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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The world was spinning. It had to be.
"Um, Gracie...I can explain," Sam said, her eyes enlarged behind her thick glasses. Those eyes looked entirely too desperate for me to just laugh it off, the way I'd once tried to do with Kakashi, as a crazy-amazing cosplay.
I'd seen too much to try to convince myself of that now.
"Wait, Kiri—Kirishima," I held up my hand, turning to the redheaded teen. "You're okay? You're not rampaging?"
"Huh?" Kirishima pointed his thumb backwards, toward his chest. "Me?"
Sweeping my eyes to peer at him from head to toe, I noticed the infamous Red Riot was wearing unassuming clothes. So. I turned my sight back to encompass both of the teens. He'd been here long enough for Sam to find him different clothes.
"Wait here," I said, my tone sounding commanding, authoritative. As I turned away from them, I paused, internally cocking my head at myself. Just where had that confidence come from?
"Wait, Gracie!" Sam whisper-hissed after me, but I just slid my neck around to look her in the eyes as I repeated.
"Stay there."
I jogged back to the waiting ninja, still standing on my apartment's stoop. Breathlessly, I stopped before him, waving my hands all about. "You're not gonna believe this. Wait. Scratch that. Just, come with me. There's—there's another one..."
Kakashi stepped off the cement step, bracing his gloved hands on my shoulders. "Okay, okay. Just breathe. Another what?"
I pulled him along after me, my hands dragging at his roomy sweatshirt sleeves. Staring at him with wide eyes, I explained, "Another anime character's come to life."
Kakashi stopped, suddenly. Dragging at his sweatshirt sleeves, I met resistance at his movement, like a bungee cord stringing taut. My body bounced back towards him, slightly.
Forcing my feet to gain purchase against the ground before I bumped into him, I turned back to look at his face.
Kakashi stood, an immovable wall, his eyes focused ahead. "What kind of danger level?"
"Danger level?" I thought for a moment, giving a little "aha!" when I remembered our time with Rengoku. "No, it isn't like that. Kirishima's not rampaging. He's—he's just like you. Just regular him."
"Kirishima?" Kakashi's brows rose, his gaze falling from straight ahead to observe me, instead. "What's his deal?"
I began to pull him forward again. It was a bit like moving a mountain, really. Dragging a powerful shinobi who didn't want to move was a challenge. Anyone who attempted it automatically looked like an idiot.
But this opportunity was too important to pass up.
"Enough of that," I scolded breathily, gaining an inch forward. "He's a teenager. Be nice to him."
