"Mamori-nee, you coming?" asked one of the football players.

"No, I think I'm going to work here a little longer. Later, guys."

Mamori smiled and waved goodbye without looking up from her notebook, while her football team filed out of the room. Eventually only she and Hiruma were left. Normally he would be on his laptop, polishing a weapon, or coming over to look at her notes... Today he was leaning stiffly against the wall, across the table from her. He was trying to look unaffected despite the sling on his arm and he wasn't looking her way. She leaned forward on her elbows and looked him over.

"Hiruma-kun, you've been quiet for a while now..."

"Oh yeah, manager?" he asked, still staring into space.

"Yeah, coach. Any particular reason?" she challenged.

"Hm..."

She frowned. "You're still in your football uniform. Planning on staying like that forever?"

He frowned right back. "Not that it's any business of yours, manager, but probably." He chewed his gum and popped it nonchalantly.

Mamori raised her eyebrows and thought about that for a moment. Then her eyes slid over to his sling. She drummed her fingers on the table, not liking where her thoughts had just taken her. "You need someone to help you change, don't you?" she decided.

Hiruma scoffed and pushed off the wall.

"To freaking help me change?" he asked skeptically. "You think I'm going to let anyone help me?" He shook his head and stalked to the door.

Mamori walked ahead of him and locked it before he got a chance to open it. It clicked ominously and she froze in the ensuing silence. Hiruma froze too. Then he slowly turned to face her. Mamori bit the inside of her cheek, taking a moment to think. He'd said he wouldn't let anyone help him-not that he didn't need help. Since she was used to dealing with him, it was obvious to her that he did need help. But what was she going to do about it?

This time Hiruma's expression was questioning. He was probably too surprised to react any other way. She wondered if he had any inkling of what she was thinking when she locked the door-of her being the one to help. Looking into his eyes, she thought he probably did know. But he still asked.

"What do you think you're doing, manager?"

His lips turned up and then he spread them wide, showing off his sharp, gleaming teeth.

Mamori felt her back straighten in response and her shoulders set. She knew he was just trying to intimidate her, and that was not going to fly. She narrowed her eyes and faced him as bravely as any football player on the field would and opened her mouth.

"Take off your sling," she demanded.

Hiruma cocked an eyebrow. Mamori cocked any eyebrow right back. Finally, she took a step to the side and put herself between him and the door. He turned with her and refused to even take a step back. So now only a couple of feet separated them. It was not the most comfortable of places to be-for anyone-considering who he was... But Mamori swallowed that fear. She tilted her head back slightly to keep looking him in the face, raised an eyebrow expectantly and said, "Take-off-your-sling, Hiruma-kun."

Hiruma schooled his expression into blankness. Then he asked with complete disbelief, "Do you mean to tell me you plan on getting me to undress?" He grinned again and reached in to his shirt to pull out his threat book. "Keh. Everyone's going to love to hear that little Miss-"

Mamori winced, realizing that this was exactly the type of thing he could put in his threat book-something she wouldn t want anyone to know about. She flushed with shame and anger. Then she grabbed the wrist of his injured arm. At that moment Hiruma's knees weakened and he tipped slightly to the side in an effort not to go down. He shot her a glare that promised death. Mamori looked away immediately and tightened her grip just slightly-a milder threat of her own. "If you're not going to cooperate..." she stated, her eyes focused somewhere on his chest.

"Who do you think I am, manager?"

Her gaze snapped back up. "You're... Oh, just be still, won t you!"

Hiruma clenched his jaw, tensed his muscles and glowered at the girl who dared to touch him like this. He'd known she was getting bolder, and less fearful of him. He'd known he should do something about it too if he wanted to maintain his position. But this was the first useful type of blackmail he'd gotten on her and it involved him, of all people! And even with the threat of it, she still wouldn't back down. He should've switched tactics. He should've put away the threat book and pulled out a gun instead. He was nearly positive that with the threat of a handgun pressed into her side she would back down. But then again, would she? Despite being what he considered a "goody-two-shoes," she had done a few things here and there that made him wonder.

This was the boldest she'd ever been with him, however. He didn't think she would go through with her plan. But while he stood there, thinking, she was already easing him out of the sling, her grip on his wrist never faltering, despite the lancing pain that just that slight pressure was forcing up his arm...

He cussed and then burst out, "You stupid manager, do you intend to make it so I can never play football again?" he demanded, glaring down at the hand that held his wrist. She was going to break his arm worse than ever!

Mamori jumped. She slightly loosened her grip... And hesitated. Despite her brave front, she was a little scared. She wanted to help him. She was going to help him. But she'd never been around any stripped down guys before, much less helped them to undress! Could she really do this? SHOULD she do this?

Hiruma shifted his eyes to her and smirked. "Can't do it, can you, stupid manager? Fine, give me back my stupid wrist and get out of my way!"

Mamori shifted her eyes to him guiltily. If she was sane, she would take this chance and back down. And they'd never have to speak of it again. But she was just too stubborn to give up. So she too a breath, raised his injured arm, then she grabbed his jersey and began to pull it off. The moment she thought he was going to stop her, she stomped down on his foot and as he bent forward from the pain she yanked the jersey the rest of the way off. The book fell out of his hand and he yelped, indignant and smarting. Mamori stood there for a second, jersey in hand, feeling utterly triumphant.

Hiruma's head and then his torso snapped upright. Ignoring the pain in his foot, he stomped toward her, forcing her to back up despite her efforts to stand still, and slammed his good hand against the door, keeping her trapped in place. He kept his other arm tucked to his side and focused on glaring instead of wincing at the pain she'd just put it through. Mamori cowered, her composure lost for the moment, and he fully expected her to back down. He was purposefully trying to intimidate her-to retrieve some of the power he'd just lost-and it was working. But he should've known by now that Anezaki Mamori was not one to be intimidated for long. She dropped his jersey on the floor and began, quite deftly, to relieve him of his armor.

Mamori ignored his tactics. She knew she was playing with fire-this idea was so ill-advised from the beginning!-but she couldn't seem to give up now. She hated to be pushed around, that's why she always refused to be afraid of Himura Youichi, Deimon High's most notorious bad student, no matter how he looked, or acted, or what he threatened. She'd had to be that way at first to protect other students, and finally to protect Sena. And now who was she protecting but Himura himself? Undressing him was awkward and probably morally wrong in some way and her instincts were screaming for her to run away. But he really was a person who didn't let others get close. He hadn't been planning on even getting help. He'd even said that he might just keep wearing his uniform. She couldn't believe he would do that, but what if he really couldn't do it himself and he still wouldn't let anyone else? Really, who would he ask if he was even willing to? Kurita maybe? But he'd let Kurita walk out the door. She was the only one here. He was such an idiot sometimes! So she didn't run away. She wasn't going to leave him in this predicament. She started with the shoulder pads, lifted them off over his head and dumped them on the floor, and then began removing the rest of his guards.

She almost thought he would be the one to back down. But he never did, of course. She felt the full intensity of his eyes watching her and the full force of his presence the entire time. That was the hardest part, receiving his full attention while doing this. She blushed and tried to stay focused. The way he was looming over her there was barely any room to remove his rib pad but she managed, unlacing it and sliding it off his sweaty body. She dropped it behind him with the rest of the gear she'd removed and heard him give a sigh of relief. Where as she gasped softly. Because as it turned out, he wasn't shirtless beneath all that armor; but the white muscle shirt he had on was completely wet, inevitably drawing her eye to the definition of his muscles. And she realized, perhaps for the first time, that she'd never seen him like this before-not even at the beach. She held her breath and without consciously meaning to do it, she touched his chest. Yeah, Hiruma was... Hiruma was ripped.

Mamori was closer to his body at this moment than any girl had probably ever been. That alone was enough to make him take notice of the apparent softness and scent of her hair, the slimness of her body, the way her chest rose and fell when she breathed. It wasn't like he could see down her shirt or anything. But he was still aware of the fact that those were there, much as she must be aware that certain parts of his anatomy were where they were, so close to her.

It wasn't like he'd even explicitly allowed her to get this close to him. Somehow... she had forced this. And that, especially because it involved facing HIM down-something so few others could do-was undeniably impressive. This girl was probably the single-handedly most courageous person he'd ever met. That unfortunately meant that he had to be just as strong-willed. He had to stand still, no matter what she did, or she would win. But the stupid girl was even more unpredictable than he'd thought. He sighed when she removed the last of the padding because he thought she was done. But she wasn't. That little gasp, coupled with the fact that she was basically groping the muscles on his chest caused Hiruma to change his mind. She probably wasn't aware just what parts of him were all that close to her, and he seriously considered being the one to step away first, lest it become obvious soon. But his dang pride would not allow it. And he had self-control... didn't he? He bit into his lip with one sharp fang, drawing blood, and ground out the first cocky statement that came to mind.

"Freaking hell, Anezaki. Are you done yet?" He stared down at her head, as if to bore into her brain. He didn't know what he was really trying to communicate but assumed that she would get it none-the-less.

She jumped, snatched back her hand, and tilted back her head, bumping it against the door. She remembered, belatedly, when staring into the eyes of the beast above her, exactly why she wasn't supposed to be alone with guys-alone, one of them undressed, and with the door locked, no less. She cursed quietly and took a shaky breath, trying to think. But her eyes were still wide open, she was locked into his gaze. He had her pinned with those eyes, not to mention blocked by his stance. And good grief if he wasn't the damnest, the most sexy man she'd ever laid eyes on! The intense expression on his face spurred an impulsive reaction. She leapt suddenly onto her toes and kissed him full on the mouth.

For all his crazy laughter, gun-blazing, and 'ya-ha'ing, Hiruma could (at times) be a stolid individual. Heck, a few minutes ago when he was leaning against the wall with his sling, that's exactly what he was. Not any more. He wasn't even that shocked-he was hungry. Mamori didn't have a clue what she was doing but it didn't matter. He took control of the kiss, dominating her in this arena in a way he'd been unable to so far. They both tasted blood for a second and she recoiled slightly but he didn't let her draw back very far. He stroked one of her smooth arms and then wrapped his own around her waist. She quickly forgot about his bitten lip and copied him with both of her arms, hugging him for all she was worth, afraid he would pull back.

He didn't. He could bear to. She was beautiful and strong. So fiery. So brave. And she'd just undressed him and kissed him. He was man, wasn't he? She couldn't expect indifference. His body was on fire. He was seeing flames. There was no denying this. Mamori melted in his embrace and wavered dangerously at the knees. Hiruma held her tighter and backed her against the door, supporting her body. Then he proceeded to work some kind of magic on her mouth. Her hands slid into his hair and she lifted one of her legs, a reflexive action allowing their hips to align and bringing their lower bodies tremendously close.

They broke the kiss with a gasp. Hiruma froze. Mamori's hands fisted in his hair and her body tensed from shoulders to thighs. He expected her to scream-to be scared or horrified or something. Instead, the little hiss that followed was nearly his undoing. "H-Hiruma!" He knew he needed to back away but he couldn't quite get a grip. His body knew what it should be doing in this situation and calming down wasn't it. He desperately wanted to keep going, despite neither of them being in any way prepared for it. She trembled, trying valiantly not to squirm against him or lower that leg. She was practically yanking his hair out now. With a wince and a groan of effort, he jerked back, freeing himself in the process. He forced himself to sit stiffly across the room, nearly tripping over the discarded pieces of his uniform on his way.

Mamori's entire body shuddered. Then she hit the floor as if she had no bones in her legs. She threw out an arm to keep herself from falling over sideways and leaned on it heavily. The other hand flew to her chest as if to calm its rapid beating. She shook her head and swallowed hard. "H... H..." Finally she stared at him openly. "Hot damn, Hiruma Youichi!" she exclaimed.

The sheer appreciation in her voice would've embarrassed her normally but Hiruma's ego flamed like kindling in the face of that kind of encouragement. His trademark grin split across his face, his chest swelled, and his eyes shone with the desire to show her what he could really do. If he didn't get away from her he was going to pick up right where he left off. He tried to convey that to her in his eyes. And maybe it worked because she didn't move toward him. But this was a small room with only one exit so she really needed to get up. So he looked away, clenched his fists and choked out, "That's all for today, Anezaki. Get the hell out already!"

She was probably going to take that order the wrong way, like he was actually upset about the impromptu make-out session, but it couldn't be helped. She needed to get out and he needed to take a freaking COLD shower, ASAP.

Mamori had never felt or been so exposed. But she was willing to bet that neither had he. So when he ordered her to get out, she wasn't as annoyed or as insulted as she might have been. But she still felt singed. Couldn't he have at least said something back? No, this was Hiruma. She had a lot to think about before she could try to understand him. Or this. Or them. And he really was right... she needed to leave! So she jumped to her feet, happy to find them able to support her again, and fled the building, without even bringing her school bag, the slightest tang of his blood still on her tongue. She swallowed hard.

Hiruma gripped his arm at the elbow and squeezed, despite the pain that triggered. He needed a distraction. He gave her time to get away, and then fled the room himself, kicking his threat book under the couch as he did so. That stupid thing had fallen out of his hands a long time ago and he had no time to put it away. The couch would hide it well enough. Without bothering to put anything else on over his wife-beater, he beat it to the showers, that stupid manager's voice still ringing in his ears. "Hot damn, Anezaki Mamori!" he thought, copying her words, and let the water rush over him, heedless of what clothes he still had on or how he would eventually get them off now.

A/N: Please review! Despite this being called a one-shot, I have a few further ideas that may culminate in a second chapter!