Written: 11/14/22
Word Count: 2,904
"I don't get it. Why do these 'intro and ending themes' matter so much? They take up so much time, and they're the same thing again and again."
Tonight's dinner was a type of goulash—about one of the only dishes I knew how to make. Yet, somehow, he'd made it better than when I'm at the top of my game.
Signs of Kakashi becoming used to my tiny apartment were scattered few and far between.
But if you knew where to look, you would notice the difference immediately.
One of the sweatshirts I bought for him folded over the arm of one end of the couch. Two mugs sitting ready before the ancient Keurig instead of one. The men's shampoo and conditioner brand sitting next to the women's in the shower.
"They're not all the same," I explain patiently, Hable and Sintar happily mewling in their box between our plates. "You just haven't gotten to the next one yet. The first opening in Naruto runs for the most number of episodes, while the ones at the very end of Shippuden run for a quarter of the time."
My elbows spread out on the table, my face always pulled toward it once this time of day approached. Though I always got sleepy, the past few days of Kakashi's camaraderie made me push past my body's limits. Yami would be proud.
Somehow, by forcing myself to stay awake for a longer period of time, I slept like a rock. Waking up fully refreshed may or may not have something to do with the spiky-headed man who refused to take off his mask even though he mostly wore the sweatshirts and baggy sweats I'd bought for him, making him look totally off and not like a terrifying Anbu at all.
"Why waste time on something so lame, anyway?"
As usual, Kakashi was the eternal pessimist when it came to the show depicting scenes of his home. He'd yet to make any remarks on whether he believed the story in the show was his future, but with each candid observation pointing out the show's weaknesses, I started to realize the man was trying to find its faults.
I wonder if I would also be quick to judge something thoroughly if I watched an animated version of my life tell a story about my not-so-distant future, showing me a world almost entirely different from the one I knew.
While the Hidden Leaf Village had been depicted alright, per Kakashi's unenthused admittance, the story taking off with Naruto and the kids as the centerpieces really messed with his mind.
I tried to imagine if I was forced to watch a show about Tenna's two tykes as school children, the world wholly different from what I immediately remember. The transition would be tough, to say the least. Now, add in the inter-dimensional travel and my world being portrayed within that world for entertainment purposes.
The experience would be...extremely off-putting.
"They're not a waste," I smile despite myself, spinning softened goulash noodles around in the creamy red sauce pooled on my plate. As always, Kakashi's food made the heart grow ever fonder.
Forget the way to a man's heart—I called dibs on him first.
Kakashi leaned back, somehow able to balance on the stool while also looking down at me through that one-eyed stare. His brows rose high, daring me to continue.
Oh, I dared.
Putting down my fork with a slight clink against my plate, I waved my finger in the air with emphasis.
"Each opening and intro gives you a general idea of the section in the story you're about to witness. Sometimes, it'll tease the big fights and emotional moments to prepare us for what's coming. Other times, it's more based on the tone of the story, setting the mood before the episode begins. Either way, it's not useless. It's actually one of my favorite parts of anime in general."
"The song is catchy," Kakashi admitted, referring to "R.O.C.K.S.," the first opening in Naruto, "but it gets played repeatedly. How can it not get old?"
I nodded. "I usually skip the intro after the first few times of watching it. Unless I really like it, of course, and then I watch it whenever I feel like it. You have to remember, too, Kakashi, that you're binge-watching the show. When it first aired, it came on for little kids once every week. The routine of watching a show once a week versus several episodes all at once would make the song less annoying and just part of the watching experience."
Kakashi cocked his head. "You feel pretty strongly about those openings."
"I do," I said proudly, grinning in a way that I hoped resembled the Cheshire Cat. "I used to pride myself on knowing all the openings and endings of all the anime I watched. The order of them, their name, and their band."
"Wow," Kakashi said, sounding entirely unenthused. "I get the openings building momentum for the show, but then, what the heck is the point of the endings? They're slow and poorer quality animation."
"Endings are often skipped over, even if the openings aren't," I admitted, playfully taking one of Sintar's tiny paws under my finger and lifting it. Her claws were too soft to hurt, even though they were always splayed at her age. Bobbing the furry thing up and down, I considered how best to make my case. "Endings are one of the most underappreciated parts of anime. Sure, they're usually slower. And sure, they don't add the same level of excitement that openings do. However, I feel that their purpose is intended to show more of the emotional struggles facing the characters."
"Emotional struggles?" Kakashi mused. "So in the one I've seen so far, its target was the loneliness inside Naruto?"
Pushing back from the table, I gathered our empty plates, setting them in the sink before gently turning the faucet on. "That's right. Instead of action and intrigue, they can almost be said to show the heart of the characters in the show. But, again, not all of them are slower or are intended to target the emotions of the characters."
"They're not?" Kakashi followed me into the kitchen, standing like a tall sentinel peering over my shoulder. Even with the unassuming hoodie sitting crooked on his wide shoulders, he was still a bit too intimidating.
Just how long would it take me to get used to his hulking form standing near me? It was all I could do to meet the man's eyes when he looked at me.
"Nope," I said, recalling several of the funny and annoying endings in both Naruto and Shippuden.
Jidensha. I shuddered.
I handed Kakashi the first plate, which he dried far more efficiently than I ever could.
Give me wet hands and soap bubbles. I hate that drying shit.
"When will I see one of those?" He asked.
My eyes slant, and I grin at him. "Why do you ask? Are you curious about the show?"
Kakashi's openness flutters shut and disappears under the guise of his unassuming air. He shrugs. "Not at all. It was just a question."
"Uh-huh," I cajole, my voice arching longer than when I spoke naturally, "sure. I believe you."
"I'm not curious," he repeats, his chin tipping down. As always, that hair that defies all notions of gravity and logic stays in place, but there are a few strands that fall out of the spiky mess. They tip like tiny little claws onto the top of his forehead, just brushing the skin. Kakashi's next movement, raising his chin back up, springs them back into standing formation.
I spin away from the man, heading for the towel on the opposite counter of the kitchen. "And I said: I believe you."
I can feel Kakashi's eye roll before it happens. Deciding that I'd give him a break from my endless teasing, I turned to him. "Do you want me to show you how to use the laundry machines?"
Like one of the ninja hounds he prized so much, Kakashi's ears perk up. He looks at me, a gleam shining in that dark eye.
I guess that answers that, then.
~~
"These are our washers." I pointed out the three machines with the function buttons inquiring what type of load to wash. Then, I point out the matching three machines with buttons inquiring about drying needs. "And these are our dryers."
"They look—so modern," Kakashi commented. As always, he was uniquely intelligent, even for a world he wasn't originally from.
"They're newer than all of the appliances in my apartment," I explain. "We recently had a flooding problem that destroyed all of the ancient machines we used to have, so the landlord of this property was forced to get new ones. And since everyone from the complex nearby uses these, I guess they decided to spend a little more money to make up for the number of times they get called in to fix the damn things."
"Everyone in the complex uses these?" Kakashi asks. His face looked very businesslike—that full-on ninja face that took note of every insignificant detail and cataloged them in his mind.
Before I could reply, I heard the screen door upstairs squealing shut like someone was abusing it.
That damn thing really needs to get greased—
"Oh, shit," I panic, shoving Kakashi's bulky frame. "Get down. Now."
Immediately alerted to the danger, one of Kakashi's hands disappears into the folds of his sweatshirt, no doubt gripping a weapon.
"No weapons," I hissed, grabbing at that hand. "Quickly, just—trust me, alright?"
Later, I'll be ashamed at how I handled this situation. At the first sign a person had entered the complex, heading to the basement, I freaked out the deadly ninja standing at my side.
I even dared to shove him! Him!
Kakashi slowly lowers his tall form. Just as I wonder if I was mistaken about someone coming down to this level, I notice the familiar shape of straightened brown hair, and the panic solidifies.
"Excuse me," I whisper as I shove my hands into Kakashi's hair, trying my best to smoosh the spikier parts down as much as I could. I detach one hand to work the hood of the sweatshirt up to cover the spikes, when a voice finally descends.
"Hi." My neighbor girl, Sam—the one I pinned as an anime nerd—stops in her tracks after stepping onto the concrete basement floor.
If anyone would recognize Kakashi, it would be a person who I'd seen hold possession of a Demon Slayer keychain.
The floor of the apartment complex was crumbling away in places, incredibly uneven. With the shiny brown railings chipping large chunks of paint in swathes that littered the cobwebbed floor, the place would have no trouble starring in anyone's idea of a horror film.
The six machines were paired up, stuck in the middle of the room, back to back on wooden posts spaced out along the ground. We were mostly hidden from sight, but then a thought occurred to me.
I had my hands stuck in Kakashi's hair, shoving his head down just past the height of the gray machines. The top of his black hoodie was still entirely visible from the top of the stairs.
Once Sam had landed, she'd stilled in thunderstruck silence.
Oh, no.
Oh, no, no.
I cleared my throat, taking my hands off of Kakashi's head. I dared not glance down to see the look on the face of the man I'd just assaulted.
"H-Hello, Sam," I said lamely, wondering where to go from there.
See, I've never been good at making friends. Occasionally, I'd find someone I wanted to be friends with, but the pressure of trying to come off as someone who would make a good friend often made me clunky and awkward with the people I wanted to impress.
Like this girl, who always seemed so at peace with the world and had a Tanjiro keychain to boot.
"This isn't my boyfriend," I stated, taking the situation straight from bad to worse.
"I—I see," Sam said, her short legs skidding backward, bumping her calves up against the bottom step.
She wore her usual comfort-driven ensemble of a plaid top and worn jeans. With her black-rimmed glasses and thick, chin-length hair, she looked like any poster child for fall weather attire.
As if I hadn't made enough of a mockery of myself, I stupidly added, "I didn't think anybody would be down here at this time."
Cursing myself for not realizing one of the machines had stuff swirling inside of it, I offered the gods above no excuse.
I swear, my momma didn't make me this stupid. I don't know what happened.
Sturdy hands gripped my legging-covered ankles, nearly upending my spirit from my body before I remembered that Kakashi was still there, crouching just like I'd asked him to.
He held my ankles, his grip squeezing for attention. I looked down, wondering what silent message he was trying to portray, only to see my legs trembling, very visibly, out of Sam's sight.
Kakashi stared up at me, his features nearly entirely hidden within the hood, but the familiar dip in that face mask indicating the man's nose filled me with clarity.
Finally, I got myself under control.
"Is this your stuff?" I asked, clearing my throat and mind as I tried to work out how to salvage this conversation. "I'm sorry."
Sam forcefully shook her head. "Hey, no. No, no, no. We're all good here. We're all good. I don't need my clothes now, and you—you—congratulations. I'd always thought you were a bit of a depressed loner, but now I guess I don't have to secretly worry about you anymore..."
She trailed off, laughing awkwardly as she backpedaled on the stairs one at a time. At some point, she even began waving as she disappeared from sight, and soon the overwhelming sound of the screen door being mauled to death creaked through the early night.
I tried not to show my bristles, but oh boy was I bristling.
You don't need to worry about me, k, thanks.
Depressed loner? Congratulations? As if suddenly having laundry room sex with an unknown man was the cure for all my problems.
This was why I didn't understand people.
Even someone that seemed as cool and level-headed as Sam realized I was a total weirdo.
There's definitely something wrong with me.
"Can I stand up now?" Kakashi asked, his voice sounding lifeless and bored.
Startling, I moved the man's hood back, unearthing his face to the dim basement lighting. "Oh, right."
Kakashi's muscular form crouched right before me was suddenly too much, and I sprang away, turning my back on the situation.
As if that would make me suddenly leaping into the air look natural.
"On my next day off, I'll show you how to use them," I declared, already heading for the steps. "It's not that complicated. The newer machines are easier to use than the old ones were. You'll pick it up in no time. I have quarters in a jar at home, so I'll be sure to point it out when we get back."
I began walking up the wide, creaking steps, their shiny paint always looking wet enough to slip on.
"Gracie."
My ears burning, I turned my head to peer back down into the basement. "Yeah?"
Kakashi placed one foot on the bottom-most stair, smoothly surging up them in half the time it took me. Each creak was swallowed up by the next—just one crescendo of fast movement.
He landed on the stair below mine. "She shouldn't have said that."
My irritation dissipated like smoke. Like it had never been there in the first place.
How strange. Maybe all it took to release my anger was to feel understood by someone else. Truly understood.
"Kakashi..." I sighed, my involuntary smile digging into my cheeks.
Kakashi blinked, tilting his head. "What?"
I really love you.
Never before had my heart swelled quite this much from a character's actions.
But then again, one couldn't really call Kakashi a character anymore, could they?
Could I?
"Thank you."
Kakashi shook his head. "Now I'm confused. I didn't do anything."
"Yeah, you kinda did," I flounced up the stairs, my steps lighter than when we'd descended them.
I don't think I'll be sleeping a whole lot tonight, even though Kakashi will still be up to feed the kittens at 1 A.M.
What did it mean, this fullness in my chest? At just the prospect of not having to explain myself to another person, I lost all control.
Kakashi had just understood. He'd listened to Sam openly pitying me, listened to me make a fool of myself, but instead of pitying me, too, he'd looked past what was happening in the moment to the reality underneath.
"Just—thanks."
Kakashi appeared at my side on our short walk down the driveway and back to the apartment. I couldn't stop the skip in my step, despite his overwhelming form hovering right next to me.
He shrugged, his eyes searching the cloudy night sky. "Whatever you say."
Though it would only last for thirty, maybe forty seconds, I hoped our walk back to the apartment—with the stillness of the night and slight chill in the air—would last just a little bit longer.