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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I charged into the spree, stepping cleanly on Kakashi's hand that currently helped anchor him to the ground while his other pummeled at Kirishima's back and side. I twisted my shoe, wishing I wore my combat boots. The puppet didn't feel pain, but I got his attention.
This was where I hesitated as I lifted my leg to kick that beautiful, frozen face, but before my pause could get us all killed, Kirishima unspooled. I saw a fist studded out with his hardening quirk, and a fast swing knocked into Kakashi's chin, toppling him backward. The puppet didn't know how to land like a cat, and so Sam and I were able to grab the redhead.
Deja vu reminded me of when we had faced Pride, how the three of us had cowered under a streetlamp while Kakashi had put himself in front of us. And when we'd been devoured by the homunculus's shadows, we had depended mostly on Kirishima. Disorganized, terrified, stunned.
We were right back there.
The three of us linked elbows, creating some kind of triangle so that all our backs were covered. I wondered if it made me a failure of an adult if I considered these two kids my...friends.
I wouldn't want anyone else at my shoulders when facing certain death. We had passed a bridge together somewhere on this disaster train. Maybe it was the bridge Kakashi had called "comrades."
Whatever it was, it was a small, tiny comfort as puppet Kakashi and Hisoka righted themselves.
I couldn't look at Hisoka's face for fear that I would just drop to my knees and beg for my life. Already, I could feel Sam's trembling, and I had to be honest. I was struggling with staying upright. When I'd taken that tumble and shaken it off immediately, I had maybe ignored one or two or seven or eight concerning twinges of pain. Odd pains that I wasn't used to. All I could hope was that this body of mine was still able to run at a moment's notice.
It needn't matter, though. What Hisoka wanted, Hisoka got.
I was torn from where Sam and I linked elbows. It was only at that moment that I realized her pajamas were a soft pink plaid. The girl loved plaid so much, she had some for every time of the day. And now it was soaked. If she stayed out in this torrent for much longer, she'd be sick. Already, the soft material was plastered to her frame, the color morphing into hot pink.
Then we were separated, and I had no choice but to look into Hisoka's face.
He had strong brows that rose in expressive arches no matter what he was saying, moving constantly, like they had a mind of their own. Disorienting now that they were furrowed, disorienting now that his classic hairstyle was ruined. All that red hair spooled forward, covering his forehead and dripping onto his long lashes. The stark white paleness of his skin made him look like a nightmare.
But it was the eyes that removed the feeling from my bones.
