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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I wondered how far Kirisihima got away from Sam's apartment, but before I could worry at the hopelessness of finding one redhead in all of the dark city, I saw Grapes and Carl. Lo and behold, they were sitting with a spiky-haired guy. Though his face was turned down, there was no mistake. Kirishima's hair in my world was just as disjointed as in his.
One lone basketball rolled back and forth between the three. How was it that every teeanger had skinned knees? Carl had several burning crimson scabs that looked as if they'd just solidified, while Grapes had more open cuts down the sides of his legs. Dive-marks from playing ball on streets and blacktops.
The three sat beneath a series of hanging vines. Some neighbor had outfitted a stone bench and wicker hearts strung through with fairy lights in the corner of where their yard met the sidewalk, so if one stumbled past this residential area and felt like taking a breather, they could sit in an oasis of ethereal beauty...and stare out at patched-up apartment buildings. Ah, what a surreal experience.
I wasn't confused on how Kirishima ended up with these two. Eijiro Kirishima had a bubbly personality. He was exactly the type to make friends wherever he went. Even if his sole job was to not attract attention to himself.
With teenage boys, it was especially dangerous, because who knew how many of them hadn't gone through an anime phase yet? The more people who knew about Kakashi and Kirishima, the harder it would be to keep a low profile and diligently wait out the witches. I didn't think more people knowing about them would help us get them home any faster. Why make a spectacle for something that was temporary?
Hands shoved in my jacket pockets, I crossed the street, making sure to kick every stray pebble and rock coming my way. As expected, the boys noticed, though Kirishima didn't glance up to look.
"Oh, hey, Gracie," Grapes said, which shocked me enough to stumble forward a step. I didn't think these two would know my name.
I nodded as if this was completely expected. "Bit late, huh?"
"Yeah," Grapes agreed, unbothered. One of his legs dangled beneath the bench, the stray basketball reduced to a soccer ball. A heavy, orange, bumpy soccer ball.
I raised my brows. I'd hardly spoken to these kids before, so I wasn't sure how to act. "Mind if I talk to him for a while?"
"Ah, nah." At last, Grapes heaved himself to his feet with all the weight of a soldier carrying over eighty pounds of supplies. Carl, the string bean, stood up in one smooth motion, popping the basketball into the air. Grapes caught it, tucking it under his ribs. "Night, Gracie."
"Night, Gracie," Carl echoed, and I summoned the adult in me to give them my best normal expression.
"Goodnight, boys."
Grapes and Carl disappeared down the street, moving quietly between cars packed on both sides. The newest round of fall leaves were packed onto the cement, much more slippery than one would think. Grapes skidded several times before his buddy Carl grabbed hold of the back of his shirt. Even walking home, those two made for rich entertainment.
"Can I sit?" I shuffled over, trying not to peer too closely at Kirishima's face.
He had his head tilted down, fiddling with his hands as he leaned into his knees. Sam had outfitted him with sweats and hoodies, too. The all-black attire didn't suit what I knew about Kirishima, but I was here to acknowledge that I didn't know as much as I thought I did.
I had to stop treating him like a character whose life was drawn for everyone to see. If Kakashi was allowed to be more than what was seen on the screen, then Kirishima was owed the same dignity.
That said, my guilt made it awkward to connect with him now. What was I supposed to say? Kirishima doubted he was a real person! What was I supposed to do with that?
"Don't you have work tomorrow?" Kirishima asked. There was still a nasally husk that reminded me of his English voice actor, but the essence of it stemmed from youth, not acting. I couldn't explain what the difference was, but I could tell.
I sat on the open half of the bench. The cement was still a bit cool to the touch. I allowed my head to tip back, staring at the wicker hearts, those fairy lights woven into the network of vines trellised around a metal archway. "Yeah. Why?"
Kirishima's shrug was short. He didn't move from his position, elbow to knees, to perform it. "Didn't expect you to still be up."
Unbidden, a heated flush started at my neck. Was I sweating? I pulled my hair away from my skin, letting the fall air attempt to cool it. "I—I was still up."
When Kirishima made no attempt to move on, I realized it was up to me. Once again, I had to play the adult. With all this pretending, one would assume I'd have become a real adult by this point.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked.
The sky showed the faintest haze of fog cutting in and out in front of the moon. Not real clouds, just wisps. A few stars poked through, but since we were sequestered in the city proper, it was a futile endeavor. Unlike most fall nights, there was no chill wind making you bitter and miserable.
Kirishima sighed. "Not really."
"Okay," I said, adjusting my seating so one leg was pulled up on the bench. I had to be careful of my ankle, but once you hit that flat spot, it really was more comfortable to have my legs crossed sometimes.
My eyes began to fall at half-mast, but I valiantly stayed upright. It wouldn't be good to fall over and make a fool of myself.
At last, Kirishima turned to me. The spikes in his hair looked melted, like the gel in them had finally worn off its effectiveness. He had these cat-like eyes, even in my world. I think it was called "peach blossom" in danmei novels. They naturally gave one the impression that the one wearing them was imploring you to do something. Overall, Kirishima looked exactly like Hable and Sintar.
He was just a cute cat.
"That's it?" he asked, incredulous. So incredulous, his voice broke.
I tamped down on a smile, giving him my most unbothered grin. "Yeah. Unless you want me to bother you until you start talking?"
Kirishima's hands had many nicks and pockmarks scarring them up. No matter how impressive his Hardening quirk was, he often found himself against very strong, sharp, and heavy opponents, whether real-time villains or training courses. His hands detailed a life of hard work, of purpose and dedication. They detailed a perseverance not seen in animation, in manga.
Kirishima was fragile at heart but strong of soul. Even when his mind wanted to retreat, wanted to give up, wanted to berate himself, his body kept him going. He was, in every essence, a perfect hero from My Hero Academia.
"I just get kind of restless," he said to his hands, turning them up, down, clenching them into fists, then interlocking them together.
A little grin tugged at one corner of my mouth. Restless, huh? Couldn't tell.
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