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"Will you help me dry these when I'm done with them?" She rolled up the sleeves of her dress past her elbows, glancing at the wall behind the sink instead of Naruto. "I wasn't sure where to put them, either. Where do you normally keep your dishes?"

"The sink." She did shoot him a look, one eyebrow cocked. He shrugged. "Hey, I'm being honest."

"Honesty." she stated. Naruto waited, and she didn't seem to want to finish her thought. Instead, she furiously scrubbed at one of Naruto's plates, attacking left over gobs of maple syrup with the intent to kill. When she handed him the first completely spotless, almost boiling hot plate, he didn't know where to put it. Finally, he shrugged, and walked up the wall, carefully crouching on the ceiling as he fought the highest cupboard's door open. From his angle, he could see a pack of crackers and two granola bars that were probably older than he was, half devoured by a caccoon of spider webs.

"Hey, could you spare a rag?" He glanced down, and saw Makoto staring up at him with wide eyes. He looked around, trying to see what was odd. He paused. "Oh, it's the ceiling thing, right? If it bugs you, I can stop." She mutely shook her head, and walked to one side, retrieving a cloth that she reached up to pass to him. "Thanks." He bunched up the crackers and the bar, reaching the back corners with ease, and tossed the whole mess into the trashcan, which was only fifteen feet away and hidden in a corner.

His grandmother made quick work of the dishes, while he found himself struggling to find places to put dishes he had no idea he owned. He vaguely remembered having a gravy boat serving as a planter somewhere, while he had no clue how he got five different sizes of bowls, or where to put them.

A Twist of Chance, Chapter 7