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ajremixTitle: Build, Break, Rebuild
Fandom: Eyeshield 21
Rating: PG-13 for swearing
Word Count: 48,810
Characters: Primarily Hiruma and Mamori, other manga and original characters also
Summary: Non-canon. They’ve been in a relationship for some time. A new variable tosses everything for a loop.
It’s been nearly a year since he’d been back home. Being the second in charge of an entire conglomerate meant he was just less important enough to have to observe over each new branch store that opened up. There had been five new shops in the passed three years all across Japan and he’d stayed with each store for a few months to make certain they’d thrive well.
One up in Hokkaido, however, had had some problems. It took some direct intervention on his part as well as the better part of the year to save the shop, but it was now flourishing nicely. Nice of them to reward him with a months vacation to spend with the family in return.
He hadn’t called them to let them know he’d be back, but that was fine. He smiled as the train slowed to his station. They’d be so surprised.
~*~*~*~
Mamori was lying on her stomach on the couch, preparing for her biology test the next morning when Hiruma came in. She looked up when he sat on the arm of the couch, the second joint of his index finger in his mouth.
“What’s wrong?” She asked.
“Your mom chased me outta the kitchen.” He said. Mamori wasn’t certain why he seemed perplexed. Was it because her mother banned him from a room? Or because-
She hid a smile. “Is that all?”
“When I say ‘chased’ I mean ‘threatened’. Well, more like she attacked me until I left. Your mom’s wicked with a spoon.” Hiruma told her, idly sucking on his sore finger.
“It’s when she pulls out her special spatula that you need to worry.”
“The big metal one with the surface as big as my palm? Yeah, she was goin’ for it when I thought it best if I left.”
Mamori shook her head. “What were you doing?”
“I got bored. Dinner smelled good. So I decided to give it a try.”
“We’re having stew for dinner.”
“I know.”
“Do you even know where anything in the kitchen is?”
“Nope.”
She tried to keep the smile off her face, she really did. “Were there any extra spoons around?”
“Nope.”
“So you were going to sneak a taste of stew with your finger? And you’re surprised she only ‘chased’ you out?”
“Nah. I’m surprised how fast she is. She’s got radar or somethin’, I didn’t even make a sound!”
Mamori stuffed a hand against her mouth to stave off any laughter. Hiruma gave her a frown. “Oh, that’s really assuring. Laugh at my plight.”
Reaching out, Mamori grabbed his injured hand and gave the knuckle a little kiss. “Better?” She asked.
“What, that it?”
“What else am I supposed to do?”
“Pop it in your mouth and suck?”
“Hiruma-kun!”
“What?”
Shaking her head, Mamori moved to one side, letting Hiruma slid full length between her and the back of the couch.
“What’re you studyin’?” He asked against her hair.
“Biology. Tuesdays are always ‘pop quiz’ days. You’d think he’d learn to change his routine sometime.”
“But then it wouldn’t be easy for the people who pay attention.” He said, burying his nose against her hair. While Hiruma would deny any existence of anything resembling a romantic bone or bone fragment in his body, Mamori knew he loved the scent of her shampoo. She lost count, long ago, of how many days or hours he’d spend holding her close, buried in the scent.
She giggled and gave Hiruma a half-hearted shove. “Hiruma-kun, I really need to be studying.” But she turned onto her back, hand against his chest as he settled over her. He grinned, pulling her other hand away from her book and kissed her and then kissed her again and again. Mamori skritched a nail over the fine bones of his ear and giggled again when he let out something halfway between a purr and a ticklish laugh.
“Hiruma-kun?” She asked quietly. “Hiruma-KUN.” She made a face and squirmed a bit as his hand trailed up her thigh.
“Hm?” But she knew he wasn’t paying attention. Mamori knew well enough that while he wouldn’t actually /do/ anything, he just had this thing about touching her. He’d stop when he knew she really wanted him to stop (not like she minded most of the time, anyway), but despite how long they’ve gone out, Mamori would rather not run the risk of her mother walking in at a time like this.
“Can you keep your hands a little higher than that?”
A thin eyebrow rose up. “You want me higher?” He teased.
Mamori rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean, Hiruma-“ Something loomed over the two, grabbed Hiruma by the back of the collar and jerked him backward so fast he barely had the chance to choke. “HIRUMA-KUN!?”
Flailing, Hiruma hit the side of the coffee table, knocking it a good half foot from its original position and spilling Mamori’s notes to the floor. The fall must’ve knocked the wind out of him because the second the he got his breath back he fairly exploded with curses.
Whoever it was holding him by the collar gave him another harsh jerk that left Hiruma spluttering and coughing. “Shut your disgusting mouth!” The person- a man, at least middle aged by the sound of the voice -spat. Mamori’s eyes widened.
“Who the fuck-“ Hiruma got cut off with another jerk.
“That means watch your language, /boy/.” The man hissed.
Something heavy and commanding pressed against the man’s leg and a voice growled out in the carefully measured way of someone one straw short of snapping: “If you want the continued existence of both your kneecaps, then get your fucking paw off of me.”
The man narrowed his eyes, but before he could retaliate, Mamori had pulled his hand away from Hiruma’s collar. “Father!” Her voice almost squeaked in surprise, shock, and maybe a little embarrassment. “You-You’re home!”
Standing up, Hiruma looked at the man like his very existence left a bad taste in his mouth. “/This/ is your father?”
He growled back in response. “And who the hell are you?”
Hiruma bristled at the superior tone while Mamori interceded. “Th-This is Hiruma Youichi. He’s my, um, boyfriend.”
“ ‘Boy friend’?” That tone would’ve shoved Hiruma’s A9 down the man’s throat if Mamori weren’t holding his arm like someone’s life depended on it.
At that moment, attempting to break the tension with a warm, forced smile and good food, Mamori’s mother came in, “Come, come!” She said. “Let’s all eat!” Mamori, hoping dinner would- if not dissolve -stave off any impending explosions, helped to herd the two scowling men toward the table.
Her mother, trying to cover up the tension with chatter, said, “Dear, I’m so surprised you’re home! Why didn’t you call us and let us know? I would’ve made something better than just stew!” She led her husband to the seat at the head of the table, putting his place settings before him. “How was work, dear? You were in the Nagano area, weren’t you?”
“Hokkaido.” The man said simply. Hiruma snorted. “/What/?” Came the derisive sneer.
“Nothin’.” The blonde replied, giving a curt nod as Mamori filled his bowl. “Just amused at the fact that your family didn’t even know where you were.”
Mamori gave him a strained look. “Hiruma-kun.”
But he just gave her that dark grin that was his trademark and said, “Just making conversation.”
Her father didn’t find the humor in it, though. “Oh? And what about you?” He asked with a frown. “What do you do?”
Mamori cut in, noticing the little warning signs in Hiruma’s manner and expression that meant this meal was going to go downhill very quickly. “Hiruma-kun’s the captain of the school’s football team.”
“Really? They really allow such an ill-mannered punk into sports clubs now? This school has gotten worse in the years.” The man retorted, calmly taking his spoon to the stew.
“Father-“
But Hiruma just cut right back in. “Naw, this school ain’t that great. But that’s why you need guys to shake things up.”
“With the active use of firearms, I suppose?” His voice was like ice.
“By any means necessary. I’m sure a man like you would understand that.”
The two glared at each other from across the table and Mamori’s father placed his spoon down with more force than necessary. “And what does that mean?”
“You’ve been gone for almost a year.” Hiruma tapped a long finger on the table. Any trace of humor was gone from his smirk, just making it sharp and merciless. “Must take some work to keep afloat at that rate.”
“Are you implying I don’t do my job well?”
“The one at work or the one at home?”
The older man’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You think I’m neglecting my family.”
“I’m just sayin’ what I know.”
“You’re a high school student trying to criticize a hard working man. Apparently you don’t know a lot- if anything.”
This time all pretense of friendliness fell from Hiruma’s face. “Know enough that you keep this up you’re lucky if you have a company at all.“
“Are you threatening me? What can a little /boy/ like you do?”
“I could have you on your knees begging in 48 hours.”
The man puffed up, his face turning red. “Threatening, violent, uneducated- to think that my only daughter would have fallen so low as to enjoy /your/ company.”
Mamori paled and Hiruma nearly rose from his seat. “What did you say?” He growled lowly, words rumbling across the table.
Mamori’s mother put a hand on her husband’s arm. “Dear, maybe we should-“
But she was ignored as the man growled back, “You must have forced her into this relationship. My daughter is smarter than that, she could have anyone she wants. You’re just going to use her and dirty her and throw her away where you can laugh at her like all the others you’ve used. I know your type and you should be glad I haven’t called the police on you, yet.”
The muscles in Hiruma’s snarl twitched as he tried- best he could -to restrain himself. “You’re fuckin’ disgusting, old man.” Mamori’s father scowled, face growing redder and redder with every venomous word cut from Hiruma’s sharp tongue. “Thinkin’ so little of your own kid. You think she’s too weak to make her own decisions? Or do you just think that she’s a whore? You can bitch and complain all you want, but any ‘faults’ you have with her and her decisions is because you’re never around for her. Think you’re so fuckin’ high and mighty. You ignore everything around you and then whine that it ain’t goin’ your way. You’re the type of guy I want to spit on. It’s a good thing you never /are/ around. I’d hate to imagine what sort of short-sighted bitch Mamori would’ve turned out to be-“
*BAM!*
The table rattled and the dishes threatened to tip over. It took Mamori a moment to realize that she was on her feet, hands slammed against the tabletop. “Hiruma-kun!” He looked up at her, more than slightly surprised. Words came out of her mouth that she barely even heard. “That’s enough!”
“Enough?” Now he seemed more puzzled. “Enough of what?”
“You can’t say those sorts of things!”
That just made him angry. “What sort of things? What am I suddenly not allowed to say?”
That was their fundamental difference: Mamori grew up learning all sorts of mannerisms and courtesies from her mother. Hiruma grew up learning the only time to use restraint was when it was required to get ahead. He didn’t mince his words, he didn’t give mercy to anyone. If it needed to be said, he would say it, with no holds bared. And that difference- and both of their stubbornness -lead to both of their downfalls.
“So because he’s your father, I shouldn’t defend myself, is that it?” Hiruma continued. “Or /you/?”
“Because he’s my father you should treat him with respect!”
The moment those words left Mamori’s lips, Hiruma’s face closed up and Mamori prayed this was just a nightmare. She knew better. No one told Hiruma what he could and couldn’t do. And on top of that, she knew that respect was /never/ just given, least of all by Hiruma. To try to force respect out of Hiruma- to try to tell Hiruma to do anything –was a sure way to get on the top of his shit list.
And she just crossed both lines in one go.
Shoving his chair away from the table, Hiruma said, “Anezaki-san, it was a wonderful dinner. Even if the company wasn’t.”
The older woman hissed at her daughter, “Mamori-chan!” but the girl was already chasing after Hiruma’s back.
“Hiruma-kun!” She caught up with him as he slipped on his shoes. “Hiruma-kun, where are you going?”
“If I ain’t wanted here, why the hell should I stick around?” He growled to her. “You made your feelings clear, so I’m leaving.”
“But- Hiruma-kun!”
“You picked your side.” He growled, eyes cold and unrelenting. “Don’t go backtracking now.” Sweeping up his jacket in one hand and schoolbag in the other, he turned to the door. “We got practice tomorrow morning.” Mamori felt her heart contract at the flat tone in his voice. “Don’t be late. Fucking manager.”
Mamori couldn’t even wait for the door to fully shut between them before she fell to her knees and cried.
~*~*~*~
Mamori sat at her desk at school. It was, apparently, one of those kinds of weeks where one day spun into the next when no one was looking. She felt numb inside, had felt numb since Hiruma walked away from her. Even the simple act of scratching notes into her notebooks seemed unreal.
It was almost as if she had stepped out of her body, watching as it smiled and greeted her friends, as it did her schoolwork. And she was trapped somewhere far away, wrapped in a soft, thick cloud that barred any sensation or emotion from reaching her.
She couldn’t stand that feeling.
She forced a smile during practice. She forced herself to be energetic at school. She forced herself to be some many things to make that empty feeling go away that she didn’t have the strength to keep smiling at the end of the day.
The only thing that cut through that sensationless fog was the one time Hiruma looked at her all day. When he looked at as though she were his enemy. As though she had betrayed him. That sneer, piercing and frightening, cut through her and froze her lungs and all she felt then was pain and despair.
She couldn’t live with that. She couldn’t just let things end like this.
It was during after school practice that she had the chance to make things right again. After all, he wasn’t the one that had done anything wrong, it was Mamori’s fault. Perhaps he just wanted an apology, perhaps he was waiting for her to make the first move.
And even if he wasn’t, well…. Wasn’t it best to know? After all, what could be worse then feeling nothing?
Mamori pushed open the door, knowing everyone else was already on the field, and saw the man in question lacing up his cleats. There was something about being alone in the locker room that seemed to take the harsh edge off of Hiruma’s face. The dim lighting broke off and filtered over his high cheeks and the thick spikes of his hair. With his long ears and sharp features, sitting, wrapped up in that gray silence, he seemed almost unreal.
At that moment, Mamori didn’t think she needed anything- to breathe, to live -as much as she needed Hiruma.
He stood suddenly, a graceful line like the swell of a wave, grabbing his helmet by the facemask as he went. Mamori’s mouth opened before she was even certain what words were hidden in there. “Ne, Hiruma-kun.” He turned to look at her, but Mamori couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, but I want you to know that I didn’t mean to say that- to hurt you….”
Hiruma turned to her fully, long arms crossed over his jersey and she could still remember how it smelled and felt and how his eyes gleamed, watching her move around in something that solely belonged to him. It made her voice thick and each word had to be forced out.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen. I really…. I think I love you, Hiruma-kun.”
Words shouldn’t have so much power. It’s so easy to change the meaning of words, always flighty and inconsistent, so logically they /shouldn’t/ have so much power. But they /did/ and Hiruma knew that. That was why he was careful with what he said. Words were what gave him control. But he still didn’t expect the crash of so many different emotions to fall through him, or the screams of so many thoughts that wanted to be said.
But pride was just as powerful and, even if he didn’t know what it was protecting anymore, it made him turn away. “Get to the field.” His voice could’ve frozen stars and cracked that numbness that surrounded Mamori. “Yer wasting enough time as it is.”
~*~*~*~
Sena had noticed something odd about Mamori all day. Especially during the afternoon practice when she came out looking pale and unfocused. He had tried to talk to her on their walk home but she just gave him a bad attempt at a smile and said things were fine. He had called her right after dinner, hoping time would make her more receptive to him. “Ne, Mamori-neechan. Are you sure you’re okay?”
He heard that bad attempt to smile again over the phone. “/I’m okay, Sena-kun. Really./”
“You don’t seem like it.”
“/It’s just…. I’m just going through a hard time right now. That’s all./”
“I want to help you.”
“/That’s kind of you, but I don’t think you can./”
“Please!” He pleaded into the receiver. “Let me help anyway I can! Mamori-neechan’s always helping me and protecting me- I want to be able to help you, even once!”
Somehow, the force and purity of Sena’s emotions made her want to cry again. “/Sena-kun… I wish there was a way you could help me./” She put a hand to her mouth when an unintentional gasp broke through. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She didn’t want to be numb, but she didn’t want /this/. This sudden pain that was grinding at her mind, something that ripped her insides apart and made her hands and voice shake. “/I wish you could keep it from hurting this much but you can’t, you just… Just can’t- I’m sorry, Sena-kun./”
There was another sob on the line. “Mamori-“ And then the beeping of a cut-off line. “-neechan…”
Sena looked at his phone and frowned.
~*~*~*~
He had hoped that walking with Mamori-neechan to school would give him the opportunity to help her out with whatever was wrong. He knew it had something to do with Hiruma-san (he was the only one that could get Mamori-neechan so worked up) but he didn’t know how to approach it. Trying to get on a topic about Hiruma was like flipping a coin. You didn’t know what was a comfortable topic and what wasn’t. Sometimes she’d talk on about his bad habits or what annoying things he did that day. And then sometimes she’d look away with a wonderful smile- or maybe even a little blush –and say that things are fine.
But because he trusted Mamori, Sena never pressed. But this time, this time he wouldn’t let her off with an ‘everything is okay’.
Deep in thought, he didn’t realize someone was already waiting at the front of Mamori’s home. “Ah, Sena-kun.”
The boy froze in mid-step. “A-Anezaki-san? When did you get back?”
Mamori’s father leaned against the fence. “A few days ago. Are you here for Mamori?”
“Y-Yes, sir.” And suddenly, Sena understood everything.
But he grinned. “No need for that, Sena-kun, my boy. I still think of you as a son, you know that.” He clapped a heavy hand on Sena’s shoulder. “Mamori really needs friends like you right now.” He regarded Sena slowly. “But you know this Hiruma, don’t you? What’s he like?”
Because it was hard for him to be anything else, Sena was truthful. “Honestly, he’s the scariest guy in school. Everyone’s afraid of him.” He laughed nervously. “He blackmails and threatens people, he’s got the local gangs under his thumb. Whenever he gets mad, he’s always shooting at us- er, the um, the team.” Sena hung his head. “And he makes his dog to chase me, I think that’s the worst.”
Mamori’s father frowned. “To think my daughter would like that sort of person. I have been gone for too long.”
But he felt Sena straighten under his hand and his shoulders pull back and he realized that Sena was no longer that skinny little boy whose knees he used to bandage up. High school had changed him, apparently, he was strong, capable and that determined, almost fearless look in his eyes uprooted the previous years of apprehension and was growing strong.
“Hiruma-san isn’t just like that.” And his voice held just as much conviction as his eyes. “Hiruma-san is kind in his own way. He’s given a lot of people a purpose and a direction and strength and even if it doesn’t seem like it, he wants the best for his team and the people he cares about. He and Mamori-neechan may argue on occasions, but to Mamori-neechan does it for my sake. He’s never done anything wrong to her and she wouldn’t have let him, anyway.”
The man took his hand from Sena’s shoulder and while the boy had fire, the man had experience. Even if it was just experience in hearing only what he wanted to hear.
“It’s good to see you again, Sena-kun.” He said gruffly. “I’ll see if Mamori’s ready yet for you.”
~*~*~*~
What Sena like best about Mamori was the way he always felt comfortable around her. Even with a secret as large between them as Eyeshield, being with her was relaxing.
But he knew that she was unwell. He could see it in the way she held her head and how her eyes were dark. He felt it in the way she walked next to him and saw it in her hands wrapped about her bag. She was depressed, she was tense, she was crying inside and Sena didn’t know what to do about it.
He knew the problem: Hiruma. Except, despite earlier belief, it wasn’t just about Hiruma. It was also about her father. Sena knew that he tended to be overly protective of Mamori whenever he was around. Whenever he’d find out that Mamori had chased bullies away for Sena, he’d always berate her, saying how she could’ve gotten hurt and should’ve gotten an adult instead.
Her father was the only person that ever protected her so completely, the only one that ever really pushed her to succeed to her fullest. Her mother and Sena would encourage her best, but they were always happy in whatever Mamori chose. Because of that, Mamori thought the world of her father- even if only recently she began to resent his absent presence –and she could never allow anyone to speak badly about him.
Because of that, Sena didn’t know what to say. Each line he thought up felt just as abrasive and crude as the next. In this situation he knew instinctively he had to be gentle, if he said the wrong thing it felt like Mamori would break- and that made him want to break.
Mamori wasn’t weak. He was more likely to fall apart before she was. Sena didn’t like the new Mamori.
Down the street they walked in silence. Through the school gates, together and quiet, to the field and to the clubhouse. Inside they parted without words to their routines for practice. The silence prevailed in the lockers and even the morning roughhousing and joking were muted. Sena didn’t know if they felt the same wrongness he did or if maybe his preoccupation turned everything else into cotton.
The team filtered out onto the field and the morning was gray and oppressive. A storm was coming, but it felt more like a reflection of what was going through Sena’s mind. Before they hit the field, however, Sena forced his courage tight and stopped next to Mamori.
“Mamori-nee-, er, Mamori-san.” He winced inwardly at his near slip up. When she looked at him with her sad, dark eyes, he nearly lost his nerve. But, swelling his chest outward, he said, “Please be happy!” and turned tail and ran.
He failed to see the breaking smile that failed to stay on her face.
She knew that he was only trying to help, but each encouragement given made Mamori want to cry that much more. She hated herself at that moment. She hated what Hiruma had done to her, but she hated herself more. Because she let herself fall so hard, she made the mistake that drove him away and she couldn’t keep herself from slipping so badly.
Mamori sat upon her bench, a stopwatch in hand and clipboard on her lap, watching sightlessly as the team moving around her. The entire day could’ve passed at that moment and she wouldn’t have notice, but someone yelped on the field and the commotion caught everyone’s attention.
“What the fuck is this?” Hiruma kicked an orange cone that littered the near end zone, several of them were already knocked over from where Ishimaru and Yukimitsu got tangled up in them. “Oi, fucking manager! Why the hell are these damn cones still here? You were suppose to clear them up after our sprints!”
Mamori jumped, fumbling with the stopwatch and clipboard. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t, I mean I forgot to-“
He narrowed his eyes at her until her words jumbled to a halt. The rest of the team seemed to simultaneously move in and step back. “Are you trying to sabotage my team?” Hiruma asked, his voice a rumbling threat.
“N-No.”
“Hey, Hiruma.” Ishimaru said, climbing up to his feet. “It’s okay, we’re fine. Right, Yukimitsu?” The lanky boy nodded frantically. “We’re good, no harm done.”
But his words were blocked out as Hiruma marched over to where Mamori stood, just short of cowering under his viscous gaze. Stopping a mere foot away, he wrenched the clipboard out of her hands. Mamori managed a short gasp and the stopwatch fell to the floor. Hiruma glared at the clipboard, then at her.
“What the fuck is this?” He repeated quietly. Mamori looked away. Her posture, her attitude, the very look on her face made him explode. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!” He cleaved the clipboard to the ground, unmarked papers flying around them. “You were supposed to be keeping track of times and you haven’t done a goddamn thing! What the hell were you thinking about? You’ve got a job to do, fucking manager, so how about paying attention!?”
Mamori clenched her hands together. “I’m sorry…”
God, he couldn’t stand that fucking expression. “You know what, just leave.” She looked up at him sharply. “If yer just gonna sit on your ass being useless then get the hell off my field. I’ve got better things to do than deal with your fuck-ups.”
Mamori’s throat closed up and she couldn’t lift her head, she couldn’t speak. Legs trembling so badly she couldn’t walk straight, she stood and slowly made her way off the field. Mamori hiccuped, trying to hold back her tears, but when they spilled over, all she knew was that she had to get out of there.
She ran into the clubhouse out of habit, barely even realizing that she ran into someone until heavy hands guided her to a chair.
“Hey, hey.” A rumbling said and Mamori tried to see who they were between the tears and gasps. “What’s wrong?”
“Mu-Musashi-san.” She put a hand to her face, trying to stave off more tears. “I’m sorry.”
He just waved it off. “Forget it. What’s the matter?”
“I’m sorry. I’m…. I’m just an idiot.”
Musashi held back a sigh. This would probably take a while. “With you so broken up, this either has something to do with that little guy, Sena, or Hiruma.” Cupping his chin, he continued, “And since this is the first place you came, most likely it was Hiruma.”
Wiping her eyes, Mamori asked, “How did you know?”
“Because this place most resembles him. When people get hurt they tend to gravitate to a place or a thing that reflects that person.” He huffed. “What did he do?”
But Mamori shook her head. “It’s not-not his fault. Not really.” Musashi would’ve said something about that, but decided it was more important to leave her on her own. “I’m just so stupid. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t /mean/ to, not really. But everything was just getting so confusing and I didn’t know what to do and-“ she choked off a sob, “I wish I never said anything….”
Fishing into a pocket, Musashi brought out a handkerchief. Clean though it was, there were stains permanently imbedded in the fabric. She didn’t pay them any heed as she attempted to dry her cheeks.
Sniffling, Mamori continued. “I wanted to apologize- I’ve wanted to for the passed few days! But Hiruma-kun won’t listen. And everything he says suddenly hurts just so much….. It’s painful being without him, but every time I try to apologize, every time he just /looks/ at me like that-“ Her words twined with another rising sob. “I don’t know what to do! Hiruma-kun….!”
With a shake of his head, Musashi pulled Mamori against his shoulder and patted her back as she cried. Frown set on his face, he muttered to himself, “That idiot.”
~*~*~*~
Hiruma very nearly literally burned up the field during the rest of the morning practice. Any little mistake he gave out a full ass chewing, any slip-ups or attempts to rest were met with threats and his trigger fingers found any excuse to fire.
He set a lot of people on edge on his good days, he got a lot of people bristling on normal days. But now, Hiruma didn’t seem to be thinking straight. His words were vipers- poisonous and deadly and just as likely to backfire as anything else.
“What kind of blocking was that!?” Hiruma roared, throwing his helmet at the linemen. “Why the fuck do I even bother keeping you guy around- fucking no-talent little shits!”
A badly aimed kick sent Hiruma’s helmet bouncing to his far right. “What did you just say?” Juumonji spat. “What the fuck did you just call us?”
“You heard! You and your worthless bastard buddies are this close to seriously pissing me off!” The team watched in horror and found themselves unable to keep themselves from gathering around the fight.
Juumonji made a dive for Hiruma, but hands pulled at the back of his jersey and at his arms, leaving him digging treads into the grass. “Hey you fucker! You’re the one that forced us on your sorry ass team to begin with!” There had to have been at least three people holding him- he elbowed someone in the head but barely realized it. The sky was darkening overhead and the air became oppressive. Some where a thunder began to brew. “Just because you fucked up with your girl doesn’t mean we’re gonna take your bullshit!”
Hiruma’s eyes narrowed. “What was that?” The rest of the team took a collective step back.
“You heard.” Juumonji sneered, mocking Hiruma’s own words. “You drove off the one good thing that ever happened to you and you want /us/ to deal with your anger at being such a fucking moron! WELL IT DOESN’T WORK THAT WAY. Be a dipshit on your own damn time! I got better things to do than take your crap, if it’s got you so worked up then why don’t you just take your head out your ass and fucking apologize to her!”
“That’s none of your business!”
“You tear into my buddies for no damn reason, that /makes/ it my business!”
Snarling, Hiruma surged forward, but an arm was already looped over his chest and two more around his waist. He didn’t know when they got there or whom they belonged to, but he gnashed his teeth together in defiance. “Get the fuck off my field!”
Kurita tried to move in between them. “Ne, Hiruma-“
He swept back with an arm, knocking loose whoever was holding him. “I said get off my field! Everyone, GET THE FUCK OFF!”
The team bolted as Hiruma bellowed at them. There was a clicking sound in his ears and Hiruma realized that he held a now empty rifle in his hand, the field filled with smoke, gun shells and pocked up grass. He dropped the weapon to the ground and staggered back slightly. Breath coming out in heaves, Hiruma made his way to the basket filled with footballs, his fingers slipping on the oblong shape as his shaking hands tried to pick one up. He threw it and watch it land eight yards too short and ten to the right. He cursed and picked up the next one. That one also flew well off target. Cursing again, Hiruma picked up the next. And the next. And the next. The more Hiruma threw, the worse each throw became and the more control was slipping from his grasp.
In a fit of anger and frustration, Hiruma tossed the whole damn case down the field. It took him ten minutes sitting on the sideline to stop his hands from shaking.
By the time he had regathered the scattered footballs, people were starting to filter into the school. Wheeling the cart to the clubhouse, Hiruma found Monta- in school uniform -waiting outside the doors. His arms were crossed and large eyebrows lowered.
Kicking open the door and tossing the cart somewhere inside the room, Hiruma made his way to the lockers. “I’m not in the fucking mood so say your piece and get the fuck outta my face.”
But the look on Monta’s face said he wasn’t going to be passed over as easily as that. “You’ve got nerve! I don’t care who you think you are, no one makes Mamori-san cry!”
“And what?”
It probably shouldn’t have been a surprise; Monta was a very fiery tempered, rather confrontational kind of guy. But never would Hiruma have imagined he- or anyone else on the team -would dare to lay a hand on him, let alone slam him into a wall.
“I don’t get what Mamori-san sees in you- I never did!” The shorter boy yelled, his large knuckles painfully pressed against Hiruma’s breastbone. “But I stepped back because she liked you. I never would’ve done anything to get in the way of Mamori-san’s happiness, but nothing- absolutely /nothing/! -could justify making her cry!” Monta stepped back but kept Hiruma pressed to the wall with a jabbing finger hovering just in front of his face. “I can’t forgive you for hurting her, even once!”
Hand itching for a gun that wasn’t there, Hiruma smacked the accusing hand from his face. “Do you have a point or you just screeching, ya fucking monkey.”
But Monta just growled right back and said, “You better be sure you’re done with Mamori-san. Or else you’ll never get her back.”
~*~*~*~
By the end of school the sky had finally opened up and the ocean tore down from the sky. It was too wet even for lightening, but Hiruma still went to the clubhouse for afternoon practice. After all, even if it rained outside they’d hit the gym though he knew no one would be there. Not after the way things ended that morning.
Hiruma stepped through the door and shook the torrent from his hair. It was bright and warm in the clubhouse and Musashi and Kurita sat at the main table sharing a pot of coffee. In general annoyance, Hiruma tossed his jacket and bag off to the corner.
“Oh, goody! Am I to get yet /another/ lecture on blah, blah, blah….” Disinterested in his own smart remark, Hiruma grabbed another mug and the coffeepot. He thought about getting a towel to dry off with, but felt a strange and hollow laziness settling deep in his gut. He hated it. The world suddenly became an ugly place filled with people judging him on something that wasn’t even their business and he hated them. Everyone had to come up and complain about how he did this, or he wasn’t paying attention to that or that he was somehow even more snappish before and he hated that, too. He was, in short, quickly running out of energy to hate.
Kurita, he knew, wouldn’t say anything. Giant and powerful that he was, the butterball couldn’t seem to make a stand off of the football field. That meant he was there for ‘back up’ for Musashi. Like he always was.
Warming his hand around the full cup he eyed Musashi in annoyance. “Well?”
“You know what I’m gonna say.” Musashi said simply.
Hiruma rolled his eyes. “Now that that’s out of the way. What do you want?”
Setting his mug just off to the side, Musashi sat back. “You’re an idiot.”
Eyes narrowing Hiruma warned, “Don’t.”
“You ‘don’t’.” Musashi retorted. “Mainly you don’t get it. She’s crazy for you. She’d do anything for you. She takes your shit for you and you won’t even give her an inch for some stupid little mistake. I know you’re crazy for her, too. I know you want to forgive her but your damn head’s too big. Your pride’s trying to play the victim, except the more you make her hurt, the more you make yourself into the bad guy.”
“She made her choice-“
“She made a /mistake/. She realizes that. You realize that, too, but your too pig headed to forgive her. And, on top of that, you’re letting your personal shit tear the team apart. She’s important to the team and you know it. Every time you drive her away and every time you blatantly tear her apart, you’re just driving everybody away from you.”
“Hiruma.” Both turned to Kurita in surprise. “There’s no point in doing this. You know this. You care for her, you miss her, why are you hurting everyone? What are you trying to prove?”
Unable to come up with any answers, Hiruma turned his gaze onto the table and watched the rain water ripple in his coffee.
“It was so nice when everyone was happy and friendly. We all became such a wonderful team, I was surprised at how close we became.” Kurita continued. “And when you and Mamori were together, it didn’t seem like anything else mattered to either of you. You were always in a good mood, always energetic and pushing everyone else along and we really made strides, then. She changed you somehow. When none of us were looking, she changed a little part of you and now that you’re not together anymore, that part of you is gone, and- and…..”
Musashi patted Kurita’s round shoulders when he stuttered to a stop. “Oi, Hiruma.” He said. “She means a lot to the team. There’s a lot of people that’s threatening to quit if you chase her off. Some of the benchwarmers were talking about walking and you can’t afford to lose anyone. That Monta kid will definitely tap out, Sena, probably, too. Those two you can’t lose, no matter what. And with your mouth flappin’ free like that, you’re lucky that punk kid didn’t take your head off. The ones that don’t quit with Mamori will quit when they get sick of your abuse. You really did yourself over with this one.”
“Do you know what it’s like,” Hiruma said quietly, eyes focusing on something not reflected in his mug, “to feel like you’ve been betrayed? When you got someone you’re… comfortable around, someone you can be with and nothing else matters, and before you know it, they manage to get in deep under your skin. It-It’s like there’s a part of them inside you and they’ve got a part of you in them and then they toss you aside for someone else. It hurts, and all you can think about is hurting them back….” Hiruma ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know what I’m thinking about anymore….”
“You know, the only good thing about mistakes is that most of the time you can still correct them.” Musashi caught Hiruma’s bland look and frowned. “I know you ain’t gonna say it, but you can get that thought of your head right now.”
With a snort, Hiruma looked away. Despite the fact that he knew Musashi was right, and even though he knew he shouldn’t think it, it still felt fundamentally wrong being told that by him. But then, perhaps because it was Musashi, he had every right to tell him that.
Hiruma pulled his mug closer and peered at its quivering surface. His muddied reflection didn’t tell him anything.
~*~*~*~
She was in bed when her father came home. She had been there all day, staring at the wall and thinking of nothing, not feeling the little tears that slid down her face and dried her skin tight and cold. Her first class teacher had sent her to the principal because- for no explained reason -she just started to quietly sob during the lesson. It took a moment for someone to notice she cried so softly, but then everyone saw and everyone knew. Without any other words her teacher had one of the other students take her to the principal and the principal had the student take her home. Mamori's mother saw her out the window, thanked the student and wrapped her daughter up in warmth and comfort and hustled her to bed.
And now her father was home and that knowledge only vaguely made its way into her mind.
"Dear," her mother's voice filtered up, muffled and just barely distinguishable- had she bothered to try to listen. "I'm glad you're home, we need to talk... Oh, excuse me." There was an odd note in her mother's voice. "I didn't know you were bringing a guest home, dear."
"I'm sorry, this was just sudden. I would've called and told you about it but the work..." Her father sighed. "You know how it is."
"Of course...."
"This is Hiroshi. I've talked about him to you before, haven't I?"
"Ah, yes." Her voice was slightly detached. Disapproving, but willing to play nice. "You're an assistant manager to one of the banks that deals with my husband's company, aren't you?"
"Yes, ma'am." Another voice, this one was smooth but light. Like oil in sunshine- pretty to look at for a moment, but something you'd rather not get close to. "I apologize for intruding but-"
Her father bullied his way into the conversation again. "Intruding? Of course you're not, my dear boy! I invited Hiroshi along because he'll be out of the city for a few weeks and I haven't had a chance to properly talk with him since I left."
"Well, if that's the case, I'll go ahead and start dinner. Is there anything in particular you'd like to have, Hiroshi-san?"
"My wife is a most wonderful cook. Perhaps the only one that could cook as well as her is my daughter."
There was a smile in his voice that made his voice seem even oilier. "Anything will be wonderful, thank you."
"Speaking of which." Her father said. "Could you bring Mamori down here? She should help to entertain our guest, after all."
"Dear," there was a sharpness in her voice that said all civility at the moment was for the guest's sake, "I don't think that would be a good idea."
"Nonsense, where is she?"
"She's had a rough day."
"Ah, I see. That punk brat must've been bothering her again."
"Dear-"
"Bring her down, I'll show her what a decent man is like."
"I really don't think-"
"Stay right there, Hiroshi. I'll go and get her." There were heavy footsteps on the stairs. "Mamori!" Her father's bellow cut through the disassociative curtain around her mind. "Mamori, come down! We have a guest!" His command groused her to a waking state, years of conditioning making her body move on its own.
"She needs to rest!"
"She needs to get over him is what she needs."
"I won't let you-"
"Mother." She stood in the doorway, pale and tired and sad- the last light of a dying angel. "It's okay. I'll be fine."
"See?" Her father said, leading the way back down the stairs. "She just needs to stop moping over herself. Come, Mamori. I have someone I want you to meet."
"Mamori-chan." The older woman touched her arm. "Are you sure you're okay? You don't have to-"
"I'm okay." She grabbed her mother's hand and it was like being held by ice. "Maybe... I just need to get over things."
Her jaw hardened and she took her hand away and grabbed both of Mamori's arms. "That's not true and you know it! Don't push yourself like this!"
Mamori pulled herself from the grasp. "It's okay." But deep inside she knew it wasn't.
When she met her father and guest the two were talking in the living room. "Ah, there she is now. My beautiful, wonderful daughter, Mamori. Mamori, this is an associate of mine, Hiroshi."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mamori-san." The guest said and he looked as oily and deeply unappealing as his voice. "Your father had told me that you haven't been feeling to well recently. Something about problems at school?"
Her mother was the first to react. "She doesn't-"
"Darling." Her father cut in a bit too quickly and a bit too roughly. "If you’d bring some coffee for our guest? The rain is a bit chilly." With a final disapproving frown, his wife headed toward the kitchen. Indicating for Mamori to sit on the couch next to Hiroshi, he smiled at them both. "I'm sure you two will get along wonderfully."
It was a set up. She knew this, but it didn't make anything better. Instead she just gave a small little smile in return. The way Hiroshi's eyes twinkled at this didn't help her feelings at all.
"Tell me, Mamori-san." He said with a purr that would've been pleasing if not for the dirty feel it left. "What sorts of troubles are you having? Class work, perhaps?"
Her father answered instead. "She broke up with her 'boyfriend' recently."
"Really? That is a shame." He patted her hand lightly and she tried not to flinch. "I don't see how someone as charming as you could have such problems."
Mamori offered a thin attempt at a smile in return. "Thank you." Her voice was sour and her skin crawled. She didn't know why her father was doing this to her but she REALLY wished he'd stop.
"Tell me, what kind of boy was he?" Hiroshi asked as her mother came out with mugs of coffee. He took his and two sugar packets with a smile. "He must be a crude, stupid child of a man to leave you."
Mamori took her cup from her mother as the latter woman bristled. "Hiruma-kun isn't-"
"DEAR." The three of them turned to her father. "Let it be. Hiruma wasn't a good enough boy for my daughter."
"That's not for you to-"
"He was crude and violent." He sipped his coffee quietly. "I don't need anymore persuasion."
Hiroshi blinked, stirring the sugar in his drink. "Violent? Was he? That would explain it."
Mamori looked over at him in surprise. "Explain what?"
"How he became your boyfriend to begin with." He said matter-of-factly. "Bullied you and threatened you and hurt you whenever you tried to get away from him before he tired of you, was that how it was?"
Mamori looked at the man in with more disgust then surprise. “Hiruma-kun would NEVER hurt me!”
“Really?” He gave her what he must have thought was a soothing smile. “Then why have you been crying?”
Mamori would never call herself a physically strong girl, or particularly violent but Hiroshi was lucky he didn’t get whiplash from the force of her hand against his cheek.
“GET OUT.” Her fists were trembling at her sides and her face was livid with fury.
Hiroshi stammered, still reeling from the blow. “But-But Mamori-“
“GET OUT!” She screamed. “GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!” She threw her mug at him (though it missed and shattered on the floor, the liquid scalded his hand) and fled to her room.
Her mother cried after her, “Mamori-chan!”
“Leave her alone.”
She turned to her husband who was busy picking up the porcelain fragments. “What do you mean?”
He frowned at the pieces almost thoughtfully. “She’s had it too easy until now. She has to learn that everything won’t always go her way.”
But his wife was brimming over with her own righteous anger. “This is your fault!” She cried. “If it weren’t for you, our little girl wouldn’t be hurting like this! What kind of father breaks his own child’s heart? Hiruma-kun is a wonderful boy!”
“ ‘A wonderful boy’?” He snarled right back. “Someone who manipulates others for his own selfish gains and threatens them with weapons is a ‘wonderful boy’?”
“You don’t know! You don’t even care! All you’ve seen was someone getting too close to your precious little baby! Maybe if you didn’t throw the poor boy halfway across the room before you even knew who he was you wouldn’t have messed things up so badly!”
By this time, he was red in the face himself. Hiroshi shrank into the hallway, trying to keep clear of all the free flying anger. “What, you think it’s okay for Mamori to be around someone like him?”
“If Mamori-chan is happy with him, then maybe you should be happy for her!”
“She doesn’t know anything- she’s still too young! Letting her around a boy like that, you’ve both gone insane!”
“Well maybe if you were around more often, you wouldn’t be so out of touch with your only child!”
His thick jaw snapped shut and mind whirled without thoughts. He tried to open it again but the look on his wife’s face DARED him to try. She was a strong willed woman and she had fired that could burn down the strongest of resistances. He knew any attempt made from that point on would be shot down the moment it tried to take off.
Cowed but growling, he roughly grabbed Hiroshi by the arm and sat him on the couch before he went off to look for the first aid kit.
~*~*~*~
“Oi, idiot. You’ll need this!”
In the dark of the storm, his jacket wrapped around his face.
“Don’t screw this up, huh?”
“Good luck!”
Freeing himself he growled back at them, “I hate you both.”
~*~*~*~
It was cold. And dark. And really fucking wet. There had to have been a good reason why he was out here at this minute. There had to have been a good reason why he couldn't wait until later. Like tomorrow. Or when he wasn't going to suffer from hypothermia.
Mamori's house was lit up down the street and he hunched deeper into his jacket.
...Yeah, that was a good enough reason.
When he knocked on the door, Mamori's mother was cleaning up the last of the spill and her father was putting the first aid kit away. Hiroshi, being the closest available person to the door, was asked to see who it was.
He shrieked when the door slammed open in front of him.
A tall, lanky figure took up the doorway, drenched and shivering and tense pants coming out it visible puffs. His eyes gleamed and his lips were fixed in a sharp, toothy frown. It was almost like a devil had come to invade.
"Where is she?" He asked, and his voice was harsh and deep and rasped.
"Wh-Who are you?" Hiroshi stammered. He was an assistant manager and this was just some young punk whose entire purpose was to be commanded by the likes of himself. He could take control of this situation.
But the devil snarled. "None of your damn business. Where. Is. She."
"How rude! You dare to barge in here and make those kinds of demands without even intro-"
"Shut your mouth. You're voice is annoying the piss outta me and if I gotta repeat myself one more damn time there's gonna be trouble."
"You've got some nerve, boy! I've got the right mind to call-"
His throat closed up when he found a magnum shoved against his nose.
“I don’t care who you are.” Hiruma coldly, “I don’t care what you’re doing here. But you are going to shut up and back the fuck off. Right. Now.”
Trying to figure out why he didn’t have the situation under control, Hiroshi cleared his throat. “I really don’t think you-“ he faltered at the click of the safety, “sh-should be threatening-“ words started running for cover when the hammer was pulled back, “er, threatening, um…..” The look in Hiruma’s eyes said he wasn’t joking around. “It’s ver-very d-dangerous to-“
~*~*~*~
Mamori jolted upright on her bed at the sound of gunfire.
~*~*~*~
Mamori’s mother shrieked when Hiroshi collapsed, the first drop of blood bright against the wood of the floor. Her wide eyes were drawn to a tiny rattling sound across the floor, seeking out a little ball bearing as it bumped into the wall. Her lungs were able to breathe at the same time Hiroshi groaned, grabbing his nose. As real as it looked, Hiruma’s magnum was nothing more than an air gun though powered up and at point blank range it managed to give Hiroshi a bloody nose.
Her husband, however, was less than humored at the situation. “Just what do you think you’re doing!?” He roared.
Hiruma snarled at him. “Che! I don’t have time for you.”
No one noticed that Mamori’s mother had fled for the stairs.
~*~*~*~
“Mamori-chan!” Her head swiveled toward the door. “Mamori-chan, open up!”
She crawled over the bed and twisted the doorknob, surprised to find her mother pushing it open all the way. “Mother?”
“Hi-Hiruma-kun!” She panted. “He shot Hiroshi in the face!”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
Another shot was fired into the rain and sky. “Oi!” A voice screamed from the walkway. “Fucking manager! I got somethin’ to say to you!” Two more shots rang out. “Get the fuck down here!”
When Mamori reached the front door Hiruma had turned the muzzle from skyward to her father who stood on the front stoop of the house. “I still got plenty of rounds left and even though they ain’t real, Pops,” his sneer took on the look of a twisted grin at her father’s scowl, “they still hurt like a bitch. You just stand right there with dipshit, all right? This has nothin’ to do with you.”
“It involves my daughter.” Her father’s voice was gruff. “It’s got everything to do with me.”
“Then here’s free advice for the next time you go on another business venture: Call home every once in a while.” Hiruma’s face grew dark and his hand tightened around the pistol grip. “There’s nothin’ worse then having someone ask her how her father’s doing and watchin’ that sad little smile on her face when she doesn’t know. The only reason I’m not pluggin’ yer ass now is just for the fact that you are her father.”
“You’ve got some nerve, coming to my home, threatening us and criticizing the way I’ve raised my daughter-“
“DIDN’T raise her.”
“Shut your-“
“Father!” Both men looked at Mamori, surprised to see her standing there, shivering slightly. Her mother put hands upon her shoulders.
“Mamori-chan,” she whispered, “make the choice you need to make. No matter what, I’ll make sure no one tries to stop you.” She gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. “My brave little girl.”
The first step forward was the hardest, but the second was easier by only slightly. But the next one and the next just got easier and easier and the steps she took toward her father and by him and passed him were done easily and with a small smile on her face. When her feet hit the wet pavement, Mamori wanted to run but the lack of strength in her legs made it almost impossible to stand.
Hiruma’s arm came down slowly, arm hanging like the weapon was weighted with all the stress and frustration and undirected anger that bore down on him for what should’ve been called eternity. When she stepped halfway to him, Hiruma opened his mouth.
“Mamori.”
She stopped at the sound of her name. She had missed his voice and his warmth and his touch and just hearing him acknowledge her again made her want to collapse with joy.
His cheek twitched as he struggled to think through his words, “I want you to know….. I don’t love you.”
The joy and strength in her drained, leaving Mamori’s face pale and looking as if she’d break if the wind blew even faintly. Her lip trembled and her body trembled and the rain felt like ice on her cold skin.
“But,” he said quickly, trying to control the desperate feeling that wanted to take her in his arms and keep her away from everything, “I want to be with you.” Mamori’s eyes widened and she didn’t think her heart could take anymore of….. anything. “I won’t change who I am,” he continued, “but I may be willing to make some exceptions. For your sake.” Hiruma looked vaguely at the ground, knowing he should say more but uncertain about how to say it. Finally, he snarled and waved his gun around in animated ire. “And pull yourself together! You’re distracting the team and that weepy, servile look on your face really pisses me off!”
That broke the heavy chains that had lashed at Mamori’s heart for so long now and she laughed- she had to. “Hiruma-kun!” She ran at him, holding as tightly as she could as if it were the only thing that kept him there. It felt like she was crying, rain warm on her face. And maybe she was, but that wasn’t important. What was important was Hiruma’s smell- fresh and green and sublime- Hiruma’s touch- hard and warm and gentle- and Hiruma’s voice- rough and velvet and filling the empty spot her mind yearned for.
And just because he could, because he had to know for himself and remember for himself (even if he would deny it later) Hiruma wrapped his arms tight around her and let the rest of the world drop away.
Mamori’s mother- having giving Hiroshi the first aid kit and a point to the bathroom -came up to her husband with one umbrella in the crook of her arm, the other flipping a second one open. Putting the open umbrella into his numb hand, she said, “Don’t worry, dear,” her voice was like deadly sweet saccharine as she shook open the other umbrella, “you’ll have time to get used to him. Plenty of time, by the look of things.”
Skipping down the steps, she went over to the teens, holding the umbrella over all of them. She bent briefly to pick up the discarded air gun (because it wouldn’t due to leave something like /that/ out for long) and then coaxed the two back into the warmth of the house.
~*~*~*~
Sena ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t really know what to say, but he knew he had to be there, just as she had always been there for him. He took in a deep breath and-
“Yo, Sena!”
Somehow nearly choked on air. “M-Monta?” He wheezed. “What are you doing here?”
The other boy looked at him almost in surprise. “Seeing how Mamori-san is doing. Aren’t you?”
“Well, yeah, but….” Sena couldn’t help the tiny seed of suspicion inside him.
“Hey, that’s just rude!” Monta poked a thick finger against Sena’s forehead. “I may like her, but I know she needs support now more than anything!”
Sighing, Sena turned back to the house. “If you say so.” Behind him, Monta grinned. After all, there was always /after/ the support….
“Mamori-neechan!” Sena called up. “Hey, Mamori-neechan!”
The window to her bedroom opened up and both boys looked on in shock.
“The hell do you guys want?” Hiruma shouted back down, lazing on the windowsill. “Fucking shrimps.” He added with his customary grin.
“Hi-Hi-Hiruma-san!” Their jaws dropped to their feet, only because the ground kept it from going any further. “What are you doing up there??”
“Seein’ more than you guys are.” Came the easy return. His grin quickly faded, however, when the only sounds coming out of Sena and Monta was about as articulate as a dying lawnmower. “Che. She’s in the shower.” Hiruma enunciated for them slowly. “What do you want?”
As Sena was apparently trying not to have a heart attack, Monta stammered back, “We just wanted to make sure Mamori-san was okay!”
“Yeah, yeah.” Hiruma waved a dismissive hand out the window. “The world’s fucking peachy.”
“Er.” The two looked at each other in confusion. “I guess we’ll…. See you at school?”
“Practice as usual.” He told them. “Tell the rest of the slackers.”
“Right, Hiruma-san!”
He watched them go, a strange twist of a smile on his face before he leaned his head out the window to watch the sky. Hiruma was, to be blunt, happy. Happy with the turn of events, happy with things in the foreseeable future, happy with the world in general.
He was still in that same, happy contemplating position when Mamori came in, one towel wrapped around her head, another around her body.
“Hiruma-kun!” Her startled voice had him craning his neck. Her state of undress had him scrambling for a better view and an appraising look. “What are you doing in here?”
“Felt like it.” He said faintly, memorizing each curve and tucking it deep into his memory so he could bring it out and play with it whenever he got bored. Mamori laughed to herself, certain he didn’t realized the stupid grin plastered across his face.
“How sweet.” She drawled. “But I’d like to change without you ogling me.”
Putting on a hurt face, Hiruma said, “I don’t get a free show?”
“Not yet.”
“ ‘Yet’?” Hiruma’s eyebrows rose and his grin grew. “So I’ll get one eventually?”
The flush from the shower and his hungry eyes made Mamori’s wicked smile all the sultrier. “Maybe later.”
“Later? Like tonight?” A long finger trailed lightly against the soft, wet material of the towel where Mamori’s hip met the thigh.
“Hiruma-kun!” She laughed, smacking his hand away. “Go, I have to change!”
Pouting (which he would also deny doing), Hiruma skulked out of her room. Within ten minutes, Mamori- now fully dressed- opened her bedroom door to find him lounging against the stairway railing. Pulling on the lapels of his jacket, she gave him a soft kiss (because she could) before leading him down the stairs. They said goodbye to her mother and Mamori said goodbye to her father (Hiruma just gave him a smug grin) and, with Mamori’s schoolbag in hand (Hiruma’s was still in the clubhouse), the two stepped out the house towards school.
Mamori stayed a half step behind Hiruma, knowledge that he liked being in the lead still firm in her subconscious. But she couldn’t help but say playfully, “So you don’t love me?”
Hiruma scowled. “Of course not.”
“Not even a little bit?”
“Not at all.”
But she smiled just the same and tugged one of Hiruma’s hands from his jacket pocket and held it in hers. He gave a long-suffering sigh in response, but she laughed and rested her head against his shoulder as they walked. Hiruma gave Mamori the barest of side-glances and tried to resist the warm smile that pulled at his lips. Well, he didn’t try very hard.
The best thing about people, after all, was the ability to change their minds.
Fandom: Eyeshield 21
Rating: PG-13 for swearing
Word Count: 48,810
Characters: Primarily Hiruma and Mamori, other manga and original characters also
Summary: Non-canon. They’ve been in a relationship for some time. A new variable tosses everything for a loop.
It’s been nearly a year since he’d been back home. Being the second in charge of an entire conglomerate meant he was just less important enough to have to observe over each new branch store that opened up. There had been five new shops in the passed three years all across Japan and he’d stayed with each store for a few months to make certain they’d thrive well.
One up in Hokkaido, however, had had some problems. It took some direct intervention on his part as well as the better part of the year to save the shop, but it was now flourishing nicely. Nice of them to reward him with a months vacation to spend with the family in return.
He hadn’t called them to let them know he’d be back, but that was fine. He smiled as the train slowed to his station. They’d be so surprised.
~*~*~*~
Mamori was lying on her stomach on the couch, preparing for her biology test the next morning when Hiruma came in. She looked up when he sat on the arm of the couch, the second joint of his index finger in his mouth.
“What’s wrong?” She asked.
“Your mom chased me outta the kitchen.” He said. Mamori wasn’t certain why he seemed perplexed. Was it because her mother banned him from a room? Or because-
She hid a smile. “Is that all?”
“When I say ‘chased’ I mean ‘threatened’. Well, more like she attacked me until I left. Your mom’s wicked with a spoon.” Hiruma told her, idly sucking on his sore finger.
“It’s when she pulls out her special spatula that you need to worry.”
“The big metal one with the surface as big as my palm? Yeah, she was goin’ for it when I thought it best if I left.”
Mamori shook her head. “What were you doing?”
“I got bored. Dinner smelled good. So I decided to give it a try.”
“We’re having stew for dinner.”
“I know.”
“Do you even know where anything in the kitchen is?”
“Nope.”
She tried to keep the smile off her face, she really did. “Were there any extra spoons around?”
“Nope.”
“So you were going to sneak a taste of stew with your finger? And you’re surprised she only ‘chased’ you out?”
“Nah. I’m surprised how fast she is. She’s got radar or somethin’, I didn’t even make a sound!”
Mamori stuffed a hand against her mouth to stave off any laughter. Hiruma gave her a frown. “Oh, that’s really assuring. Laugh at my plight.”
Reaching out, Mamori grabbed his injured hand and gave the knuckle a little kiss. “Better?” She asked.
“What, that it?”
“What else am I supposed to do?”
“Pop it in your mouth and suck?”
“Hiruma-kun!”
“What?”
Shaking her head, Mamori moved to one side, letting Hiruma slid full length between her and the back of the couch.
“What’re you studyin’?” He asked against her hair.
“Biology. Tuesdays are always ‘pop quiz’ days. You’d think he’d learn to change his routine sometime.”
“But then it wouldn’t be easy for the people who pay attention.” He said, burying his nose against her hair. While Hiruma would deny any existence of anything resembling a romantic bone or bone fragment in his body, Mamori knew he loved the scent of her shampoo. She lost count, long ago, of how many days or hours he’d spend holding her close, buried in the scent.
She giggled and gave Hiruma a half-hearted shove. “Hiruma-kun, I really need to be studying.” But she turned onto her back, hand against his chest as he settled over her. He grinned, pulling her other hand away from her book and kissed her and then kissed her again and again. Mamori skritched a nail over the fine bones of his ear and giggled again when he let out something halfway between a purr and a ticklish laugh.
“Hiruma-kun?” She asked quietly. “Hiruma-KUN.” She made a face and squirmed a bit as his hand trailed up her thigh.
“Hm?” But she knew he wasn’t paying attention. Mamori knew well enough that while he wouldn’t actually /do/ anything, he just had this thing about touching her. He’d stop when he knew she really wanted him to stop (not like she minded most of the time, anyway), but despite how long they’ve gone out, Mamori would rather not run the risk of her mother walking in at a time like this.
“Can you keep your hands a little higher than that?”
A thin eyebrow rose up. “You want me higher?” He teased.
Mamori rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean, Hiruma-“ Something loomed over the two, grabbed Hiruma by the back of the collar and jerked him backward so fast he barely had the chance to choke. “HIRUMA-KUN!?”
Flailing, Hiruma hit the side of the coffee table, knocking it a good half foot from its original position and spilling Mamori’s notes to the floor. The fall must’ve knocked the wind out of him because the second the he got his breath back he fairly exploded with curses.
Whoever it was holding him by the collar gave him another harsh jerk that left Hiruma spluttering and coughing. “Shut your disgusting mouth!” The person- a man, at least middle aged by the sound of the voice -spat. Mamori’s eyes widened.
“Who the fuck-“ Hiruma got cut off with another jerk.
“That means watch your language, /boy/.” The man hissed.
Something heavy and commanding pressed against the man’s leg and a voice growled out in the carefully measured way of someone one straw short of snapping: “If you want the continued existence of both your kneecaps, then get your fucking paw off of me.”
The man narrowed his eyes, but before he could retaliate, Mamori had pulled his hand away from Hiruma’s collar. “Father!” Her voice almost squeaked in surprise, shock, and maybe a little embarrassment. “You-You’re home!”
Standing up, Hiruma looked at the man like his very existence left a bad taste in his mouth. “/This/ is your father?”
He growled back in response. “And who the hell are you?”
Hiruma bristled at the superior tone while Mamori interceded. “Th-This is Hiruma Youichi. He’s my, um, boyfriend.”
“ ‘Boy friend’?” That tone would’ve shoved Hiruma’s A9 down the man’s throat if Mamori weren’t holding his arm like someone’s life depended on it.
At that moment, attempting to break the tension with a warm, forced smile and good food, Mamori’s mother came in, “Come, come!” She said. “Let’s all eat!” Mamori, hoping dinner would- if not dissolve -stave off any impending explosions, helped to herd the two scowling men toward the table.
Her mother, trying to cover up the tension with chatter, said, “Dear, I’m so surprised you’re home! Why didn’t you call us and let us know? I would’ve made something better than just stew!” She led her husband to the seat at the head of the table, putting his place settings before him. “How was work, dear? You were in the Nagano area, weren’t you?”
“Hokkaido.” The man said simply. Hiruma snorted. “/What/?” Came the derisive sneer.
“Nothin’.” The blonde replied, giving a curt nod as Mamori filled his bowl. “Just amused at the fact that your family didn’t even know where you were.”
Mamori gave him a strained look. “Hiruma-kun.”
But he just gave her that dark grin that was his trademark and said, “Just making conversation.”
Her father didn’t find the humor in it, though. “Oh? And what about you?” He asked with a frown. “What do you do?”
Mamori cut in, noticing the little warning signs in Hiruma’s manner and expression that meant this meal was going to go downhill very quickly. “Hiruma-kun’s the captain of the school’s football team.”
“Really? They really allow such an ill-mannered punk into sports clubs now? This school has gotten worse in the years.” The man retorted, calmly taking his spoon to the stew.
“Father-“
But Hiruma just cut right back in. “Naw, this school ain’t that great. But that’s why you need guys to shake things up.”
“With the active use of firearms, I suppose?” His voice was like ice.
“By any means necessary. I’m sure a man like you would understand that.”
The two glared at each other from across the table and Mamori’s father placed his spoon down with more force than necessary. “And what does that mean?”
“You’ve been gone for almost a year.” Hiruma tapped a long finger on the table. Any trace of humor was gone from his smirk, just making it sharp and merciless. “Must take some work to keep afloat at that rate.”
“Are you implying I don’t do my job well?”
“The one at work or the one at home?”
The older man’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You think I’m neglecting my family.”
“I’m just sayin’ what I know.”
“You’re a high school student trying to criticize a hard working man. Apparently you don’t know a lot- if anything.”
This time all pretense of friendliness fell from Hiruma’s face. “Know enough that you keep this up you’re lucky if you have a company at all.“
“Are you threatening me? What can a little /boy/ like you do?”
“I could have you on your knees begging in 48 hours.”
The man puffed up, his face turning red. “Threatening, violent, uneducated- to think that my only daughter would have fallen so low as to enjoy /your/ company.”
Mamori paled and Hiruma nearly rose from his seat. “What did you say?” He growled lowly, words rumbling across the table.
Mamori’s mother put a hand on her husband’s arm. “Dear, maybe we should-“
But she was ignored as the man growled back, “You must have forced her into this relationship. My daughter is smarter than that, she could have anyone she wants. You’re just going to use her and dirty her and throw her away where you can laugh at her like all the others you’ve used. I know your type and you should be glad I haven’t called the police on you, yet.”
The muscles in Hiruma’s snarl twitched as he tried- best he could -to restrain himself. “You’re fuckin’ disgusting, old man.” Mamori’s father scowled, face growing redder and redder with every venomous word cut from Hiruma’s sharp tongue. “Thinkin’ so little of your own kid. You think she’s too weak to make her own decisions? Or do you just think that she’s a whore? You can bitch and complain all you want, but any ‘faults’ you have with her and her decisions is because you’re never around for her. Think you’re so fuckin’ high and mighty. You ignore everything around you and then whine that it ain’t goin’ your way. You’re the type of guy I want to spit on. It’s a good thing you never /are/ around. I’d hate to imagine what sort of short-sighted bitch Mamori would’ve turned out to be-“
*BAM!*
The table rattled and the dishes threatened to tip over. It took Mamori a moment to realize that she was on her feet, hands slammed against the tabletop. “Hiruma-kun!” He looked up at her, more than slightly surprised. Words came out of her mouth that she barely even heard. “That’s enough!”
“Enough?” Now he seemed more puzzled. “Enough of what?”
“You can’t say those sorts of things!”
That just made him angry. “What sort of things? What am I suddenly not allowed to say?”
That was their fundamental difference: Mamori grew up learning all sorts of mannerisms and courtesies from her mother. Hiruma grew up learning the only time to use restraint was when it was required to get ahead. He didn’t mince his words, he didn’t give mercy to anyone. If it needed to be said, he would say it, with no holds bared. And that difference- and both of their stubbornness -lead to both of their downfalls.
“So because he’s your father, I shouldn’t defend myself, is that it?” Hiruma continued. “Or /you/?”
“Because he’s my father you should treat him with respect!”
The moment those words left Mamori’s lips, Hiruma’s face closed up and Mamori prayed this was just a nightmare. She knew better. No one told Hiruma what he could and couldn’t do. And on top of that, she knew that respect was /never/ just given, least of all by Hiruma. To try to force respect out of Hiruma- to try to tell Hiruma to do anything –was a sure way to get on the top of his shit list.
And she just crossed both lines in one go.
Shoving his chair away from the table, Hiruma said, “Anezaki-san, it was a wonderful dinner. Even if the company wasn’t.”
The older woman hissed at her daughter, “Mamori-chan!” but the girl was already chasing after Hiruma’s back.
“Hiruma-kun!” She caught up with him as he slipped on his shoes. “Hiruma-kun, where are you going?”
“If I ain’t wanted here, why the hell should I stick around?” He growled to her. “You made your feelings clear, so I’m leaving.”
“But- Hiruma-kun!”
“You picked your side.” He growled, eyes cold and unrelenting. “Don’t go backtracking now.” Sweeping up his jacket in one hand and schoolbag in the other, he turned to the door. “We got practice tomorrow morning.” Mamori felt her heart contract at the flat tone in his voice. “Don’t be late. Fucking manager.”
Mamori couldn’t even wait for the door to fully shut between them before she fell to her knees and cried.
~*~*~*~
Mamori sat at her desk at school. It was, apparently, one of those kinds of weeks where one day spun into the next when no one was looking. She felt numb inside, had felt numb since Hiruma walked away from her. Even the simple act of scratching notes into her notebooks seemed unreal.
It was almost as if she had stepped out of her body, watching as it smiled and greeted her friends, as it did her schoolwork. And she was trapped somewhere far away, wrapped in a soft, thick cloud that barred any sensation or emotion from reaching her.
She couldn’t stand that feeling.
She forced a smile during practice. She forced herself to be energetic at school. She forced herself to be some many things to make that empty feeling go away that she didn’t have the strength to keep smiling at the end of the day.
The only thing that cut through that sensationless fog was the one time Hiruma looked at her all day. When he looked at as though she were his enemy. As though she had betrayed him. That sneer, piercing and frightening, cut through her and froze her lungs and all she felt then was pain and despair.
She couldn’t live with that. She couldn’t just let things end like this.
It was during after school practice that she had the chance to make things right again. After all, he wasn’t the one that had done anything wrong, it was Mamori’s fault. Perhaps he just wanted an apology, perhaps he was waiting for her to make the first move.
And even if he wasn’t, well…. Wasn’t it best to know? After all, what could be worse then feeling nothing?
Mamori pushed open the door, knowing everyone else was already on the field, and saw the man in question lacing up his cleats. There was something about being alone in the locker room that seemed to take the harsh edge off of Hiruma’s face. The dim lighting broke off and filtered over his high cheeks and the thick spikes of his hair. With his long ears and sharp features, sitting, wrapped up in that gray silence, he seemed almost unreal.
At that moment, Mamori didn’t think she needed anything- to breathe, to live -as much as she needed Hiruma.
He stood suddenly, a graceful line like the swell of a wave, grabbing his helmet by the facemask as he went. Mamori’s mouth opened before she was even certain what words were hidden in there. “Ne, Hiruma-kun.” He turned to look at her, but Mamori couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, but I want you to know that I didn’t mean to say that- to hurt you….”
Hiruma turned to her fully, long arms crossed over his jersey and she could still remember how it smelled and felt and how his eyes gleamed, watching her move around in something that solely belonged to him. It made her voice thick and each word had to be forced out.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen. I really…. I think I love you, Hiruma-kun.”
Words shouldn’t have so much power. It’s so easy to change the meaning of words, always flighty and inconsistent, so logically they /shouldn’t/ have so much power. But they /did/ and Hiruma knew that. That was why he was careful with what he said. Words were what gave him control. But he still didn’t expect the crash of so many different emotions to fall through him, or the screams of so many thoughts that wanted to be said.
But pride was just as powerful and, even if he didn’t know what it was protecting anymore, it made him turn away. “Get to the field.” His voice could’ve frozen stars and cracked that numbness that surrounded Mamori. “Yer wasting enough time as it is.”
~*~*~*~
Sena had noticed something odd about Mamori all day. Especially during the afternoon practice when she came out looking pale and unfocused. He had tried to talk to her on their walk home but she just gave him a bad attempt at a smile and said things were fine. He had called her right after dinner, hoping time would make her more receptive to him. “Ne, Mamori-neechan. Are you sure you’re okay?”
He heard that bad attempt to smile again over the phone. “/I’m okay, Sena-kun. Really./”
“You don’t seem like it.”
“/It’s just…. I’m just going through a hard time right now. That’s all./”
“I want to help you.”
“/That’s kind of you, but I don’t think you can./”
“Please!” He pleaded into the receiver. “Let me help anyway I can! Mamori-neechan’s always helping me and protecting me- I want to be able to help you, even once!”
Somehow, the force and purity of Sena’s emotions made her want to cry again. “/Sena-kun… I wish there was a way you could help me./” She put a hand to her mouth when an unintentional gasp broke through. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She didn’t want to be numb, but she didn’t want /this/. This sudden pain that was grinding at her mind, something that ripped her insides apart and made her hands and voice shake. “/I wish you could keep it from hurting this much but you can’t, you just… Just can’t- I’m sorry, Sena-kun./”
There was another sob on the line. “Mamori-“ And then the beeping of a cut-off line. “-neechan…”
Sena looked at his phone and frowned.
~*~*~*~
He had hoped that walking with Mamori-neechan to school would give him the opportunity to help her out with whatever was wrong. He knew it had something to do with Hiruma-san (he was the only one that could get Mamori-neechan so worked up) but he didn’t know how to approach it. Trying to get on a topic about Hiruma was like flipping a coin. You didn’t know what was a comfortable topic and what wasn’t. Sometimes she’d talk on about his bad habits or what annoying things he did that day. And then sometimes she’d look away with a wonderful smile- or maybe even a little blush –and say that things are fine.
But because he trusted Mamori, Sena never pressed. But this time, this time he wouldn’t let her off with an ‘everything is okay’.
Deep in thought, he didn’t realize someone was already waiting at the front of Mamori’s home. “Ah, Sena-kun.”
The boy froze in mid-step. “A-Anezaki-san? When did you get back?”
Mamori’s father leaned against the fence. “A few days ago. Are you here for Mamori?”
“Y-Yes, sir.” And suddenly, Sena understood everything.
But he grinned. “No need for that, Sena-kun, my boy. I still think of you as a son, you know that.” He clapped a heavy hand on Sena’s shoulder. “Mamori really needs friends like you right now.” He regarded Sena slowly. “But you know this Hiruma, don’t you? What’s he like?”
Because it was hard for him to be anything else, Sena was truthful. “Honestly, he’s the scariest guy in school. Everyone’s afraid of him.” He laughed nervously. “He blackmails and threatens people, he’s got the local gangs under his thumb. Whenever he gets mad, he’s always shooting at us- er, the um, the team.” Sena hung his head. “And he makes his dog to chase me, I think that’s the worst.”
Mamori’s father frowned. “To think my daughter would like that sort of person. I have been gone for too long.”
But he felt Sena straighten under his hand and his shoulders pull back and he realized that Sena was no longer that skinny little boy whose knees he used to bandage up. High school had changed him, apparently, he was strong, capable and that determined, almost fearless look in his eyes uprooted the previous years of apprehension and was growing strong.
“Hiruma-san isn’t just like that.” And his voice held just as much conviction as his eyes. “Hiruma-san is kind in his own way. He’s given a lot of people a purpose and a direction and strength and even if it doesn’t seem like it, he wants the best for his team and the people he cares about. He and Mamori-neechan may argue on occasions, but to Mamori-neechan does it for my sake. He’s never done anything wrong to her and she wouldn’t have let him, anyway.”
The man took his hand from Sena’s shoulder and while the boy had fire, the man had experience. Even if it was just experience in hearing only what he wanted to hear.
“It’s good to see you again, Sena-kun.” He said gruffly. “I’ll see if Mamori’s ready yet for you.”
~*~*~*~
What Sena like best about Mamori was the way he always felt comfortable around her. Even with a secret as large between them as Eyeshield, being with her was relaxing.
But he knew that she was unwell. He could see it in the way she held her head and how her eyes were dark. He felt it in the way she walked next to him and saw it in her hands wrapped about her bag. She was depressed, she was tense, she was crying inside and Sena didn’t know what to do about it.
He knew the problem: Hiruma. Except, despite earlier belief, it wasn’t just about Hiruma. It was also about her father. Sena knew that he tended to be overly protective of Mamori whenever he was around. Whenever he’d find out that Mamori had chased bullies away for Sena, he’d always berate her, saying how she could’ve gotten hurt and should’ve gotten an adult instead.
Her father was the only person that ever protected her so completely, the only one that ever really pushed her to succeed to her fullest. Her mother and Sena would encourage her best, but they were always happy in whatever Mamori chose. Because of that, Mamori thought the world of her father- even if only recently she began to resent his absent presence –and she could never allow anyone to speak badly about him.
Because of that, Sena didn’t know what to say. Each line he thought up felt just as abrasive and crude as the next. In this situation he knew instinctively he had to be gentle, if he said the wrong thing it felt like Mamori would break- and that made him want to break.
Mamori wasn’t weak. He was more likely to fall apart before she was. Sena didn’t like the new Mamori.
Down the street they walked in silence. Through the school gates, together and quiet, to the field and to the clubhouse. Inside they parted without words to their routines for practice. The silence prevailed in the lockers and even the morning roughhousing and joking were muted. Sena didn’t know if they felt the same wrongness he did or if maybe his preoccupation turned everything else into cotton.
The team filtered out onto the field and the morning was gray and oppressive. A storm was coming, but it felt more like a reflection of what was going through Sena’s mind. Before they hit the field, however, Sena forced his courage tight and stopped next to Mamori.
“Mamori-nee-, er, Mamori-san.” He winced inwardly at his near slip up. When she looked at him with her sad, dark eyes, he nearly lost his nerve. But, swelling his chest outward, he said, “Please be happy!” and turned tail and ran.
He failed to see the breaking smile that failed to stay on her face.
She knew that he was only trying to help, but each encouragement given made Mamori want to cry that much more. She hated herself at that moment. She hated what Hiruma had done to her, but she hated herself more. Because she let herself fall so hard, she made the mistake that drove him away and she couldn’t keep herself from slipping so badly.
Mamori sat upon her bench, a stopwatch in hand and clipboard on her lap, watching sightlessly as the team moving around her. The entire day could’ve passed at that moment and she wouldn’t have notice, but someone yelped on the field and the commotion caught everyone’s attention.
“What the fuck is this?” Hiruma kicked an orange cone that littered the near end zone, several of them were already knocked over from where Ishimaru and Yukimitsu got tangled up in them. “Oi, fucking manager! Why the hell are these damn cones still here? You were suppose to clear them up after our sprints!”
Mamori jumped, fumbling with the stopwatch and clipboard. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t, I mean I forgot to-“
He narrowed his eyes at her until her words jumbled to a halt. The rest of the team seemed to simultaneously move in and step back. “Are you trying to sabotage my team?” Hiruma asked, his voice a rumbling threat.
“N-No.”
“Hey, Hiruma.” Ishimaru said, climbing up to his feet. “It’s okay, we’re fine. Right, Yukimitsu?” The lanky boy nodded frantically. “We’re good, no harm done.”
But his words were blocked out as Hiruma marched over to where Mamori stood, just short of cowering under his viscous gaze. Stopping a mere foot away, he wrenched the clipboard out of her hands. Mamori managed a short gasp and the stopwatch fell to the floor. Hiruma glared at the clipboard, then at her.
“What the fuck is this?” He repeated quietly. Mamori looked away. Her posture, her attitude, the very look on her face made him explode. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!” He cleaved the clipboard to the ground, unmarked papers flying around them. “You were supposed to be keeping track of times and you haven’t done a goddamn thing! What the hell were you thinking about? You’ve got a job to do, fucking manager, so how about paying attention!?”
Mamori clenched her hands together. “I’m sorry…”
God, he couldn’t stand that fucking expression. “You know what, just leave.” She looked up at him sharply. “If yer just gonna sit on your ass being useless then get the hell off my field. I’ve got better things to do than deal with your fuck-ups.”
Mamori’s throat closed up and she couldn’t lift her head, she couldn’t speak. Legs trembling so badly she couldn’t walk straight, she stood and slowly made her way off the field. Mamori hiccuped, trying to hold back her tears, but when they spilled over, all she knew was that she had to get out of there.
She ran into the clubhouse out of habit, barely even realizing that she ran into someone until heavy hands guided her to a chair.
“Hey, hey.” A rumbling said and Mamori tried to see who they were between the tears and gasps. “What’s wrong?”
“Mu-Musashi-san.” She put a hand to her face, trying to stave off more tears. “I’m sorry.”
He just waved it off. “Forget it. What’s the matter?”
“I’m sorry. I’m…. I’m just an idiot.”
Musashi held back a sigh. This would probably take a while. “With you so broken up, this either has something to do with that little guy, Sena, or Hiruma.” Cupping his chin, he continued, “And since this is the first place you came, most likely it was Hiruma.”
Wiping her eyes, Mamori asked, “How did you know?”
“Because this place most resembles him. When people get hurt they tend to gravitate to a place or a thing that reflects that person.” He huffed. “What did he do?”
But Mamori shook her head. “It’s not-not his fault. Not really.” Musashi would’ve said something about that, but decided it was more important to leave her on her own. “I’m just so stupid. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t /mean/ to, not really. But everything was just getting so confusing and I didn’t know what to do and-“ she choked off a sob, “I wish I never said anything….”
Fishing into a pocket, Musashi brought out a handkerchief. Clean though it was, there were stains permanently imbedded in the fabric. She didn’t pay them any heed as she attempted to dry her cheeks.
Sniffling, Mamori continued. “I wanted to apologize- I’ve wanted to for the passed few days! But Hiruma-kun won’t listen. And everything he says suddenly hurts just so much….. It’s painful being without him, but every time I try to apologize, every time he just /looks/ at me like that-“ Her words twined with another rising sob. “I don’t know what to do! Hiruma-kun….!”
With a shake of his head, Musashi pulled Mamori against his shoulder and patted her back as she cried. Frown set on his face, he muttered to himself, “That idiot.”
~*~*~*~
Hiruma very nearly literally burned up the field during the rest of the morning practice. Any little mistake he gave out a full ass chewing, any slip-ups or attempts to rest were met with threats and his trigger fingers found any excuse to fire.
He set a lot of people on edge on his good days, he got a lot of people bristling on normal days. But now, Hiruma didn’t seem to be thinking straight. His words were vipers- poisonous and deadly and just as likely to backfire as anything else.
“What kind of blocking was that!?” Hiruma roared, throwing his helmet at the linemen. “Why the fuck do I even bother keeping you guy around- fucking no-talent little shits!”
A badly aimed kick sent Hiruma’s helmet bouncing to his far right. “What did you just say?” Juumonji spat. “What the fuck did you just call us?”
“You heard! You and your worthless bastard buddies are this close to seriously pissing me off!” The team watched in horror and found themselves unable to keep themselves from gathering around the fight.
Juumonji made a dive for Hiruma, but hands pulled at the back of his jersey and at his arms, leaving him digging treads into the grass. “Hey you fucker! You’re the one that forced us on your sorry ass team to begin with!” There had to have been at least three people holding him- he elbowed someone in the head but barely realized it. The sky was darkening overhead and the air became oppressive. Some where a thunder began to brew. “Just because you fucked up with your girl doesn’t mean we’re gonna take your bullshit!”
Hiruma’s eyes narrowed. “What was that?” The rest of the team took a collective step back.
“You heard.” Juumonji sneered, mocking Hiruma’s own words. “You drove off the one good thing that ever happened to you and you want /us/ to deal with your anger at being such a fucking moron! WELL IT DOESN’T WORK THAT WAY. Be a dipshit on your own damn time! I got better things to do than take your crap, if it’s got you so worked up then why don’t you just take your head out your ass and fucking apologize to her!”
“That’s none of your business!”
“You tear into my buddies for no damn reason, that /makes/ it my business!”
Snarling, Hiruma surged forward, but an arm was already looped over his chest and two more around his waist. He didn’t know when they got there or whom they belonged to, but he gnashed his teeth together in defiance. “Get the fuck off my field!”
Kurita tried to move in between them. “Ne, Hiruma-“
He swept back with an arm, knocking loose whoever was holding him. “I said get off my field! Everyone, GET THE FUCK OFF!”
The team bolted as Hiruma bellowed at them. There was a clicking sound in his ears and Hiruma realized that he held a now empty rifle in his hand, the field filled with smoke, gun shells and pocked up grass. He dropped the weapon to the ground and staggered back slightly. Breath coming out in heaves, Hiruma made his way to the basket filled with footballs, his fingers slipping on the oblong shape as his shaking hands tried to pick one up. He threw it and watch it land eight yards too short and ten to the right. He cursed and picked up the next one. That one also flew well off target. Cursing again, Hiruma picked up the next. And the next. And the next. The more Hiruma threw, the worse each throw became and the more control was slipping from his grasp.
In a fit of anger and frustration, Hiruma tossed the whole damn case down the field. It took him ten minutes sitting on the sideline to stop his hands from shaking.
By the time he had regathered the scattered footballs, people were starting to filter into the school. Wheeling the cart to the clubhouse, Hiruma found Monta- in school uniform -waiting outside the doors. His arms were crossed and large eyebrows lowered.
Kicking open the door and tossing the cart somewhere inside the room, Hiruma made his way to the lockers. “I’m not in the fucking mood so say your piece and get the fuck outta my face.”
But the look on Monta’s face said he wasn’t going to be passed over as easily as that. “You’ve got nerve! I don’t care who you think you are, no one makes Mamori-san cry!”
“And what?”
It probably shouldn’t have been a surprise; Monta was a very fiery tempered, rather confrontational kind of guy. But never would Hiruma have imagined he- or anyone else on the team -would dare to lay a hand on him, let alone slam him into a wall.
“I don’t get what Mamori-san sees in you- I never did!” The shorter boy yelled, his large knuckles painfully pressed against Hiruma’s breastbone. “But I stepped back because she liked you. I never would’ve done anything to get in the way of Mamori-san’s happiness, but nothing- absolutely /nothing/! -could justify making her cry!” Monta stepped back but kept Hiruma pressed to the wall with a jabbing finger hovering just in front of his face. “I can’t forgive you for hurting her, even once!”
Hand itching for a gun that wasn’t there, Hiruma smacked the accusing hand from his face. “Do you have a point or you just screeching, ya fucking monkey.”
But Monta just growled right back and said, “You better be sure you’re done with Mamori-san. Or else you’ll never get her back.”
~*~*~*~
By the end of school the sky had finally opened up and the ocean tore down from the sky. It was too wet even for lightening, but Hiruma still went to the clubhouse for afternoon practice. After all, even if it rained outside they’d hit the gym though he knew no one would be there. Not after the way things ended that morning.
Hiruma stepped through the door and shook the torrent from his hair. It was bright and warm in the clubhouse and Musashi and Kurita sat at the main table sharing a pot of coffee. In general annoyance, Hiruma tossed his jacket and bag off to the corner.
“Oh, goody! Am I to get yet /another/ lecture on blah, blah, blah….” Disinterested in his own smart remark, Hiruma grabbed another mug and the coffeepot. He thought about getting a towel to dry off with, but felt a strange and hollow laziness settling deep in his gut. He hated it. The world suddenly became an ugly place filled with people judging him on something that wasn’t even their business and he hated them. Everyone had to come up and complain about how he did this, or he wasn’t paying attention to that or that he was somehow even more snappish before and he hated that, too. He was, in short, quickly running out of energy to hate.
Kurita, he knew, wouldn’t say anything. Giant and powerful that he was, the butterball couldn’t seem to make a stand off of the football field. That meant he was there for ‘back up’ for Musashi. Like he always was.
Warming his hand around the full cup he eyed Musashi in annoyance. “Well?”
“You know what I’m gonna say.” Musashi said simply.
Hiruma rolled his eyes. “Now that that’s out of the way. What do you want?”
Setting his mug just off to the side, Musashi sat back. “You’re an idiot.”
Eyes narrowing Hiruma warned, “Don’t.”
“You ‘don’t’.” Musashi retorted. “Mainly you don’t get it. She’s crazy for you. She’d do anything for you. She takes your shit for you and you won’t even give her an inch for some stupid little mistake. I know you’re crazy for her, too. I know you want to forgive her but your damn head’s too big. Your pride’s trying to play the victim, except the more you make her hurt, the more you make yourself into the bad guy.”
“She made her choice-“
“She made a /mistake/. She realizes that. You realize that, too, but your too pig headed to forgive her. And, on top of that, you’re letting your personal shit tear the team apart. She’s important to the team and you know it. Every time you drive her away and every time you blatantly tear her apart, you’re just driving everybody away from you.”
“Hiruma.” Both turned to Kurita in surprise. “There’s no point in doing this. You know this. You care for her, you miss her, why are you hurting everyone? What are you trying to prove?”
Unable to come up with any answers, Hiruma turned his gaze onto the table and watched the rain water ripple in his coffee.
“It was so nice when everyone was happy and friendly. We all became such a wonderful team, I was surprised at how close we became.” Kurita continued. “And when you and Mamori were together, it didn’t seem like anything else mattered to either of you. You were always in a good mood, always energetic and pushing everyone else along and we really made strides, then. She changed you somehow. When none of us were looking, she changed a little part of you and now that you’re not together anymore, that part of you is gone, and- and…..”
Musashi patted Kurita’s round shoulders when he stuttered to a stop. “Oi, Hiruma.” He said. “She means a lot to the team. There’s a lot of people that’s threatening to quit if you chase her off. Some of the benchwarmers were talking about walking and you can’t afford to lose anyone. That Monta kid will definitely tap out, Sena, probably, too. Those two you can’t lose, no matter what. And with your mouth flappin’ free like that, you’re lucky that punk kid didn’t take your head off. The ones that don’t quit with Mamori will quit when they get sick of your abuse. You really did yourself over with this one.”
“Do you know what it’s like,” Hiruma said quietly, eyes focusing on something not reflected in his mug, “to feel like you’ve been betrayed? When you got someone you’re… comfortable around, someone you can be with and nothing else matters, and before you know it, they manage to get in deep under your skin. It-It’s like there’s a part of them inside you and they’ve got a part of you in them and then they toss you aside for someone else. It hurts, and all you can think about is hurting them back….” Hiruma ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know what I’m thinking about anymore….”
“You know, the only good thing about mistakes is that most of the time you can still correct them.” Musashi caught Hiruma’s bland look and frowned. “I know you ain’t gonna say it, but you can get that thought of your head right now.”
With a snort, Hiruma looked away. Despite the fact that he knew Musashi was right, and even though he knew he shouldn’t think it, it still felt fundamentally wrong being told that by him. But then, perhaps because it was Musashi, he had every right to tell him that.
Hiruma pulled his mug closer and peered at its quivering surface. His muddied reflection didn’t tell him anything.
~*~*~*~
She was in bed when her father came home. She had been there all day, staring at the wall and thinking of nothing, not feeling the little tears that slid down her face and dried her skin tight and cold. Her first class teacher had sent her to the principal because- for no explained reason -she just started to quietly sob during the lesson. It took a moment for someone to notice she cried so softly, but then everyone saw and everyone knew. Without any other words her teacher had one of the other students take her to the principal and the principal had the student take her home. Mamori's mother saw her out the window, thanked the student and wrapped her daughter up in warmth and comfort and hustled her to bed.
And now her father was home and that knowledge only vaguely made its way into her mind.
"Dear," her mother's voice filtered up, muffled and just barely distinguishable- had she bothered to try to listen. "I'm glad you're home, we need to talk... Oh, excuse me." There was an odd note in her mother's voice. "I didn't know you were bringing a guest home, dear."
"I'm sorry, this was just sudden. I would've called and told you about it but the work..." Her father sighed. "You know how it is."
"Of course...."
"This is Hiroshi. I've talked about him to you before, haven't I?"
"Ah, yes." Her voice was slightly detached. Disapproving, but willing to play nice. "You're an assistant manager to one of the banks that deals with my husband's company, aren't you?"
"Yes, ma'am." Another voice, this one was smooth but light. Like oil in sunshine- pretty to look at for a moment, but something you'd rather not get close to. "I apologize for intruding but-"
Her father bullied his way into the conversation again. "Intruding? Of course you're not, my dear boy! I invited Hiroshi along because he'll be out of the city for a few weeks and I haven't had a chance to properly talk with him since I left."
"Well, if that's the case, I'll go ahead and start dinner. Is there anything in particular you'd like to have, Hiroshi-san?"
"My wife is a most wonderful cook. Perhaps the only one that could cook as well as her is my daughter."
There was a smile in his voice that made his voice seem even oilier. "Anything will be wonderful, thank you."
"Speaking of which." Her father said. "Could you bring Mamori down here? She should help to entertain our guest, after all."
"Dear," there was a sharpness in her voice that said all civility at the moment was for the guest's sake, "I don't think that would be a good idea."
"Nonsense, where is she?"
"She's had a rough day."
"Ah, I see. That punk brat must've been bothering her again."
"Dear-"
"Bring her down, I'll show her what a decent man is like."
"I really don't think-"
"Stay right there, Hiroshi. I'll go and get her." There were heavy footsteps on the stairs. "Mamori!" Her father's bellow cut through the disassociative curtain around her mind. "Mamori, come down! We have a guest!" His command groused her to a waking state, years of conditioning making her body move on its own.
"She needs to rest!"
"She needs to get over him is what she needs."
"I won't let you-"
"Mother." She stood in the doorway, pale and tired and sad- the last light of a dying angel. "It's okay. I'll be fine."
"See?" Her father said, leading the way back down the stairs. "She just needs to stop moping over herself. Come, Mamori. I have someone I want you to meet."
"Mamori-chan." The older woman touched her arm. "Are you sure you're okay? You don't have to-"
"I'm okay." She grabbed her mother's hand and it was like being held by ice. "Maybe... I just need to get over things."
Her jaw hardened and she took her hand away and grabbed both of Mamori's arms. "That's not true and you know it! Don't push yourself like this!"
Mamori pulled herself from the grasp. "It's okay." But deep inside she knew it wasn't.
When she met her father and guest the two were talking in the living room. "Ah, there she is now. My beautiful, wonderful daughter, Mamori. Mamori, this is an associate of mine, Hiroshi."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mamori-san." The guest said and he looked as oily and deeply unappealing as his voice. "Your father had told me that you haven't been feeling to well recently. Something about problems at school?"
Her mother was the first to react. "She doesn't-"
"Darling." Her father cut in a bit too quickly and a bit too roughly. "If you’d bring some coffee for our guest? The rain is a bit chilly." With a final disapproving frown, his wife headed toward the kitchen. Indicating for Mamori to sit on the couch next to Hiroshi, he smiled at them both. "I'm sure you two will get along wonderfully."
It was a set up. She knew this, but it didn't make anything better. Instead she just gave a small little smile in return. The way Hiroshi's eyes twinkled at this didn't help her feelings at all.
"Tell me, Mamori-san." He said with a purr that would've been pleasing if not for the dirty feel it left. "What sorts of troubles are you having? Class work, perhaps?"
Her father answered instead. "She broke up with her 'boyfriend' recently."
"Really? That is a shame." He patted her hand lightly and she tried not to flinch. "I don't see how someone as charming as you could have such problems."
Mamori offered a thin attempt at a smile in return. "Thank you." Her voice was sour and her skin crawled. She didn't know why her father was doing this to her but she REALLY wished he'd stop.
"Tell me, what kind of boy was he?" Hiroshi asked as her mother came out with mugs of coffee. He took his and two sugar packets with a smile. "He must be a crude, stupid child of a man to leave you."
Mamori took her cup from her mother as the latter woman bristled. "Hiruma-kun isn't-"
"DEAR." The three of them turned to her father. "Let it be. Hiruma wasn't a good enough boy for my daughter."
"That's not for you to-"
"He was crude and violent." He sipped his coffee quietly. "I don't need anymore persuasion."
Hiroshi blinked, stirring the sugar in his drink. "Violent? Was he? That would explain it."
Mamori looked over at him in surprise. "Explain what?"
"How he became your boyfriend to begin with." He said matter-of-factly. "Bullied you and threatened you and hurt you whenever you tried to get away from him before he tired of you, was that how it was?"
Mamori looked at the man in with more disgust then surprise. “Hiruma-kun would NEVER hurt me!”
“Really?” He gave her what he must have thought was a soothing smile. “Then why have you been crying?”
Mamori would never call herself a physically strong girl, or particularly violent but Hiroshi was lucky he didn’t get whiplash from the force of her hand against his cheek.
“GET OUT.” Her fists were trembling at her sides and her face was livid with fury.
Hiroshi stammered, still reeling from the blow. “But-But Mamori-“
“GET OUT!” She screamed. “GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!” She threw her mug at him (though it missed and shattered on the floor, the liquid scalded his hand) and fled to her room.
Her mother cried after her, “Mamori-chan!”
“Leave her alone.”
She turned to her husband who was busy picking up the porcelain fragments. “What do you mean?”
He frowned at the pieces almost thoughtfully. “She’s had it too easy until now. She has to learn that everything won’t always go her way.”
But his wife was brimming over with her own righteous anger. “This is your fault!” She cried. “If it weren’t for you, our little girl wouldn’t be hurting like this! What kind of father breaks his own child’s heart? Hiruma-kun is a wonderful boy!”
“ ‘A wonderful boy’?” He snarled right back. “Someone who manipulates others for his own selfish gains and threatens them with weapons is a ‘wonderful boy’?”
“You don’t know! You don’t even care! All you’ve seen was someone getting too close to your precious little baby! Maybe if you didn’t throw the poor boy halfway across the room before you even knew who he was you wouldn’t have messed things up so badly!”
By this time, he was red in the face himself. Hiroshi shrank into the hallway, trying to keep clear of all the free flying anger. “What, you think it’s okay for Mamori to be around someone like him?”
“If Mamori-chan is happy with him, then maybe you should be happy for her!”
“She doesn’t know anything- she’s still too young! Letting her around a boy like that, you’ve both gone insane!”
“Well maybe if you were around more often, you wouldn’t be so out of touch with your only child!”
His thick jaw snapped shut and mind whirled without thoughts. He tried to open it again but the look on his wife’s face DARED him to try. She was a strong willed woman and she had fired that could burn down the strongest of resistances. He knew any attempt made from that point on would be shot down the moment it tried to take off.
Cowed but growling, he roughly grabbed Hiroshi by the arm and sat him on the couch before he went off to look for the first aid kit.
~*~*~*~
“Oi, idiot. You’ll need this!”
In the dark of the storm, his jacket wrapped around his face.
“Don’t screw this up, huh?”
“Good luck!”
Freeing himself he growled back at them, “I hate you both.”
~*~*~*~
It was cold. And dark. And really fucking wet. There had to have been a good reason why he was out here at this minute. There had to have been a good reason why he couldn't wait until later. Like tomorrow. Or when he wasn't going to suffer from hypothermia.
Mamori's house was lit up down the street and he hunched deeper into his jacket.
...Yeah, that was a good enough reason.
When he knocked on the door, Mamori's mother was cleaning up the last of the spill and her father was putting the first aid kit away. Hiroshi, being the closest available person to the door, was asked to see who it was.
He shrieked when the door slammed open in front of him.
A tall, lanky figure took up the doorway, drenched and shivering and tense pants coming out it visible puffs. His eyes gleamed and his lips were fixed in a sharp, toothy frown. It was almost like a devil had come to invade.
"Where is she?" He asked, and his voice was harsh and deep and rasped.
"Wh-Who are you?" Hiroshi stammered. He was an assistant manager and this was just some young punk whose entire purpose was to be commanded by the likes of himself. He could take control of this situation.
But the devil snarled. "None of your damn business. Where. Is. She."
"How rude! You dare to barge in here and make those kinds of demands without even intro-"
"Shut your mouth. You're voice is annoying the piss outta me and if I gotta repeat myself one more damn time there's gonna be trouble."
"You've got some nerve, boy! I've got the right mind to call-"
His throat closed up when he found a magnum shoved against his nose.
“I don’t care who you are.” Hiruma coldly, “I don’t care what you’re doing here. But you are going to shut up and back the fuck off. Right. Now.”
Trying to figure out why he didn’t have the situation under control, Hiroshi cleared his throat. “I really don’t think you-“ he faltered at the click of the safety, “sh-should be threatening-“ words started running for cover when the hammer was pulled back, “er, threatening, um…..” The look in Hiruma’s eyes said he wasn’t joking around. “It’s ver-very d-dangerous to-“
~*~*~*~
Mamori jolted upright on her bed at the sound of gunfire.
~*~*~*~
Mamori’s mother shrieked when Hiroshi collapsed, the first drop of blood bright against the wood of the floor. Her wide eyes were drawn to a tiny rattling sound across the floor, seeking out a little ball bearing as it bumped into the wall. Her lungs were able to breathe at the same time Hiroshi groaned, grabbing his nose. As real as it looked, Hiruma’s magnum was nothing more than an air gun though powered up and at point blank range it managed to give Hiroshi a bloody nose.
Her husband, however, was less than humored at the situation. “Just what do you think you’re doing!?” He roared.
Hiruma snarled at him. “Che! I don’t have time for you.”
No one noticed that Mamori’s mother had fled for the stairs.
~*~*~*~
“Mamori-chan!” Her head swiveled toward the door. “Mamori-chan, open up!”
She crawled over the bed and twisted the doorknob, surprised to find her mother pushing it open all the way. “Mother?”
“Hi-Hiruma-kun!” She panted. “He shot Hiroshi in the face!”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
Another shot was fired into the rain and sky. “Oi!” A voice screamed from the walkway. “Fucking manager! I got somethin’ to say to you!” Two more shots rang out. “Get the fuck down here!”
When Mamori reached the front door Hiruma had turned the muzzle from skyward to her father who stood on the front stoop of the house. “I still got plenty of rounds left and even though they ain’t real, Pops,” his sneer took on the look of a twisted grin at her father’s scowl, “they still hurt like a bitch. You just stand right there with dipshit, all right? This has nothin’ to do with you.”
“It involves my daughter.” Her father’s voice was gruff. “It’s got everything to do with me.”
“Then here’s free advice for the next time you go on another business venture: Call home every once in a while.” Hiruma’s face grew dark and his hand tightened around the pistol grip. “There’s nothin’ worse then having someone ask her how her father’s doing and watchin’ that sad little smile on her face when she doesn’t know. The only reason I’m not pluggin’ yer ass now is just for the fact that you are her father.”
“You’ve got some nerve, coming to my home, threatening us and criticizing the way I’ve raised my daughter-“
“DIDN’T raise her.”
“Shut your-“
“Father!” Both men looked at Mamori, surprised to see her standing there, shivering slightly. Her mother put hands upon her shoulders.
“Mamori-chan,” she whispered, “make the choice you need to make. No matter what, I’ll make sure no one tries to stop you.” She gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. “My brave little girl.”
The first step forward was the hardest, but the second was easier by only slightly. But the next one and the next just got easier and easier and the steps she took toward her father and by him and passed him were done easily and with a small smile on her face. When her feet hit the wet pavement, Mamori wanted to run but the lack of strength in her legs made it almost impossible to stand.
Hiruma’s arm came down slowly, arm hanging like the weapon was weighted with all the stress and frustration and undirected anger that bore down on him for what should’ve been called eternity. When she stepped halfway to him, Hiruma opened his mouth.
“Mamori.”
She stopped at the sound of her name. She had missed his voice and his warmth and his touch and just hearing him acknowledge her again made her want to collapse with joy.
His cheek twitched as he struggled to think through his words, “I want you to know….. I don’t love you.”
The joy and strength in her drained, leaving Mamori’s face pale and looking as if she’d break if the wind blew even faintly. Her lip trembled and her body trembled and the rain felt like ice on her cold skin.
“But,” he said quickly, trying to control the desperate feeling that wanted to take her in his arms and keep her away from everything, “I want to be with you.” Mamori’s eyes widened and she didn’t think her heart could take anymore of….. anything. “I won’t change who I am,” he continued, “but I may be willing to make some exceptions. For your sake.” Hiruma looked vaguely at the ground, knowing he should say more but uncertain about how to say it. Finally, he snarled and waved his gun around in animated ire. “And pull yourself together! You’re distracting the team and that weepy, servile look on your face really pisses me off!”
That broke the heavy chains that had lashed at Mamori’s heart for so long now and she laughed- she had to. “Hiruma-kun!” She ran at him, holding as tightly as she could as if it were the only thing that kept him there. It felt like she was crying, rain warm on her face. And maybe she was, but that wasn’t important. What was important was Hiruma’s smell- fresh and green and sublime- Hiruma’s touch- hard and warm and gentle- and Hiruma’s voice- rough and velvet and filling the empty spot her mind yearned for.
And just because he could, because he had to know for himself and remember for himself (even if he would deny it later) Hiruma wrapped his arms tight around her and let the rest of the world drop away.
Mamori’s mother- having giving Hiroshi the first aid kit and a point to the bathroom -came up to her husband with one umbrella in the crook of her arm, the other flipping a second one open. Putting the open umbrella into his numb hand, she said, “Don’t worry, dear,” her voice was like deadly sweet saccharine as she shook open the other umbrella, “you’ll have time to get used to him. Plenty of time, by the look of things.”
Skipping down the steps, she went over to the teens, holding the umbrella over all of them. She bent briefly to pick up the discarded air gun (because it wouldn’t due to leave something like /that/ out for long) and then coaxed the two back into the warmth of the house.
~*~*~*~
Sena ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t really know what to say, but he knew he had to be there, just as she had always been there for him. He took in a deep breath and-
“Yo, Sena!”
Somehow nearly choked on air. “M-Monta?” He wheezed. “What are you doing here?”
The other boy looked at him almost in surprise. “Seeing how Mamori-san is doing. Aren’t you?”
“Well, yeah, but….” Sena couldn’t help the tiny seed of suspicion inside him.
“Hey, that’s just rude!” Monta poked a thick finger against Sena’s forehead. “I may like her, but I know she needs support now more than anything!”
Sighing, Sena turned back to the house. “If you say so.” Behind him, Monta grinned. After all, there was always /after/ the support….
“Mamori-neechan!” Sena called up. “Hey, Mamori-neechan!”
The window to her bedroom opened up and both boys looked on in shock.
“The hell do you guys want?” Hiruma shouted back down, lazing on the windowsill. “Fucking shrimps.” He added with his customary grin.
“Hi-Hi-Hiruma-san!” Their jaws dropped to their feet, only because the ground kept it from going any further. “What are you doing up there??”
“Seein’ more than you guys are.” Came the easy return. His grin quickly faded, however, when the only sounds coming out of Sena and Monta was about as articulate as a dying lawnmower. “Che. She’s in the shower.” Hiruma enunciated for them slowly. “What do you want?”
As Sena was apparently trying not to have a heart attack, Monta stammered back, “We just wanted to make sure Mamori-san was okay!”
“Yeah, yeah.” Hiruma waved a dismissive hand out the window. “The world’s fucking peachy.”
“Er.” The two looked at each other in confusion. “I guess we’ll…. See you at school?”
“Practice as usual.” He told them. “Tell the rest of the slackers.”
“Right, Hiruma-san!”
He watched them go, a strange twist of a smile on his face before he leaned his head out the window to watch the sky. Hiruma was, to be blunt, happy. Happy with the turn of events, happy with things in the foreseeable future, happy with the world in general.
He was still in that same, happy contemplating position when Mamori came in, one towel wrapped around her head, another around her body.
“Hiruma-kun!” Her startled voice had him craning his neck. Her state of undress had him scrambling for a better view and an appraising look. “What are you doing in here?”
“Felt like it.” He said faintly, memorizing each curve and tucking it deep into his memory so he could bring it out and play with it whenever he got bored. Mamori laughed to herself, certain he didn’t realized the stupid grin plastered across his face.
“How sweet.” She drawled. “But I’d like to change without you ogling me.”
Putting on a hurt face, Hiruma said, “I don’t get a free show?”
“Not yet.”
“ ‘Yet’?” Hiruma’s eyebrows rose and his grin grew. “So I’ll get one eventually?”
The flush from the shower and his hungry eyes made Mamori’s wicked smile all the sultrier. “Maybe later.”
“Later? Like tonight?” A long finger trailed lightly against the soft, wet material of the towel where Mamori’s hip met the thigh.
“Hiruma-kun!” She laughed, smacking his hand away. “Go, I have to change!”
Pouting (which he would also deny doing), Hiruma skulked out of her room. Within ten minutes, Mamori- now fully dressed- opened her bedroom door to find him lounging against the stairway railing. Pulling on the lapels of his jacket, she gave him a soft kiss (because she could) before leading him down the stairs. They said goodbye to her mother and Mamori said goodbye to her father (Hiruma just gave him a smug grin) and, with Mamori’s schoolbag in hand (Hiruma’s was still in the clubhouse), the two stepped out the house towards school.
Mamori stayed a half step behind Hiruma, knowledge that he liked being in the lead still firm in her subconscious. But she couldn’t help but say playfully, “So you don’t love me?”
Hiruma scowled. “Of course not.”
“Not even a little bit?”
“Not at all.”
But she smiled just the same and tugged one of Hiruma’s hands from his jacket pocket and held it in hers. He gave a long-suffering sigh in response, but she laughed and rested her head against his shoulder as they walked. Hiruma gave Mamori the barest of side-glances and tried to resist the warm smile that pulled at his lips. Well, he didn’t try very hard.
The best thing about people, after all, was the ability to change their minds.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-02-17 11:51 pm (UTC)The joy and strength in her drained, leaving Mamori’s face pale and looking as if she’d break if the wind blew even faintly. Her lip trembled and her body trembled and the rain felt like ice on her cold skin.
“But,” he said quickly, trying to control the desperate feeling that wanted to take her in his arms and keep her away from everything, “I want to be with you.” Mamori’s eyes widened and she didn’t think her heart could take anymore of….. anything. “I won’t change who I am,” he continued, “but I may be willing to make some exceptions. For your sake.” Hiruma looked vaguely at the ground, knowing he should say more but uncertain about how to say it. Finally, he snarled and waved his gun around in animated ire. “And pull yourself together! You’re distracting the team and that weepy, servile look on your face really pisses me off!”
I think that part was the best... way to describe any relationship that will happen between them. XD I loved it. OMG!!!
Shaking her head, Mamori moved to one side, letting Hiruma slid full length between her and the back of the couch. <-- slide?
but to Mamori-neechan does it for my sake. He’s never done anything wrong to her and she wouldn’t have let him, anyway.” no to? :O like but Mamori-neechan...
those are stuff I aught easily. I'll chck more later afte rI'm done ogling.
no subject
Date: 2005-02-18 02:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-18 03:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-18 02:29 am (UTC)If I can make a few suggestions? I feel like Mamori's mom should've played a bit more prominent role. Well, maybe not prominent, but she may have had a little narration on her part. Mamori's father played a huge role compared to her. o.o You're free to toss or argue this away, but I just felt like she was the obligatory "support" character.
I loved how you wrote Sena too. He stands up for both Hiruma and Mamori and he's changed from the spindly young boy from junior high. He's just so... admirable ;-; One of my favourite parts was when he defends Hiruma:
“Hiruma-san isn’t just like that.” And his voice held just as much conviction as his eyes. “Hiruma-san is kind in his own way. He’s given a lot of people a purpose and a direction and strength and even if it doesn’t seem like it, he wants the best for his team and the people he cares about. He and Mamori-neechan may argue on occasions, but to Mamori-neechan does it for my sake. He’s never done anything wrong to her and she wouldn’t have let him, anyway.”
The man took his hand from Sena’s shoulder and while the boy had fire, the man had experience. Even if it was just experience in hearing only what he wanted to hear.
Oh, also you've kept a certain pace going on, but I think that the part where Mamori runs crying away from Hiruma and bumps into Musashi was a bit... off tempo? Like it was rushed at that part whereas the other parts of your story had pauses between certain actions. .-. Um, I don't think I make sense.
And I love/hate Hiruma's asshole-ness XD I can't believe how he treated Mamori like that at the first dinner, and how he was so cold to her. But the way you described his thoughts really made me understand his point of view, even if they were sorta selfish o.o Good thing Monta knocked some sense in him!
Anyways, "Build, Break, Rebuild" was an amazing read. It was THE highlight of my week and I was wondering why you hadn't posted it sooner XDD Are you thinking of writing a prequel on how they got together? Because I know QUITE a few hungry fangirls who wouldn't mind harassing you XDDD
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Date: 2005-02-18 02:51 am (UTC)She means me. :B ... and her. XDDD....
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Date: 2005-02-18 03:09 am (UTC)Yeah, she's still a bit too angsty for my liking, but, like I said, I still have some mixed feelings over this^^;;
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Date: 2005-02-18 04:04 am (UTC)First off, thank you for your comments. Good characterizations is always the first thing on my mind whenever I write. Second comes the plot- because if a character can't fit into a situation, then what's the point, you know?
And I already mentioned Mamori in my previous reply^^;;
I actually originally intended Mamori's mom to have a bigger role, but when things started snowballing and more people randomly jumped in there, I lost the scenes I wanted to make with her and... well, she just become supporting!mom.
I love Sena. I mean, there's really no one in ES that I actively don't like, but I seriously <3 Sena's character because he IS a wussy little kid. But the fact that he grows in the series and becomes someone you just have love, I really wanted to show that somehow^^
The only problem I have with long/multi-part fics is that I tend to bounce around in my writing. I'll do the beginning, then the end, then a scene somewhere in the middle, then a scene somewhere else and so on until I have all the parts I thought out first written down. Then I go crazy trying to find tie-in scenes (which was my major problem for this). The part where she bumps into Musashi was one of those 'what-the-hell-do-I-put-in??' scenes. XDD
Hiruma is such a dick. That's why he's my favorite and that's why he gets put that sort of torture. And, because he's Hiruma, he won't take being tortured lying down and thus other people suffer^^;;
Actually, the thing about Monta was added pretty late in the game. Because I was reading what I had at that point and then remembered.... Monta had a crush on Mamori. ....shit! o.O;;
I'm really glad that you liked it^^ I have, somewhere, a couple scenes from a potential prequel floating around. I just haven't really picked it up in a while. Though that's mainly because I spent so much time on this (according to word, this was created on january 31! o.O;;)
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Date: 2005-02-18 10:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-25 10:37 pm (UTC)Although, er, it really isn't happy. XD
I still need to send you my long... ass... review. Ahaha! In the next hour or so, it'll be bombed off your way. :3 Wait fer it. <3
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Date: 2005-05-10 02:22 am (UTC)WAOW!
Date: 2007-03-22 12:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-11 12:38 pm (UTC)Even though there're some parts that I think Hiruma becomes more annoying than he really is, I still think that it's not really OOC.
Hate the father a lot!!!
Love the mother, she rocks ^_^
The part where Hiruma said that he didn't love Mamori really made my jaw dropped.
How could he said so?
Anyway, since Mamori understand the truth without being told, so I think it's forgiven ^_~