DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. All characters and events depicted are fictional. This work of fiction is inspired heavily by the manga series "Eyeshield 21", and shares many themes and story elements with that work, but contains no characters from it. This work of fiction is not inspired at all by the anime series "Eyeshield 21", and in fact the author attempts to ignore its existence. This work of fiction was originally intended to be formatted as a manga, but due to the author's lack of artistic abilities, it is a purely text-based work instead.

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The cruelest three digits in sports glowed softly in the middle of the arena's scoreboard. On one of the field's two sidelines, the team gathered to celebrate. On the opposite side of the field, those that had waited there cast their heads downward, while the worst reactions came from those who were still present on the field.

"IT'S NOT FAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIR!!" A dull thud punctuated this outburst of anger and despair as a player slammed his helmet into the ground. "Why here!? Why now!?" He wore a black jersey with a golden '26' on the front, back, and each shoulder. His red bangs hid his eyes as tears gathered in them and began to fall to the grass, even as other players in black, gold-numbered jerseys and gold pants shuffled past him to the sideline. "How can you do that…?" he protested weakly, before lifting his head up to scream again. "HOW CAN YOU BE SO CASUAL ABOUT THIS!?"

"Yoshito," a gloved hand landed on 26's pad-covered shoulder. "Be silent for a bit." Still standing, Yoshito's teammate looked staunch, carrying his helmet in his other arm. His brown hair hung in a long braid that traveled down his back, landing between the digits of his jersey number: 14.

"But Kakeru-"

"Our senpais aren't showing it…but they're more torn up than both of us…Maybe it's because they've had more experience losing at a time like this."

"But so many of them are graduating! They'll never be able to-"

"I know," Kakeru interrupted, removing his hand from Yoshito's shoulder and beginning to walk off the field. "For us, there's next year…but they…yeah…'They'll never be able to'…"

Gridiron
a story by G.O.T. Nick

1-yard line: New Beginning

April 8, 20XX1, The sky is full of clouds.

My name is Aoi Kakeru. Sixteen years old, birthday September 13. Last year, I was a player for the American football team at my high school, Taikyo Gakuen. We successfully advanced farther than any team at Taikyo before us…but that wasn't enough…In the end, we still lost.

The American football club was in its third year then. Most of the players were seniors who had been with the club from the beginning. The game we lost, was the final game any of them played for Taikyo. It will probably be the last time any of them ever played organized American football. They were all amazingly talented people…which is why so many others abandoned the club, even those who still had one or even two years left to play. Yoshito and I are the only ones left – everyone else thought the team had no chance of winning, with the seniors gone. I don't know what we're going to-

"Oy, Kakeru!" A bug's eye view of the distant sky was blocked out by a face hemmed by short, spiky brown hair, which was dyed red and combed to the side in the front. "What're you doing on your back here? You look all sweaty and stuff! Jeez, are you training for a marathon or something?"

Character intro: Naki Yoshito, age 16, second-year Taikyo student

"…Have to be in shape for American football…" Kakeru muttered. His eyes were narrowed, and his brown braid coiled on the ground by his head. He was lying on his back on the school's outdoor track. Classes were out, but he hadn't changed out of his school uniform – instead he had simply set his black jacket aside and worked out in the pants and an undershirt.

"…But it's barely even the start of the school year." Yoshito pointed out. "The tournament's not for another-"

"We have…a game at the end of the week," Kakeru stated, climbing to his feet. He stretched out his long, slender limbs and wiped sweat from his brow.

"…Say what?"

"I accepted a challenge from Kojin High."

"…But…the end of the week…WE'RE THE ONLY TWO PEOPLE ON THE TEAM!"

"Yes."

"…You-…Well we'll just have to forfeit, then." Yoshito crossed his arms and nodded to himself.

"No."

"Why not?" Yoshito opened one eye to peer at Kakeru as his taller teammate retrieved his school jacket.

"Made a bet, can't back out unless I pay up."

"…How much?"

Kakeru donned his jacket and turned to stroll off before answering. "50000 yen2."

"…….." Yoshito practically teleported in front of Kakeru to grab his collar. "WHAAAAAAAAAT!?"

"Look, it's simple," Kakeru calmly brushed off Yoshito's hold. "Tomorrow, we visit all the athletic clubs, and recruit enough players to form a team. Kojin's not a very strong team, we can beat them even with just the two of us."

"B-b-b-b…" Yoshito held up a hand in a stopping motion, half to himself and half to Kakeru. He took a deep, calming breath before attempting to respond again. "But…why would you accept a challenge…like this. It's…stupid!"

"…" Kakeru didn't meet Yoshito's eyes. "…They…insulted senpai."

Yoshito lifted his jaw, pressing his lips together. He looked at Kakeru with disapproval, but did not attempt to scold or berate him in any manner. "…Yeah, I guess an idiot like you would accept any challenge after that." He jammed his hands into his pockets and turned, walking in the same direction Kakeru had started off in. Kakeru himself followed along. "…Guess I have to get myself involved in this stupid affair, then. Just don't say I never did anything for you."

"…Yeah."

"Club activities'll be almost over by now…no point in trying to recruit people. Tomorrow we'll have to do everything we can to get as many people as possible, then focus on giving the volunteers a crash course the day before the game. I think the soccer3 team is-"

"Yoshito."

"What?"

"Thanks."

"…Yeah, whatever. You're my friend, right? Friends do stuff for each other. Now, we gotta get nine people minimum, so…"

The next day saw Kakeru and Yoshito speaking in the halls, while Kakeru reviewed his textbook. "You got class with anyone in a sports club?" Yoshito questioned. Kakeru softly shook his head. "Bah, well I guess we aren't going to get much of a head start…It'll pretty much all come down to how many people we can recruit during club activities."

"I was planning on that from the beginning," Kakeru muttered.

"Um…Kakeru-kun…?" Kakeru's eyes were drawn up from his book by the soft voice, which belonged to a somewhat pale girl with shoulder-length black hair that was falling in front of her eyes as she looked up at him.

Character intro: Kawaguchi Midori, age 16, second-year Taikyo student, American football team manager

"Kawaguchi," Kakeru greeted, "What is it?"

"Oy, Midori-chan!" Yoshito flashed her a bright grin and a 'v for victory,' earning a small smile and nod in return before Midori turned her attention back to Kakeru.

"I…got all the paperwork ready like you asked me to yesterday…"

"…Wait, you told her first!?" Yoshito asked incredulously, pointing a finger at Midori and gaping at Kakeru.

"She's the manager, it's important she knows about these things," Kakeru stated matter-of-factly. "Thank you, Kawaguchi."

"Um, Kakeru-kun, it's okay if you call me-"

"And did you happen to get anyone to volunteer to play?"

"Ah…" Midori lowered her head slightly, "…no…"

"Alright, don't worry, Yoshito and I will take care of that. Hopefully, we'll have at least eleven people by tomorrow, when we'll meet you for practice. Please have everything ready by then." Kakeru lowered his eyes back down into his textbook. "Thank you, Kawaguchi."

"Um…yes, Kakeru-kun," Midori nodded her head to him, and then again to Yoshito, and scurried off before her hair failed to hide her blush any longer.

"…Jeez, why are you so distant to her?" Yoshito raised his eyebrow. "You still call her by her family name after so long, what's up with that?"

"She is the manager, I am a player. Respect and understanding are necessary to that relationship, not familiarity."

"…Yeah, but…she's our age, I mean…Would it kill you to consider that she wants to be more than a manager to you? I mean, like a friend?" Kakeru didn't respond for several seconds, and then the bell rang. So Yoshito picked up his bag, sighed, and muttered as he left, "You're too single-minded, man…"

"Alright, here's the plan!" With classes over, Yoshito slapped his hand onto Kakeru's shoulder, and pointed off in one direction with the other hand. "YOU recruit from the baseball team!" He pointed off in another direction. "I'LL recruit from the soccer team!" He chuckled, and brushed his nose with his thumb. "Thanks to my tryout for the team last year, several of them know me, so I'm sure to have more success than you…"

"…Is that a challenge?" Kakeru questioned.

"The one with the least recruits has to carry the pads and helmets!" Yoshito immediately took off in the second direction he had indicated, leaving Kakeru standing alone in the hallway.

"…As if going more quickly will get you more recruits…" Kakeru muttered, shaking his head to himself.

Several minutes later, with the sound of wood repeatedly cracking against leather, Kakeru arrived at the fenced-in baseball field. The players wore primarily white, with black helmets…and there were definitely less than nine of them playing. In fact, the outfield was completely empty, and the teenager on the mound didn't appear to have the ball. The one at bat, instead, tossed the baseball into the air before repositioning both hands on the bat. "KUBOMI, LINE DRIVE!" he shouted, before swinging, smacking the ball hard to left field. The player positioned at third base leapt, barely snagging the ball out of the air. "Good job, good job!" the batter said, picking up another ball and repeating the process. "KOUSEI, GROUNDER!" this time the ball bounced once as it headed for the shortstop, who fell to his knees to grab the ball. It bounced off his glove, but he recovered, catching it barehanded out of the air before it could get behind him and tossing it to first base. "Nice recovery! Work on that glove some more, though. Remember-"

Kakeru cupped his hands to his mouth and called through the fence, "Ikku-san!"

This prompted the hitter to turn his head, and smile upon seeing who had called for him. "Alright, hitting practice," he said briefly to the other players, "drag the ball bin to the mound." He dropped the bat on the ground, and jogged over to Kakeru. He removed his baseball cap, revealing a close-shaven scalp, and he smiled as he greeted the American football player. "Kakeru-kun, what can I do for you?"

Character intro: Ikku Atsunori, age 17, third-year Taikyo student, baseball team captain (leftfielder)

"Ikku-san," Kakeru inclined his head to his senior student. "I need your help. The American football club has a game at the end of the week."

Ikku looked confused at this. "What, already? I thought the tournament didn't start for nearly a month."

"It's not a sanctioned game," Kakeru replied.

"Ah…" Ikku nodded. "Well, I've been a helper for the American football team since my first year…even if last year I was just a back-up. Of course I'll help."

"…We need more than one player."

"Oh? How many do you need."

"Nine. At least."

"…Oh. Well…" Ikku pointed over his shoulder, "you came at a bad time to recruit that much help. The whole team isn't here, just some first-year infielders and me."

"…I see…Well, if-"

"No, no, hold on," Ikku held up a hand to cut Kakeru off. "Seven is still a good number, right? Just hang on one second…" He turned around, facing the baseball field again. He then took a deep breath, and…"ALRIGHT, GET OVER HERE!" Several of the first-year players looked ready to jump out of their socks as Ikku yelled at them. "COME ON, MOVE IT MOVE IT MOVE IT!" As the first year players began to gather around him, Ikku cleared his throat, and resumed speaking normally. "You lot are helping out the American football club."

"…What?" asked the second baseman.

"We are?" threw in the catcher.

"How come?" said the pitcher

" 'CAUSE I'M YOUR CAPTAIN AND I SAID SO!" Ikku shouted, his eyes bulging out a bit, causing the other players to shrink away from him for a few seconds. Then he smiled brightly. "Think of it as a mandatory training exercise. It'll let you work on teamwork, stamina, speed-"

CRACK!

"…Oy, BARRY YOU GET OVER HERE TOO!"

Kakeru quirked an eyebrow and turned his head in the direction of the shout. A tall player was standing at the plate, clutching a bat. Kakeru hadn't noticed it before, but now he realized that the player was taller, and more muscular than the other players. He was a large, bald, black teen, and as Kakeru watched, he hit another ball…it went over the fence. "Right, captain," he complied, turning and walking over to the fence.

Character intro: Barry Anderson, age 16, first-year foreign exchange student from America to Taikyo, member of the baseball club

"Show some respect to your captain," Ikku scolded, "I don't care how good you are at hitting, you pay attention when I talk to you!"

"Sorry, captain," Barry inclined his head in apology. "Oh…and I'd be happy to help out the football team."

"…Oh. You were listening?" Barry nodded. "…Well…Good then. Glad to hear that."

'…I wonder if he planned all that out just to appear cool…' Kakeru pondered briefly.

"Everybody else, you're coming too," Ikku stated. The remaining five first-years looked and sounded considerably more reluctant as they muttered a chorus of 'okay's.

Character intro: first-year Taikyo baseball club members, age 16: Shibu Toshiaki (catcher), Osugi Jinshiro (second baseman), Kousei Shigeru (shortstop), Kubomi Kimiyasu (third baseman), and Marisejou Motoha (pitcher)

Barry gave a big smile to Kakeru, shouldering his baseball bat. "I played street ball with my friends back in the States every now and then…didn't think I'd get the chance again while I was here in Japan. Thanks for the offer, senpai!"

"…You're welcome…Anderson-san, is it?"

"Yeah," Barry said, using the English phrase. "When's the game, senpai?"

Kakeru smiled to himself…while they weren't done recruiting, at least he and Yoshito would have two willful helpers come game time.

"…They weren't there?" Kakeru repeated. He had opted to walk over to the soccer field after his successful attempt to enlist the help of the baseball team.

Yoshito had his face in the ground. "No practice today."

"Why didn't you know about that?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Yoshito exclaimed, lifting himself up. "CHO TOLD ME THEY HAD PRACTICE TODAY AND-BUGWA!"

These last two syllables left Yoshito's mouth because a cleat had just smashed into his spine. Yoshito fell to the ground in pain, as a girl in a soccer uniform lowered her leg. "Don't blame me, Yoshi-baka!" The girl exclaimed, a single vein on her forehead pulsing. Kakeru scratched his brow with two fingers and rolled his eyes at her entrance.

Character intro: Ikoma Cho, age 16, second-year Taikyo student, girls' soccer club member (sweeper)

"Gwa! Cho-chan…" Yoshito protested, clutching his back and beginning to rise. "First you lie to me…then you cripple me…this behavior is unforgiva-GAH!"

"I didn't lie to you, stop overreacting!" Cho declared, pinning Yoshito to the ground with her foot. "I said the team had practice today, but I didn't say the boys' team had practice. Hmph, why do you have to be so spastic, Yoshi-baka!?" She crossed her eyes to look at a strand of hair that had found its way to the bridge of her nose, and began to re-bun her brown hair into a ponytail. "Honestly, why can't you be more like Kake-kun? He could accept being wrong more easily."

"Please don't bring me into this, Cho," Kakeru held up a hand.

"I've known Kake-kun for a loooong time, and I never saw him have to get beaten up 'cause he was so stupid." Cho nodded to herself.

" 'Scause he's a robo-AAAAAAAGH!" Yoshito's protest was cut off yet again by a howl of pain.

"Don't insult people," Cho scolded as she continued to twist her cleat into Yoshito's back. "It's rude, Yoshi-baka!"

"So paaaiiiiinful…"

"Hmph!" Cho promptly pulled a cell phone out of her shorts pocket, and after pressing a few buttons, held the device up to her ear.

"Who are you calling, Cho?" Kakeru inquired.

"I'm getting you guys some help," she responded, "even if the team's not practicing, I stay in touch with Sei-kun."

Yoshito's ear twitched. "Sei-kun?"

"Shh!" Cho hissed, before turning her attention to the phone. "Hi Sei-kun! …Oh I'm fine! …Hahaha! Oh, you always know what to say, Sei-kun…"

"Who's 'Sei-kun'!?" Yoshito was promptly punched in the jaw.

"Listen, Sei-kun, I have a favor to ask. There's some friends of mine in the American football club who need some extra players. Would you please help them out? Pleeeeaaaase?"

"This is disgusting!" Yoshito complained.

"Whatever works," Kakeru shrugged.

"Oh thank you Sei-kun! …Yeah, at the field tomorrow, they'll take care of everything….Yes…Yes….Okay! Bye-bye!" She clicked the phone shut. "He'll be at the American football field tomorrow. Good luck, I gotta get back to practice!" Cho pocketed her cell phone and galloped off. "Bye Kake-kun! Bye Yoshi-baka!"

Kakeru silently waved farewell to Cho, while Yoshito shook with indignation. "…What…just…happened!?" the latter demanded.

"Cho got us another player. That gives us eight volunteers, plus the two of us, ten total players." Kakeru counted on his hands briefly, before letting them rest by his sides as he began to walk off. "We need at least one more. Come on."

"…Never called me 'kun'…" Yoshito muttered indignantly as he trailed after Kakeru.

"Stop complaining. We should be finished recruiting soon."

"Submit to having my club members assist the American football team? I, HOJO MITSUMASA, CAPTAIN OF THE TAIKYO GAKUEN JUDO CLUB, would never submit to such an atrocity!" Such were the words of a large, muscular student wearing a white gi as he looked down upon Kakeru and Yoshito, the latter of which looked rather depressed. Needless to say, the two had come to the school's dojo to seek the help of the judo club.

"…Atrocity?" questioned Kakeru, as he quirked an eyebrow.

"It is a foreign sport!" Hojo proclaimed. "Not worthy of my club members! Having them wear armor…limiting them to the movement of a ball rather than letting them take part in true combat!"

Yoshito sighed, and put his hand on Kakeru's shoulder. "Let's…go. There's no arguing with this guy. He's way too weird."

"THAT'S RIGHT! BE OFF WITH YOU! JUHUHUHUHUHU!" Hojo stopped…laughing…to look at the other members of the judo club. "Why so quiet? IT IS FUNNY! LAUGH WITH ME! JUHUHUHUHUHUHUHU!" This time, a few members joined in, though they simply chuckled unenthusiastically and uncomfortably.

"We are not leaving," Kakeru declared levelly.

"…You're not?" Hojo inquired, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

"We're not?" Yoshito echoed.

"No," Kakeru confirmed, and immediately the other members of the judo club began murmuring to each other. "Several of the members of the judo club possess the brute force necessary for an American football team to be successful. We would not simply appreciate your help…we need it." Kakeru bowed low, his head becoming level with his waist. "I once again humbly ask for your assistance. Please."

"…" Hojo stroked his chin, and was silent for several seconds, before letting out a grunt. "Hrmph…curse you…when you talk so respectfully there's no way I can just refuse you on the spot. You have found my weakness!…But at the same time I will not simply submit to your request, I am not so easily persuadable! NO, YOU MUST EARN MY ASSISTANCE!"

"What kind of person is this?" Yoshito looked on with a perplexed look on his face. Kakeru, on the other hand, was all business.

"What would I have to do to earn your assistance, then?"

"Juhuhuhuhuhu…" Hojo smirked, before snapping his fingers at one of the younger members. "Bring me The Stone!"

"Yes Captain!"

"…The Stone?" Kakeru echoed.

"Maybe it's a contest of strength!" Yoshito suggested, an image appearing in his mind of Kakeru struggling to lift a boulder as Hojo cackled at him. "Ooh, or maybe…" Another image appeared, this one of an even larger boulder rolling down a hill towards Kakeru as he ran away from it.

"Don't be silly, that's impossible," Kakeru scolded. When the young judo member returned, the two were surprised (and Yoshito disappointed) to see he was not carrying anything. Or so it appeared.

Hojo accepted a small object from the younger student. "Behold, The Stone!" he declared, holding…a pebble between his fingers. Ignoring or perhaps even oblivious to the looks this incited from the American football club members, Hojo explained. "Here is my challenge to you. I will give you THREE attempts to take The Stone from my hand…if you successfully do so, then I shall have my club assist yours. These are the terms, accept them or walk away!"

"Wait," Yoshito protested, "weren't you just criticizing us for playing an American sport? Isn't this-"

"Accepted," Kakeru answered.

"HEY!"

"Juhuhu…THE CHALLENGE BEGINS HERE!" Hojo proclaimed. Immediately, the other judo members formed a ring around he and Kakeru, about four meters in diameter. Yoshito was quickly yanked out of the ring. Hojo held the pebble forth in an open palm. "Alright…come take it, if you can!"

"Mmn…" Kakeru nodded, standing casually where he had been positioned prior to the ring being formed. With the small rock held so near him, he simply began to slowly reach for it with his right hand.

"Juhuhu…hu?" Hojo raised an eyebrow at this action. 'Is he simply going to act as if I'm going to let him take it? Maybe he's missed the point of this challenge…' As he finished this thought, Kakeru's arm shot across the remaining distance to Hojo's hand in an instant. 'Wait, WHAT!?' As Kakeru's grasping hand reached Hojo's, the judo captain's fingers closed over the pebble, and he yanked it back before Kakeru could try to snatch it. "JUHUHUHUHU! That's attempt number one, boy!"

Kakeru cocked his head slightly, before simply returning to original stance and waiting for Hojo to do the same. "You have strong hands," he commented.

"Juhu…Fool! It's not about strength, it's about speed! Your movements weren't fast enough to beat my reaction!" 'Though,' thought Hojo, 'he's faster than usual on the first time trying to grab it…and it felt weird just now, different from normal…What's the feeling I'm getting from this guy?'

"Sorry, Redhead-kun," one of the judo members in the circle who was standing next to Yoshito said to him. "Senpai won't be beat by your friend. Only the very best of the judo club members can beat him in this single contest. He uses it as a method of separating the elites from the ordinaries."

"Ha!" Yoshito laughed this comment off. "If what I've seen is all there is to this, then Kakeru will when no problem! You watch! I bet he gets it even this next time!"

'That…would be nice,' Kakeru thought to himself, before launching his hand forward again.

"Juhu! Too slow!" Hojo taunted, already closing his hand in response to the thrust. But suddenly, he felt a very slight pain and discomfort at the bases of his fingers, and great confusion fell over him in response to the sensation. "Wait, what-?" Turning his full attention to his hand, he saw that Kakeru had actually woven his fingers in between his own, and Kakeru's fingernails were barely scraping the flesh of his palm around The Stone. "Between the fingers!?"

"Ha! Told ya!" Yoshito pumped his fist in triumph.

'He…He aimed for the spaces between my fingers…I can't make a fist like this!' Another realization dawned on Hojo in that instant, as try as he might he couldn't close his fingers thanks to Kakeru's own blocking his movements. 'The little scratching feeling on my palm…I felt this before…He must've actually managed to get a finger or two on The Stone before I snatched it away! Who is this guy to have this weird skill!?'

"Hojo-senpai," Kakeru said, bringing the judo captain out of his thoughts, "I'll be taking this now." And with that, Kakeru squeezed his fingertips together, clamping around the pebble, and with just those two fingertips began to lift it up off of Hojo's palm.

'No way in hell!' Hojo growled under his breath, and suddenly clapped his left hand over his right, trapping the pebble and Kakeru's hand between both of his own. Then with a mighty jerk, he tore away from Kakeru, leaving him with no pebble and no grip on Hojo's hand. "That's…two! Juhuhu!" Despite his boast, Hojo looked rather shaken up by Kakeru's latest attempt.

"…You used two hands to stop me," Kakeru observed, staring at his own, single hand.

"So?" Hojo shot back. "I said you had three attempts to take The Stone…I never said what I could and couldn't do to stop you from taking it!"

"That's cheap!" Yoshito complained. "Using more hands than Kakeru gives him an unfair advantage!"

Some of the judo members objected. "It's not cheap, it's part of the test."

"Hojo-senpai gave him the same set of rules he gives every one of us. Part of the challenge is learning that there are very few rules."

"It's alright, Yoshito," Kakeru stated, returning to the same stance he had assumed prior to his first two attempts. "I'll get it this time."

"Then come and take it!" Hojo challenged, holding the pebble out for the third and final time. He had barely extended it when Kakeru's arm shot forward. 'So fast again!…But I've prepared for this now! No matter how fast you are, if you come with just one hand, you won't wrest The Stone from me!' Hojo brought his other hand down on the one that held the stone, at the same time closing his fingers around it. Not entirely unexpectedly, the second motion was hindered by Kakeru grasping his fingers. 'Heh, it doesn't matter! I'll have The Stone between my hands before you can grip it! You should've learned from last-'

Hojo felt his hand hit flesh – and not his own flesh. "…Huh?" The area in the inches surrounding the pebble was a tangle of fingers and palms. While Kakeru and Hojo's right hands were locked at the fingers, Hojo's left hand covered the pebble – with Kakeru's under it.

"YEAH!" rooted Yoshito, while the students surrounding him looked on in shock. In the instants that followed, Hojo understood what had happened.

'He moved his right hand forward just to grab my fingers, and…the grip's different! They're not woven together, he's just grabbing them, preventing me from grabbing The Stone instead of trying to grab it himself. And then, he moved his other hand forward and grabbed, faster than I could move my hand to cut him off! He's already got The Stone!'

"I've won," Kakeru declared simply. "You must assist us now."

"Ghh…not quite!" Hojo grimaced, and kept his hands tightly pressed together around Kakeru's. "You have to still take The Stone from my hand! It hasn't left my hand yet!"

"That is easily resolved." Kakeru immediately began tugging with his right hand, which despite Hojo's strong grip began to separate from the judo captain's hands.

"You think so!? Well let me teach you a lesson, American football boy! NEVER LOCK HANDS WITH A JUDO MASTER!" With that said, Hojo suddenly shifted his legs, stepping into Kakeru and turning while keeping their hands gripped together. With Kakeru at his back, Hojo tugged his arms down and bent over, throwing Kakeru over his shoulder. The football player landed hard on his back, and the air left his lungs all at once.

In that moment, it was silent in the ring, for three different reasons. For Yoshito and the judo club members, it was because of the brutal nature of the tactic Hojo had used. For Kakeru, it was because his lungs were empty. And for Hojo…it was because Kakeru's hand was still closed tight around the pebble. This quickly changed, as Hojo pried the football player's hand open, and the pebble was left in his hand.

"…Damn." Yoshito muttered. He planted his hands on his hips and uttered a few curses under his breath.

"You failed," Hojo stated simply. "Now get out." He turned, and began to walk away, leaving Kakeru on the ground catching his breath. "The rest of you, we have training to do!"

Yoshito sighed, before walking over to his friend. "Come on, Kakeru," he beckoned, "maybe we can get someone from, like, the crafts club or something."

"Wait," came another voice, and Kakeru looked up to see a hand being offered to him. He reached up and accepted it, and was pulled to his feet by a tall judo club member – even barely taller than Kakeru himself, with chin-length black hair that framed his face. "I want to help you."

Character intro: Uzumaki Katashi, age 15, first-year Taikyo student, judo club member

"…Eh?" Yoshito looked quite surprised. "But that guy said-"

"Hojo-senpai spoke of the specific conditions he set forward before your contest," Katashi stated, "he said that we would help you if you won…not that we would not if you lost. He did not state that the other members would be forbidden from volunteering to help."

"FINE, SEE IF I CARE!" Hojo shouted over his shoulder. "GO HELP THE FOREIGN SPORTS PLAYERS IF YOU WANT." He turned away, and after a moment, smiled very slightly. "Idiots…" '…But…I suppose you earned that much, with the struggle you gave me…'

"We have practice tomorrow," Kakeru stated, bent over with his hands on his knees as he still hadn't quite caught his breath. "Do you know where the American football field is?"

"Don't you find this weird at all!?" Yoshito looked bewildered.

"Out of curiosity," Kakeru ignored his friend, "what made you decide to help?"

Katashi smiled slightly in response. "The way you threw Hojo-senpai off-balance, and at the end held on even after that powerful throw…If that is the way you compete in an arena you are unfamiliar with, then I want to see the one you are used to. I want to see the kind of fight that happens in American football."

"AAAAAH!" From the other side of the room, Hojo suddenly screamed. "FOOL! DID YOU JUST SAY 'FIGHT'!?"

"…Ah…" Katashi looked guilty. He smiled apologetically. "…Oops."

"What's wrong with saying 'fight'?" Yoshito questioned.

Kakeru nodded. "It's the judo club…"

"Whenever someone says that word, he's bound to hear it!" Hojo covered his head with his hands as suddenly the doors leading into the dojo burst open, and a large, muscular man with short black hair entered.

"HAHA! HOJO, YOU HAVE DECIDED TO FIGHT ME AGAIN!?" The man shouted, just as loudly if not more loudly than Hojo had been yelling before. "It's about time! I was wondering if you had chickened out!"

"Wait! No, Watanabe, I wasn't the one who-!" Hojo was cut off by a flying kick to the stomach, knocking him back several feet and onto his back. "…said it."

"Oh, you weren't?" 'Watanabe' looked so casual that one might have never guessed that he had just KO'd the school's judo club leader with a single hit. "Well then, one of your other members, then? I will best any challenger!" He swept his gaze over everyone present in the dojo. "WHO SAID THEY WISHED TO FIGHT ME!?"

"Um…" Katashi hesitantly raised his hand. "I…said the word 'fight'." He barely managed to step to the side as 'Watanabe' launched another flying kick at him. "Wait, let me explain! I-I was talking about the opportunity for more fights!"

"Oh!?" 'Watanabe' looked rather excited by this prospect, his fist frozen in midair. "Where!?" Katashi unfortunately pointed towards Kakeru and Yoshito before giving a verbal response, and 'Watanabe' whirled on them. "WITH YOU TWO!?"

"Not…really." Kakeru said rather dully.

"You wouldn't fight with us!" Yoshito sputtered out desperately. "But, um- Well, actually you, would fight with us-WAITSTOPDON'T!" The muscular man again stopped his fist in midair, looking altogether very confused. "You um…would fight with us, but not against us. There would be other people to fight – possibly up to eleven at a time!"

"Ooh, this sounds interesting!" 'Watanabe' declared, scratching his chin. "Tell me, then, what I would have to do to fight these people!"

'He has a dangerous, one-track mind…But at least he's easily persuadable' Yoshito thought to himself, breathing a sigh of relief as it appeared that he wasn't going to get the utter snot beaten out of him.

"In two days, we will be playing an American football game," Kakeru said, looking to capitalize on the work Yoshito had done to capture the large student's interest. Up close, he could tell that despite his build, the man was most definitely their age – maybe younger. "American football is…a different kind of contest from a no-holds-bar fight, but it is still a violent sport."

"With eleven opponents at once?" 'Watanabe' asked. "I will take part in it, then!"

"Well, wait," Yoshito said, "before the game, you'll have to attend practice tomorrow afternoon."

"Ha! That is small price to pay for this grand opportunity you have given me!" 'Watanabe' grinned. "Tell me, my new friends, your names! I must know the names of the ones who have opened my eyes to this new kind of fight!" He gestured with a thumb to himself. "I am Watanabe Hiroto!"

Character intro: Watanabe Hiroto, age 15, first-year Taikyo student, no club

Yoshito looked at Kakeru, who was still looking up at Hiroto. Though the expression on his face was slight, not very noticeable, Yoshito saw it. He was barely smiling, just the slightest quirk of his otherwise straight lips. Seeing this, Yoshito broke out into a big grin, and looked up at Hiroto as well. "I'm Naki Yoshito, running back for Taikyo's American football team!"

"And I am Aoi Kakeru. The American football team's acting captain and wide receiver."

Gridiron: 1-yard line/End

Author's notes (by superscript number)

1: For those of you unfamiliar with the practice: replacing some of the digits of the date of a fictional event with X's is common in many mediums, particularly ones set in a present or future setting (works of fiction taking place in the past usually give you specific years and sometimes even days, on the other hand). It's an especially common practice in manga and other Japanese entertainment. The purpose is to basically ensure that the work will appear to take place in the present regardless of when it's being read (within a decade or so, at least) – this is particularly advantageous to a manga series that takes place over the course of say a year (like Eyeshield 21), but can take five or ten times longer or more to be completed, due to the nature of weekly releases.

2: One Japanese yen is only marginally less valuable than a US penny nowadays. So 50000 yen is basically 500 American dollars. Or more, maybe, depending on how deep this financial collapse takes us.

3: In every other part of the world but the United States, it's called football, not soccer. But because this is a story about American football and not that thing that Beckham and Adu and Zidane and all those people play, it's just going to be called soccer within the context of the story. Even though the focus sport is going to be called American football most of the time in the work, following the tradition of Eyeshield 21. Deal with it.

Now that that's out of the way, I'd like to introduce the 'bonus material page'. It's not really a page, per se…but, well, the idea is that it acts as the bonus material you see at the end of a chapter in a lot of manga – including Eyeshield 21. And uh…this explanation is going to be one of the few times I'm going to break the 'manga chapter' format of the story, since I really preferred it to be that way…Basically, I'm not going to be talking directly to you, the readers, very much. That is not to say that I don't appreciate your reviews, and promise to read every single one of them – I look forward to them with great anticipation. Anyways, without further ado…

Gridiron Player Bios Special 1!

Aoi Kakeru
Jersey Number:14
Position: Wide Receiver
Height: 5'10 1/5" (178 cm)
Weight: 174 lbs. (78 kg)
Last Year's American Football Tournament Statistics: 4 games (4 starts), 17 catches, 320 yards (avg. 18.8 yards/catch), 6 touchdowns
(Picture: Kakeru standing upright, wearing his black school uniform. His expression is rather blank, and he is staring off to the edge of the page.)

Naki Yoshito
Jersey Number: 26
Position: Halfback
Height: 5'4" (163 cm)
Weight: 145 lbs. (65 kg)
Last Year's American Football Tournament Statistics: 3 games (2 starts), 41 runs, 153 yards (3.7 yards/run), 2 touchdowns
(Picture: Yoshito standing with his legs spread, his uniform jacket unbuttoned and hanging loosely around his torso. He is looking directly out of the page and grinning, while holding two fingers of his left hand up to his forehead in a sort of salute.)