Gracie Abrams is eking out a solitary existence, fighting day-in, day-out against the drain of working customer service and nursing two newborn kittens in her off time. Out on her own ever since her sister moved in with her boyfriend, the burden of...
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"Okay," I said, gripping the steering wheel between clenched fists. "Okay."
Fabvl played quietly in my speakers, the comforting lyrics so engraved on my soul that I could decipher the part of the song from even the merest of beats.
"Dragonfire," a heartfelt song dedicated to Meliodas of the Seven Deadly Sins.
"Are...are you going to move soon, or?"
My hands tightened reflexively against the wheel's dark leather. I glanced out of the corner of my eye to see bright, grayish-white hair smushed beneath the knitted rim of a cap, the look harkening Kakashi to a younger man interning at a dockyard or something.
The illusion spread. Very grizzled, very dignified, performing very difficult labor. With his youthful face, one could almost see an upright moral character painted within the slim space between his hat and mask.
I shook my head, returning to facing forward at the downward-sloping track of the driveway. With my silver Kia facing the street exit, it should have been easy as all pie to take the plunge and start driving.
"It's not that easy," I said, a faint tremble weaving between my fingers. "I can't believe I'm going to drive like this."
The entire back end of the car had been hacked at by Rengoku's fiery blade. For those who believed swords couldn't stand up to modern technology, I'd love to invite them to an exhibit starring my poor baby. Not only were the windows in the back and rear completely blown out, but the trunk had been cut halfway off the frame. Now it hung, bobbing up and down with every minor movement or stray flick of wind.
All morning, during the dawn that held more shadows than light and all the way to the awakening sky, I had been on my hands and knees, picking up debris, alternating between standing and sweeping when my back needed a break. Kakashi tried to help, but I had warded him away, back into the safety of my apartment.
It was a good thing I had because as soon as it was clear no more harm would befall the area, my neighbors came out in droves to see what the heck had happened. Luckily, their curtains had been closed up tight, so I could feign being the first person to the scene and not an unwilling participant to the whole affair. Turns out, my car wasn't the only baby smashed during the Hashira's rage.
Technically, the Kia was still driveable. It had four tires, an engine, everything. It started when I put the key in and turned it. There was only a minute scent of burning metal, but I assumed that was actually a remnant from Rengoku himself rather than the car.
Hopefully.
"Well, it needs to be fixed, doesn't it?" Kakashi shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. I still hadn't gotten used to the picture of Kakashi of the Sharingan wearing a seatbelt and a baggy sweatshirt in my car's passenger seat.
