Written: 11/17/22
Word Count: 2,669

Car alarms started blaring almost instantaneously after the shattering glass, and Kakashi practically flew off the bed.

He crouched at the window before I could even remember to move, so I lifted myself up to my elbows, staring at the curtain-less glass peering out across the long driveway to the string of condos on the other side.

Another smash accompanied a throaty roar like a person was cosplaying as a werewolf about to transform. I shuddered at the noise.

I sat up cross-legged on Kakashi's bed, the covers still half off the mattress and funneled together like a giant snake.

"Kakashi?" I whisper-hissed, motioning the man to come closer. "You don't have to get involved. In this world, we let the police handle dangerous people."

Kakashi's bare face was illuminated in that orange glow as he peered through the glass. His gaze tracked something near the parking stand, which brought up the uncomfortable realization:

What if it was my car that had been destroyed?

Oh great, what was I supposed to do if that happened? I didn't want to tell my parents someone had smashed up my car. They already thought this complex was too dangerous to live in.

Never mind that nothing like this had ever happened before.

I balanced my weight onto my knees, peering out at the driveway in front of the window. None of the other neighbors had come outside. I didn't even see any lights turned on.

That was the typical response of people minding their own business.

What it told me was that it wasn't some domestic dispute—it wasn't one of my neighbors high on some crazy drugs or some unhappy husband or teenager.

Shivers skittered down my spine, but I forced one socked foot off the bed, then the other. I joined Kakashi at the window, hovering above his crouched form, just to see if I could catch a glimpse of my silver Kia sitting under the open awning.

The window was inverted, so the very outer edge of the ledge's boxy frame got in the way of where I knew my car rested. My favorite spot, right next to the red pole.

"My poor car," I whispered to myself, forgetting for a moment that I wasn't alone.

Kakashi looked up at me, the new angle sending a strange heaviness down my limbs. With that loose white shirt, the ninja's collarbones were open and inviting at this angle. That beauty mark stared up at me, almost accusingly.

Without realizing it, my gaze hovered on that little freckle. Kakashi's expression seemed to freeze, one hand coming up to pat his neck, where the mask had been pushed under his chin. Without his extra layers, it looked like a strange scarf of some kind.

He easily slipped it back up his nose, staring at me now with a wariness shining in his eyes.

"You—you couldn't breathe," I tried explaining, the words ringing false with my awkward voice. It was true, but with the way the situation had turned out, I couldn't be sure that Kakashi didn't see me as some sort of predatory woman now. "You were—you were trying to take it off. I think. So, I—I did."

"Why did you come in here?" Kakashi's voice had returned to that typical boredom that sounded as flippant as a chef smoking a cigarette behind a counter, casually tossing an omelet through the air.

Slowly, I moved away from the man, edging my elbow up on a tower of clear storage bins. My hands gripped together like I was praying, but my fingers wove through one another with such speed, nobody would ever mistake it for praying.

"I heard a noise." Again, the words rang false despite their truth. "I wanted to make sure you were alright. I told you before, remember? I know about your—your night terrors."

Kakashi's face didn't twitch at all. Just a slight narrowing of his eyes that made his thick eyelids stand out the way the anime-Kakashi's lids always looked like they were drowning him. "That was dangerous."

"I'm sorry," I said. My voice couldn't get any quieter.

Kakashi stood with a rush, his size suddenly stifling me, boxed into the narrow space. It was hard for me to look at him, so my eyes just kind of stopped at his chest, gazing at the definition of those pecs, clearly visible through his shirt.

"Gracie." Kakashi's voice sounded like a warning.

My fingers continued weaving through one another. "Um, yeah?"

"Don't do that again," Kakashi said, his voice an actual warning now. "I don't want to hurt you. Don't come in here again."

"O-okay," I replied because what else could I say? If that was what Kakashi himself wanted, then who was I to say anything?

His piece spoken, Kakashi stalked over to the small closet, pulling open its sliding doors to pitch darkness. Quickly and efficiently, he discarded the clothes he was wearing, shirt and pants both.

"Oh, my god," I turned back to the window, covering my eyes with my hands for good measure. "I'm still in here, you know! What are you even doing?"

In the few seconds it took for me to completely lose my composure, Kakashi had changed into the underlayer of his ninja attire—the all-black layer that stuck to his skin like paint and covered almost every visible inch of his skin.

I stopped cold. "What are you doing?"

"Going outside," Kakashi replied, those muscular shoulders taking up nearly the entire doorway on his exit.

While I was stunned for a brief second, he disappeared from sight, leaving me pressed into the corner of boxes.

"W-Wait!" I called, my body finally jumping into motion. "Wait!"

Kakashi was already out the door, the squeaky thing barely opening before it shut again. I followed him to the kitchen window, but it was on the wrong side of the building to see anything. All I could do was watch that form disappear like the briefest of shadows. I really hoped nobody came out of their homes now.

Frozen for a single moment, the silence nearly killed me. Maybe whoever it had been was already gone, and Kakashi was only looking at the extent of the damage? Question mark?

Just when I was convincing myself the danger had passed, a miraculous sight appeared, like a trailing afterimage, right before the window.

Pushing the flimsy blue curtains completely to the side, I stared, agog, as a vision of flames blasted from the direction of the parking garage. The flames were perfectly formed, layered within with white, yellow, and orange—even outlined in a slim trace of red.

No flames like that existed in this world.

Just as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared. In a flash. Like an illusion.

I couldn't help but find the patterns incredibly familiar, but for now, my panicking mind couldn't place them.

A shadow dodged another round of those flames, and another roar pierced the sky. I covered my ears with my hands, watching Kakashi backflip and dodge. The flames disappeared on their own after a few startlingly bright seconds.

"Kakashi!"

A kunai was clenched in his hand, but I could already see the three-comma pattern shining in his left Sharingan eye. The ferocity and strangeness of it rattled my knees. I tipped them against the wall to keep myself standing as Kakashi stared down a roaring beast.

A figure walked into sight, following the path of the driveway. Following Kakashi.

The sheer colors of this guy made my breath completely leave my body.

I slowly shook my head, my hands inching across the wall as I headed toward my door. Like a crab, I scuttled along the wall, my neck craning to keep sight of that ridiculous figure.

That ridiculous figure who couldn't possibly exist in this world.

But then, neither should Kakashi.

"No way," I whispered, flinging open my front door with such intensity, it flew back on its hinges, ricocheting and hitting me. The dull bruise wasn't enough to unhinge my jaw from where it had fallen open, staring out at the scene before me.

Kakashi stood before a man holding a flaming sword. The man's white cloak was outlined with flames reaching up from the ground, matching the intense layering of colors shining from within his flame-like head and giant eyebrows.

Kyojuro Rengoku.

In the flesh and blood.

Kakashi turned his gaze to me. The stunning light pouring from that Sharingan eye was eerier than those creepy ass Halloween masks used in thriller movies. "Gracie! Shut the door!"

I didn't shut the door.

One trembling step followed the other as I stepped off the ledge of my doorway, unable to tear my gaze from the flaming man, who was enraged beyond belief.

Seriously. All his veins were protruding on his temples and neck, and his eyes were crazed, the irises nearly rolled up all the way into his head.

Was this...what whiting out an anime character's eyes looked like in real life?

"Gracie!" Kakashi's voice was deep and commanding as he dodged the next violent sweep of that sword. The Flame Hashira sword, edged in such thick, roiling flames, sent blast after blast of that concentrated air, the illusion of the flames following quickly on its heels.

Kakashi flew up, shooting straight into the sky like he was pulled by some bungee cord.

He vaulted toward me, grabbing my arm and covering my body with his as those flames assaulted the front door of my apartment,

In mere seconds, the thick, metallic door splintered like hapless wood.

Kakashi pinned me to the uncomfortable bed of mulch outlining the perimeter of the building. Furiously, his hands gripped my shoulders. His gaze was wild as he full-on yelled, "What the hell are you doing?"

I shut down. Completely.

I didn't do well with yelling, but it was worse when men did it.

Even Kakashi Hatake wasn't spared from this burden of mine.

All I could do was stare up at him, wide-eyed. The silence stretched on long enough that Kakashi swore, picking me up in a mad dash to escape the next volley of flames.

I hung like a useless lump in Kakashi's arms, their strength working better than any seatbelt. Somehow we ended up on the roof. I peered over the man's shoulder, watching Rengoku's rampage with wide eyes.

It seemed like something had come over him. His head shook erratically like a parasite had burrowed inside his brain. Snarling, he tried to find the source of his discomfort, throwing out random slashes at any source of noise.

Even crazed and out of his mind, Rengoku's Hashira senses were so sharp that as soon as a stray pebble skittered under the terrified claws of a squirrel, he sent another volley of those deadly flames toward the hapless creature.

My eyes widened as clarity overtook me. I gripped Kakashi's shoulders, pulling my head back. I didn't know what expression I was making, but I could feel the tears threatening to fall.

Kakashi's anger turned to confusion. His grip on my legs lowered so that he was accidentally clutching my ass, his boots squelching a little against the roof tiles.

"Down!" I yelled as the Hashira's senses alighted on us.

Without a word, Kakashi threw us over the roof's peak, rolling us over the rough tiles that felt like sandpaper. Eventually, mid-roll, he stopped us with one gloved hand before we fell off the other side of my building.

"Kakashi," I panted, my voice more breath than words. I couldn't really move my lower body because his other hand was still pinned to the side of my ass, his grip nearly bruising. Those legs were back to pinning my body beneath him.

I turned my face away, staring at the ground looming so close to me. The strange feeling of resting on the downward slope of a roof was terrifying.

"What is it?" Kakashi growled, his hair slanted over his eyes from the mad scramble. It didn't stick up as high. Now, pieces of it were charred, falling into his face, giving his visage even more shadows in the middle of the night.

"Something's wrong with him," I said, focusing on my neighbor's sidewalk.

Would I die if I fell from a roof? If I just rolled off it, would the pain suffuse my body evenly or would my head fall first? Was my head heavier than the rest of me, like the foam ball on a badminton cork?

"I think I got that," Kakashi said sarcastically, and I shifted uncomfortably beneath him.

"Gracie," Kakashi said, his voice back to that warning tone.

I tried to focus, despite the sudden burning in my cheeks. "I know him."

My voice didn't come out strong, but that hardly mattered at this point.

Kakashi tilted his head, his voice the barest of whispers. It seemed he had figured out Rengoku's enhanced hearing by himself.

As expected.

"What?"

"I know him," I repeated, wetting my lips, "the way I know you."

Kakashi's brow furrowed. "Which village is he from?"

I shook my head. "No, Kakashi. Rengoku's not from your world."

"Rengoku?" Kakashi repeated. "I've never heard that name before. Is he one of the characters from this Naru—wait. He's not from my world? What does that mean?"

My eyes were wide as the truth threatened to overwhelm me.

How was this happening? How was this possible? Why was it so different from when Kakashi had arrived on my doorstep?

"Kyojuro Rengoku is from an anime called Demon Slayer. He's not from Naruto at all."

The weight of this realization felt like a contract binding us together at the implication.

"He's a Hashira, a swordsman sworn to kill demons and protect the world from their misery."

Tears pooled in my eyes from the image at the end of Rengoku's story. The pain, the fullness of that moment...Tanjiro's tears...

"I can't believe it," I said, one tear breaking free. It followed the creases in the corner of my eye, falling and tangling with the hair right next to my ear. With wet lashes, I closed my eyes for a stilling moment. "I'm sorry. I just—it just hurts right now. Ignore me."

Kakashi's tense body relaxed with a whoosh. His weight suddenly fell on top of me, squishing any part of me he'd been hovering above earlier. Back to being a smashed bug, I guess. "Gracie, hey. Hey, look at me."

I shook my head, knowing my scrunched-up face was beyond horrifying to behold. Pretty criers were mythological. "Just ignore me. We need to figure out what to do. Something's hurting him, Kakashi. We have to help him. Please."

"Gracie," Kakashi said, patiently, "look at me. Open your eyes."

Something about the sudden kindness entering his voice relaxed me.

I opened my eyes, their burning unveiling themselves inches away from Kakashi's face.

"My god," Kakashi shook his head. "You're really something, you know that? Why are you crying?"

"I just..." I sniffled painfully, my mouth bunched into a tight line in an effort to control my face, "I can't stand seeing him like this. He's—he's hurting. Rengoku shouldn't be hurting like this. I can't—handle it."

It was true.

Watching Rengoku's death on the screen several different times was enough for me. Now that he was breathing, now that he was real, watching a character who was so pure of heart, so resilient, in pain...it was unbearable.

Did I do this?

Did I summon Kakashi, and now, Rengoku?

Was this a punishment for being such a useless person...to watch my favorite characters be in pain, unable to control themselves?

But then, why hadn't that happened to Kakashi?

My heart lurched at the thought of the same strange madness overtaking Kakashi, and I dry-sobbed, unable to hold it back.

Without really understanding what I was doing, I slid my hands around Kakashi's neck, clasping them tight as I sobbed into the man's collar. I squeezed him fiercely, fighting the tears wanting to break loose.