest room, Itachi. Call Mitsuki here, and get me the box of nutrition pills."

Itachi nodded and left, his dark brows furrowing.

Mikoto sighed when her eldest left. She had a feeling he did not like Yamanaka Ino very much. He was a little like her, she mused with a smile playing upon her lips: no-nonsense, with very little respect for those involved in so much drama.

But Itachi had never had his heart broken before, nor had he ever fallen in love. She wondered what would happen if that day came.

Part 2: Rook

The blood had turned slimy, dried red goop dripping heavily onto the floor. Pale, white fingers curled into a loose fist, the arm splayed across the bed, stark white and ghastly.

His eyes were glazed and wide open.

She clicked her pen once, the sound a distraction in the quiet atmosphere. Then she clicked it rapidly multiple times in agitation.

Her companion, a man with light, sand-coloured hair, glanced her way with a puzzled expression, a large clipboard in his hands and wielding a pen. Kaito stood with her by the side of the bed, where rapidly drying blood, oozing the smell of rust and metal was puddled on the floor, streaked across the bed in sickening brushstrokes and splattered on the cheek of the bed's occupant. The young man lay sprawled against his bed sheets, his head lolled to the side and eyes disturbingly empty.

"Murder or accident?" Kaito edged towards her subtly, his voice lowered questioningly. Outside, they could hear a guard telling a curious neighbour about an unfortunate 'incident', and that it was 'all under control'.

Ai sighed and rubbed her temples with her forefinger and thumb, copper hair glinting dully under the light. The Konoha sigil blazed proudly on the dead man's shoulder, tattooed in black; the mark of all Konoha ANBU shinobi. She stared at him for a brief moment, thoughts twisting and rapidly formulating in her head.

"Get me his captain," she finally ordered exasperatedly, turning away from the sight. The smell of curdling blood was like lances piercing her nostrils.

It took a mere quarter of an hour for them to turn around to find, much to their chagrin and shock, the towering figure of an ANBU captain right behind them, like some pop-out picture from a book, armed with two twin swords strapped to his back. Honey eyes looked coldly at them from behind an emotionless eagle mask, the standard stark porcelain white.

Ai resisted scolding the ANBU captain, running tanned fingers through her short copper hair as she tried not to show how ruffled and startled she was by his sudden appearance. Goddamn shinobi. They liked to show off.

"You requested my presence," the masked man said in a flat monotone. He did not glance even once at his comrade lying dead and rotting on the bed, but his tall body, heavily muscled and strong, betrayed the agitation that he felt. Ai did not care, shoving away all politeness and etiquette as she proceeded to interrogate the man.

"You are this man's captain, correct?" Honey eyes darted sharply to his subordinate's face before snapping back with a trained coldness to her face. Ai did her best not to flinch, but the icy fury reflected in his eyes sent an electric thrill of terror down her spine. The tables suddenly turned and now she felt wary of the man before her. She felt her hands grow cold as they were drained of warmth. Murderous. This captain was terribly angry at losing his comrade. "That is correct," his voice was still a robotic monotone, but now there was a razor-sharp edge as his anger seeped through.

Ai waved a hand vaguely towards the dead man's body, struggling to put on a cool, professional front against the anxiety she felt when she forced herself to face this shinobi. "Badger recently came back from a two-week S-rank last night, together with a team which you supervised. In the report you sent this morning, you documented that Badger had suffered from severe chakra exhaustion and a gash to his head. You had advised him to go to the hospital to seek treatment."

"That is correct," the shinobi replied, his tone with a hint of frostiness. Next to her, she felt Kaito edge slowly away. She felt a rise of irritation at that, with a hint of panic. What was he doing?

"Could you please explain to me why he is now currently dead from what the medics have told me: blood loss and severe chakra exhaustion?"

The captain shifted suddenly, and Ai stepped instinctively back. He looked angry enough to strike her.

"He was probably too pig-headed to take my advice."

"Right, right," Ai conceded hastily, her voice broke a little with nervousness. She cleared her throat, fingers gripping her clipboard anxiously. "You may go now. Thank you for your time."

The captain turned and darted off, out of the window and onto the rooftops of Konoha. Ai turned quizzically to her colleague, who, to her surprise, was holding a walkie-talkie. She raised questioning green eyes to his and he shrugged shamelessly. "He looked like he was going to be violent."

Both of them looked out of the window where the captain had disappeared, thinking. Finally, Kaito said out loud what was on their minds. "No one dies from chakra exhaustion. You either stop using your chakra, or you die. What the hell happened?"

Ai, with her green eyes still looking thoughtfully out the window, shrugged and leaned her body towards her colleague. Her mind was still on the bizarre fury displayed by the eagle-masked shinobi, and his sharp, honey eyes. "That captain, what was that all about?"

Kaito shrugged, the sunlight lancing through his sand-coloured hair and making it bright. "Beats me."