There is a pounding in my head as I wake up, blinding light from the bedroom window shining in my eyes. I feel as if I've gotten absolutely no sleep at all; perhaps that's the depression setting in? I did just get fired, after all.
In my groggy state, it takes longer than I'd like to admit for me to realize that the pounding isn't entirely in my head.
Rather, it sounds like the police are trying to break down my door.
Startled, I quickly sit up in bed—except, it isn't my bed but a worn, wine-colored loveseat settled in front of an old, boxy television set.
My head swings back and forth in wild confusion, as I am no longer in my own apartment but someone else's.
"Hi-mu-ka-cha-n," a voice yells from the front door, each syllable punctuated by a heavy thump.
My head jerks in that direction and my eyes widen. The door is visibly shuddering under the force of the person's strength as they pound! How weak is the door?! It's almost flying off the hinges!
"Stop, stop! I'm coming," I yell as loud as I can over the rhythmic noise and it stops moments later.
I throw a thin blanket off of myself and quickly get up, twitching at the coldness of the wooden floor on my bare feet.
Even as I walk, though, I am constantly turning and twisting my body to take in the apartment I'm now in.
In a word, it's … shabby.
There are cracks and even gaping holes in the plaster, the floorboards creak ominously, the furniture looks as if it's been pulled from a dumpster, and there is only one lamp in the whole place.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hear a voice shrieking about kidnapping and drugs and human trafficking, but I'm a bit preoccupied with who the hell is pounding at the door like a maniac.
When I swing open the hunk of wood, every word I had been planning to say dies in my throat.
"Oi, Himuka, what took you so long?! My arms are gonna fall off!"
A boy, only a scant inch shorter than I, with wide blue eyes and marks like whiskers on his cheeks...
Uzumaki Naruto stands in the hallway.
