Written: 11/19/22
Word Count: 2,970
"Gracie." Kakashi's voice turned to a murmur, his covered nose nestling right in my hair. "What's this, now? Weren't you the one who told me not to get sucked into my head earlier?"
The shuddering of my stifled sobs receded slowly as I gripped onto the truth of Kakashi's statement. I had just told him something similar, hadn't I? What was I doing now, being a hypocrite to my own words?
If I didn't act on my own philosophy, it would seem like my advice to Kakashi had been insincere. Even if I hadn't known what I was doing comforting a man during a night terror, and even though there had been so much more I had wanted to say...had I been insincere?
No.
I have to get a grip. Now.
If I don't, then I'm going to lose all credibility before this man. He's been lied to and cheated throughout his whole life...I can't be another one of those people. I can't be another reason this man falls further into darkness.
"Sorry," I said, my voice thick but understandable. "I was just overcome for a moment. I'm sorry."
"Can you look at me now?"
Slowly, I unclenched myself from around Kakashi's neck, slowly pulling my face back to take in Kakashi's gaze.
The unnatural silence felt electric. Each breath shared between the slim space between our faces, each stray muscle twitch or reshifting, felt alive.
When would Rengoku fire at us next? How far was his sense of hearing, and how was that affected by his current state?
I feared Kakashi wouldn't stand a chance against Rengoku's speed if he wasn't warned first. Such was the might of a Hashira on the hunt.
If Kakashi didn't see it coming, he could be in serious trouble.
Would one blow take Kakashi down, or would he be able to recover?
I never cared about inter-anime discussions centered around who would win in a fight. I always thought it was stupid to compare characters from two completely different worlds with two completely different scales of power levels.
Now I wished I'd paid attention to those random articles showing up on my Google homepage. If I at least understood the way people looked at differences in power, then maybe I could help strategize how this specific match-up would turn out.
My heart burned at the thought of watching Kakashi and Rengoku fight each other.
I absolutely didn't want to see that.
In any other situation, such a thing would never have a chance in hell of occurring. They might even be friends.
Their roles were similar in their respective worlds. In certain ways.
They were both the overpowered older generation who instilled their teachings to the next gen, however brief it had been for Rengoku. While Kakashi had more in common with Giyu, one couldn't ignore the impact of Rengoku on Tanjiro's life.
Kakashi had a similar effect on Naruto's life, especially during the Naruto Bridge Arc.
A sudden roar echoed all around us, and my hands automatically gripped Kakashi's shoulders, my legs bumping against his in a sudden jump.
"It's okay." One of Kakashi's arms wrapped around my back, leaving me clinging to him like some baby monkey. He began crawling down the roof, our heads raised lower than our legs. It was such a disorienting feeling—I don't know how bugs do this all day!
"It's going to be okay," Kakashi soothed, but a dark edge to his tone had me peeking at his side profile.
My hands balled up into fists where they gripped Kakashi's dark underclothes. I'm so pathetic, asking for his help all the time. Is this uselessness what Sakura always faced?
Who said a ninja only had worth if they fought on the front lines? Historically, Sakura's people skills, compassion, and quickness were far more useful in clandestine missions. Yet, because she was stuck in a Shonen misrepresentation of an entire culture, she was hated for being weak.
Useless.
I've always considered myself useless, and never once did I hate Sakura. There were times when I disliked the pacing of her actions compared to Naruto's and Sasuke's. But it never made me hate her.
And I wasn't some fool who thought her strength came to her too easily, just to make her seem less useless.
Sakura was at least 700% more useful than I could ever be.
Take this situation now. I left my apartment and put Kakashi in danger, just because I recognized Rengoku's face. I didn't have a plan, and I still don't.
What should I do? What could I do? What was within my power to control?
"I...I need to try talking to him," I said, my voice flimsier than a broken screen door, letting in drafts and creatures alike.
Kakashi paused in his downward climb, and the sudden motion pulled at my momentum, resettling my body where it was wrapped around his middle.
"You can't be serious."
I smiled, completely unaffected. It was obvious how it would turn out. I didn't blame him for sounding so unamused.
"I need to."
"Gracie."
"I need to."
"Gracie."
"Kakashi."
Annoyed into silence, Kakashi huffed a breath. Through his face mask, I could feel that puff of air shoot out like a bull's heavy snort.
"That is not happening." His voice brooked no argument.
My legs squeezed around his middle, and I forced my neck to move back a little to focus on his gaze. "I need to talk to him. Please."
Kakashi's gaze was unmoved. "He doesn't know who you are."
"I know that." I did. "But I can't just leave him like that."
"Not happening."
I nearly sighed in frustration. This was going nowhere. Just how was this man so stubborn? I had no chance of holding out until he lost patience, letting me do what I wanted.
I'd never met someone who wouldn't give even an inch.
Kakashi's stubbornness wasn't so obvious in the anime. I wonder if this was part of the fuller, fleshed-out version of him. I wonder if the anime version is only a cheap imitation, showing us the easier sides to the heroic ninja.
It wouldn't really surprise me. Shonen wasn't known for deep, intricate characters with multiple sides to them. I didn't really mind that. It was comforting to never be surprised by a familiar face that became dearer to you than a distant family member.
However, that wasn't reality.
A flash of vibrantly-blond hair caught my eye on the darker side of the roof, and just as Kakashi readied himself to jump down, Rengoku appeared around the corner.
"Look out!" I called, but my senses could never be faster than a ninja's.
Kakashi flew straight up, skyrocketing with such speed, my breath whooshed from my chest.
I took in the few scattered trees of my neighborhood, peering down at an angle I'd never witnessed before. Those taller condos on the other side of the long driveway, studded with light blue siding and intricate fake-rocks along their doorways. That darker building sitting further away from the light, where everyone nearby did their laundry. The darkened parking stand, shattered glass spilling into the driveway, catching against that piercing orange light.
It was a terrifying sight to behold.
Especially as we started to descend.
I just focused on squeezing my eyes shut and not screaming. The scream was there, sitting right at the base of my throat, just waiting to be unleashed.
A warm, bright feeling hurled closer to us, brightening the darkness of my closed lids.
I opened my eyes just in time to witness a surge of those illusory flames, studded with each ring of color a fire could be, reaching right up to us. There was nowhere to go. We could only keep falling, caught up in gravity's pull.
"Don't panic," Kakashi warned, flipping us around in midair like we were in an actual anime. His back faced the flames as we fell, giving me a clear look of the dark, starless sky peeking above the few birch trees on my apartment building's property.
The warmth pooled at my back, but it was far more comforting than the blaze I watched on my little iPad screen.
Was this really Rengoku's fire?
The landing was a harsh crunch against Kakashi's back, which sounded as if a pile of sticks had cracked in half right there and then. My breath had already been knocked out, so I gave a painful wheeze that felt like it would push my eyeballs straight out of my face.
"Kakashi?" I called, worriedly, trying to move off the man. Like a bug stuck on its back, I feared my squirming around was only worsening the situation. Legs like jiggly putty, I tried slithering off of him at an angle, a poor excuse for a snake.
Orochimaru would be so disappointed.
"Kakashi? Are you alright?" I scrounged myself up to my knees, peering at the scrunched brow of Kakashi's eyes, clenched tight.
His hands balled up at his sides, one leg half-heartedly propped up as if to help anchor him into a sitting position.
"It's okay," I said, patting the ground uselessly.
How useless was a person who didn't know first aid during an otherworldly battle between anime characters?
Those who hated on Sakura could take it from me. The girl would be far more useful in this situation than I was.
Did I move him? Should he even be trying to sit up? What would I do if he broke his back? I didn't know any doctors, and I wasn't sure if people who had no identification were even allowed to go to hospitals.
They were allowed to get treated, right? But after that, with insurance and everything...the police would be called.
But maybe the police should be involved. With their breadth and reach, their detectives and task force, wouldn't the police be able to help Kakashi better than I could ever hope to?
"Gracie." Kakashi's eyes were mere slits in his face, where the dark, Sharingan eye had been unearthed from its covering.
Startled like a rabbit, I jumped. "What?"
"Behind...you..."
One of Kakashi's hands gripped the sleeve of my sweatshirt. His hold was tight as he pulled himself to sit up.
Guilt fused my insides into stitches. He wouldn't be hurt like this if I hadn't stepped outside. He wouldn't even be cornered like this if I hadn't been here.
The warmth emanating from Rengoku's body was intense. Carefully, I turned my neck, knowing exactly who I would see walking up behind me.
Those triangular eyebrows, popping nearly off the man's face, were almost too bright to behold. There was nothing subtle about Rengoku. He was a classic anime character who looked like the very embodiment of their soul.
Rengoku completely embodied "set your heart ablaze."
A thickness entered my throat as I looked up at the dutiful demon slayer who hadn't hesitated for one second to die. Demon Slayer had surged through the world in popularity, much like My Hero Academia, but because it had grown so popular, the fans had become cheap imitators.
When something grew too popular, nothing was sacred. Nothing wouldn't be ridiculed or discarded as if it didn't matter. Popular shows were spots of deep criticism, comparisons to other shows thrown about heartlessly.
But it was cases like Rengoku—the tragedy, the pain, the mounting loss for the demon slayers as a whole, not even taking into account how Tanjiro's and Inosuke's lives were affected—that made me hate that popularity.
Rengoku had weathered an abusive father drowning in his own misery. He'd weathered a family tradition forcing him into a place of leadership. He'd weathered fighting demons for years, learning, growing stronger.
He'd almost defeated one of the Upper Six, just like that. Just with his flames, his fire, his focus.
And in the end, he'd sacrificed himself so that nobody else had to. He was a demon slayer, through and through.
There was nothing to ridicule in that. There was nothing to poke fun of or gloss over, as if all his worth as a character was useless. Was as predictable as a simple plot device. A trope.
Kyojuro Rengoku deserved more recognition than that.
Those whitened eyes, their irises rolled up nearly out of sight, peered down at us. I felt Kakashi's hold tighten, as if he were about to switch our positions, but I hardened my own stance on the ground. I gripped the hand holding my sweatshirt, stilling him in place. It was only possible because he didn't have a good grasp on me to easily overpower me and switch our spots.
I stared up at that crazed face, those veins bulging.
"Hey, Rengoku?" My voice was steadier than I think it had ever been as I calmly looked up at the blade writhing flames mere inches away from my face.
Rengoku tilted his head, his brow furrowing in recognition.
"I'm sorry you're hurting," I continued, actively shoving my shoulder into Kakashi's wounded form as he continued trying to move our positions.
Rengoku stared down at us, his face immobilized. He was listening.
"Hey, Rengoku?" I repeated. "Set your heart ablaze."
The words visibly struck him, reeling his head back. He floundered back a few steps, gripping his forehead with one hand. As if he suddenly had a terrible migraine, Rengoku started shaking his head back and forth.
Whatever he was fighting, it looked like, at last, he was making strides in getting the upper hand.
Kakashi and I watched his internal struggle. Rengoku roared, and his aura shot flames high, high into the sky. The sound traveled like rippling waves across my neighborhood. It felt as if everything flew back at his cry, each tree flattening itself as if a mighty gust had pushed them aside.
A strange light began to emanate from within his body. The fiercer his fight became, the more endless the roaring from deep within his chest. It opened cracks in his skin, his clothes, everything shining with trembling veins of gold. Like lava, Rengoku appeared to be made of the brightest of lights. Not blood, nor organs. Just light.
But that wasn't entirely true. He'd existed here, breathing, for a little while.
"Hey, Kakashi..."
"I know." Kakashi's voice was solemn.
I was back to wondering how it was possible for them to have come to this world in the first place. Rengoku's form was splintering, fighting against whatever had been controlling his rage and making him smash cars. As he took control of himself, the light splintered him further.
It was truly amazing to witness, even as it felt like I was watching him die again.
Suddenly, those eyes rolled back down, peering out at us with the vibrant golden irises that were ringed in that circle of red.
I blinked as those eyes met mine.
"Young miss." Rengoku's tone was cheerful, if changed from the anime like Kakashi's. "I thank you. Your words reminded me of my purpose. My strength."
My eyes couldn't get any wider as Rengoku's form blurred out, turning merely into light. Like a soul ascending to the heavens, his ghostly form floated into the sky, where a dazzling purple center had suddenly appeared. A spot of darker darkness within the black backdrop.
"It seems there is a dark entity that resides here. I was powerless to fight against it. I've never seen a demon whose blood demon art was like this. You should be careful, Young Miss."
"Set your heart ablaze," he called down, disappearing within that inky purple pool in the sky. "Remember to never lose the fire within you! Then, no matter the demon who strikes you, you won't lose yourself! Good luck!"
"Kakashi..."
"I know," the man repeated, watching Rengoku's shimmering form disappear into something that certainly looked like a portal.
But a portal? In real life? Or, in this world, I should say? How was that possible?
How was anything possible anymore?
"I guess we have our first clue," Kakashi muttered, darkly.
I didn't blame him. For a world that had no magic, how were we ever going to figure out what made the portals work? After tonight's episode, it appeared as if Rengoku had been controlled by something. By reaching out to him with familiar words, he'd found the inner strength to fight back against it. When he'd won, he'd seemingly earned the right to go home.
But that was Rengoku. A man with exceptional inner strength.
Besides, nothing so ominous had happened to Kakashi. Were they summoned for two different purposes? Was it by chance, or was there a culprit?
"What's that?" Kakashi's hold on my arm tightened once more, and I followed his gaze to a shadow receding out of sight. Since we were still on the darker side of the apartment building, we could only see a shapeless shadow retreat out of the immediate vicinity.
Chills raised the hair along my arms, and I shivered. "Someone watching the spectacle? I hope they don't report this to the news...or record it."
"Hmm." Kakashi was lost in thought.
A lump formed in my throat at the thought of what the ninja was probably thinking about.
Rengoku had been controlled by something to smash and destroy. Once he'd fought that thing inside him until he'd regained control, he'd been allowed to go back to wherever he'd come from.
The portal was certainly evidence that these anime characters really did exist, in their own dimensions. Their own realities. Otherwise, wouldn't Rengoku have just disappeared?
Then, what were the rules for Kakashi's return home?
I swallowed, forcing my throat to work past that lump. Some answers had been found tonight, but even more had thrown themselves into the mix.
I couldn't help but feel as if we'd lost this round.
But, against who?