A Hole in One's Village [Kakashi Hatake]

Chapter 16: In a Familiar Place

---------------Unknown POV---------------

Light was flickering down the hallway, splashing a multitude of faint colors against the dull, off-white wall. It was accompanied by a riot of disjointed sound, silly voices and effects, muffled so that I could not fully understand and follow what was being said but still loud enough that it could not be ignored. 

Even a couple of years ago, I would have found such a ruckus too annoying to be borne. And yet, drying off another dish and stacking it in the cupboard, I could not help the soft smile that had crept across my face. 

The calendar tacked onto the kitchen wall caught my eye, however, and the grin fell. Time was ticking. 

Selfish. I had been so selfish to build a life here. To find joy in this bleak hell. This place that I knew, with aching exactness, when I would be pulled from it forever. 

And yet, here I was doing the dishes as the overly silly voices of "SpongeBob" and his erstwhile companion "Patrick" echoed in the shared apartment. 

Wiping down the counters one last time, I exited the kitchen and wandered to hover behind the back of the couch, watching the brightly colored characters dance around the screen, tormenting their sullen, large-nosed neighbor. 

"Why doesn't he just move?" I muttered, and with a yelp, a head popped up from where it had been laying down on the couch, whipping around until it spotted me.

"Sheesh, babe," she grumbled, pressing a hand to her forehead, "I should buy you slippers that squeak. It is literally unreal how quietly you walk. You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days."

I just shrugged, and she continued without prompting. "I still can't get over the fact that you don't know anything about SpongeBob and stuff. Like everyone knows about them. Foreign exchange student," she snickered, "sometimes it feels like you came from another world, not another country."

Ignoring the way my heart hammered in my chest at such an accurate guess, I sighed and pulled my long hair from its pony tail, walking around to the front of the sofa. "Is it really so hard to believe that someone just might not have been exposed to that sort of thing?"

She raised one brow in a mocking smirk, barely containing a snort, "Yes. And to think that when we first met, you tried to convince me that they don't have cartoons in Japan." The laugh burst out full-bodied and gleeful, "You're such a dork."

I cleared my throat, sitting on the end of the couch as she lifted her legs to accommodate for me only to plop her feet my in lap after I sat. 

"Just because you don't like anime," she continued, eyes wandering back to the screen, "that doesn't mean that no one else can like it. What's your problem with Naruto, anyways? I mean, it is kinda cringe sure, but that's part of the appeal, you know? There's nothing wrong with enjoying something silly."

It had been so jarring, the first time I had seen it on the screen. My world, people I knew, events I remembered, my family, depicted as drawings with exaggerated facial expressions and catchy music. That experience had been so deeply uncanny that I had scrambled to turn it off. To never have to look at it again. It had been such a strange and sudden overreaction that I wound up having to pretend to dislike all anime in the aftermath to disguise my seemingly irrational discomfort. 

"People are allowed to dislike what they dislike," I stated in a bland tone, and she grinned, nudging me in the sternum with her toe. 

"I know. I know. Don't worry, I won't try to make you watch it again. So long as you don't try to make me turn off the Sunday morning cartoons, I don't have any complaints."