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...
c/w: things get a bit intense in the next few chapters. please proceed with caution of violence and themes of sexual harassment Written: 6/4/25 Word Count: 1,452
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Kakashi had knocked into Kirishima so fast, the teen couldn't react in time to utilize his quirk. This Kakashi—the zombified machine—hardly knew how to ninja. Like a brawler, he rained blows down, never once reaching for the dozens of hidden kunai and daggers no doubt strapped to his person.
Thank goodness Patty hadn't updated her gamer skills.
"Kaka—" I gasped, voice immediately disappearing beneath the rain. The arm around my middle trembled in faint laughter, and that disgusting nose was back on my skin, behind my ear. What the fuck was he doing? What was that fucking noise?
Was Hisoka sniffing me?
"I see you've met," he hummed. "Are you the reason why he's been leashed like a dog? So I have you to thank for why I don't get to fight the shinobi at his best?" Hisoka pouted. "Boring."
Kirishima finally got his hands up to block his face, curling into a ball. Still no quirk, though. Was he hurt? Stunned?
At last, Sam landed on the scene. I couldn't see his face, but I could feel Kakashi's coldness as he pivoted on his knee and stared up at the young witch. Sam froze, glasses fogged up and covered in droplets. Her face went from "rosy" to "ghastly" in like three seconds, taking one step back.
My heart broke a little at that. Could Kakashi see that Sam was scared of him right now? How would that affect him when he came back to us?
If he came back to us.
What if Kakashi was...gone?
Devoured?
His soul, his beautiful soul...lost?
"Awww, what's this?" Hisoka shoved my head down, strands of wet hair tangling around his rings. He exposed the back of my neck, and I got this horrible feeling. He would be the type to bite my fucking jugular out. "A freckle? How precious," he oozed.
At last, the tears found me. What even was this situation? Being held like a baby being burped by a psychotic murderer as Kirishima and Kakashi grappled on the ground, one a stunned kid, the other a controlled puppet. And Sam, hovering nearby, just as much at a loss as I was.
Fewer moments resonated as strongly as the phrase "a take-stock-of-your-life moment."
These last weeks had felt something akin to this deluge of rain. It was cold, it was wet. Impossible to find comfort. Too itchy, clothing all wrong, sticking to your skin like it was suffocating you. Fingers damp and watery, so much so that there was a layer between everything you touched.
Everything you felt.
I can't make up for all my wallowing. Instead of figuring out the next solution, I had allowed despair to get to me.
