"I can hear you," and her hands are not shaking. Her gaze does not waver when she turns to look at her classmates as they leave.
Her skin is covered in dirt and scratches. Her face is a little too broad to be cute, her eyes a little too big to be feminine. Her hair is shocking, as always, offensive in its flare. Minato watches as she pushes scarlet strands from her forehead, tucks them behind her ear. A few of the hairs fall back over her face anyway, stubborn as their owner.
The whispers behind them fall silent. From down the row, Minato tries to focus on gathering the papers in front of him, but, well. There she is, all of a sudden, staring down at him.
"Move," she grits between teeth. She is the girl from Whirlpool, fire from head to toe. Her cheeks are flush with her temper.
"Excuse me," Minato says politely, and doesn't move. "What is your name?"
She doesn't hesitate. Minato watches as she stalks around the other side of the row, a perfect, violent storm, right out of the room without another word.
It's alright, he thinks to himself. He cleans up his space with a flutter in his chest.
She is Kushina from Whirlpool. He is in love.
