Lapse
The complex was burning.
Ashes seemed to hail from the sky, settling into her hair as she stood impassively. Her lips were parted and she was standing just a bit too close to the house—close enough that a spark could catch on her mouth and sting, like the kiss of a man with fever.
For so long she had trusted herself not to waver in the face of temptation, but before she'd known it the blaze had begun and all she could do was step back and enjoy.
She was a twisted woman, she knew, but the orange-red inferno that devoured everything was gorgeous in its vast power and hunger.
She thought of Itachi when he was younger, favoring training over mealtime, and of Sasuke…sweet Sasuke.
They were gone now. Itachi had taken his brother just as she had instructed, and they were waiting for her at the academy. He'd asked if she would be okay, and she had only lied, uttering a farce against the greatest of all knaves and monsters.
They are her little monsters, both of them. She loves them in the way they worry, and searches them for their flaws, their insecurities. She is almost voyeuristic in her need for their faults, and the type of person she is disgusts yet enthralls her.
Her arms spread wide open and she steps into the fire, claiming it as another one of her little monsters.
It's almost funny how everything she touches is so devastating in its striking beauty.
First she had corrupted Fugaku, and then Itachi, and now she is disturbing the fire.
At least, she thinks, feeling the heat lapping against her clothing…at least there is still hope for Sasuke.
Her sweet Sasuke.
The fire captures her in the warmest hug she's been given, and Mikoto is content to fall for his sake.
Fin.