Heart's Desire
When strange things occur, feelings can be discovered.
Mamori was hard at work with her usual chores. When she worked by herself, it was easy to focus on the task at hand, but she would be lying if she said it didn't get a little lonely sometimes. Mamori stepped back a took a sweeping glance at the floor. It shone.
"Such a harworking girl," a sympathetic voice said from behind her. Mamori whipped around to find a blonde young man sitting at the table, eyes closed, drinking a cup of tea.
No, it wasn't Hiruma. The guy's long blonde hair was a pure shade of silky yellow she didn't know existed.
"Can I... help, you?" Mamori was uncertain of the appearance of the strange man. He finally opened his eyes to look at her. They were such a sharp, deep blue that Mamori flinched.
"I don't think so," he set his cup down and smoothed a wrinkle out of his white suit. "But since you started conversation, why don't we have a little chat?" He gestured a slender hand for her to sit. Mamori nervously tucked strands of hair behind her ear. His appearance was so inviting it made Mamori wary.
He was too beautiful.
He offered a smile and gestured again. Won't you sit down?
"I must continue working," she gripped her mop tightly.
"I don't think you can make the floor sparkle any brighter," he chuckled, "why don't you sit down?" Mamori fidgeted away.
"Sit down," he turned his hand so his palm faced down. She backed into a chair which promptly shoved itself to the table. Yes, shoved itself. Had that chair always been in the way?
"You need to relax," he offered her a cup of tea and poured it from the oriental pot on the table. The steam of the tea curled into wisps.
She picked it up and gave it a tentative sniff. It smelled delicious. Did people use poison these days? Mamori couldn't be sure. She took a fake sip and stopped.
"Ah, is it good?" the man smiled faintly.
"It is," Mamori took another sip, quietly observing the man. He couldn't have been a perspective player or he would have said something. Though she couldn't imagine him coming to the American Football clubhouse for any other reason. The man ran a finger over his cup and gave her a smile.
"Am I that interesting?" he let out a low chuckle.
"Sorry," Mamori stared into her cup, a mixture of embarrassment and fear, "I was just trying to figure out who you are."
"You could have asked," he picked up his cup.
"It seemed rude at the time."
The man drank from his cup once more, "I personally believe it doesn't really matter who I am, the important fact is that I sell things."
"A salesman? What do you sell?" Mamori asked, trying to buy some time.
The man flashed a pointed smile, "I sell many things, but I'm very selective of who I sell to."
"Ah," Mamori felt she was becoming increasingly uneasy.
"Wondering what I sell?" his chuckle sounded like little bells.
Mamori unconsciously stiffened at the sound of his laugh, "I don't have enough money to even be interested in buying something." The man grinned once more.
"You have something very valuable," he looked back in his cup, drinking from it once more. "You could buy quite a bit."
"I have?" she looked down at her uniform for a piece of jewelry she might be wearing.
"Your soul," he set down his cup. Mamori let out a twittery laugh, hoping what he said was a joke. But his eyes stared up at her expectantly. Mamori clenched her hand around her cup. Her soul? Was he some sort of madman?
"It's quite valuable you know," he broke eye contact and poured himself more tea. "Pure, filled with nurturing love and a strong sense of justice." He sipped his tea with a dreamy expression. "Covetous."
Mamori's felt her hand tremble. She didn't know what to believe.
"I-I don't think there's anything I would give my soul for," Mamori did her best to clear her throat and to push up out of her chair. The chair wouldn't budge an inch.
"But you don't know what I'm selling," the man sounded sad.
"W-what do you sell?" Mamori didn't want to know. His grin grew large. The moment he had been waiting for.
"Desires."
For the first time since she met the man, Mamori realized how sharp and pointed the man's teeth truly were.
"You can pay for you desires in full, I think," he seemed to be searching for something in her eyes once again.
"I don't have any desires," Mamori mustered the courage to say.
"You do," he touched the surface of his tea with a long fingernail. "I can see them in your heart." The murky brown color of the tea became inky black. The man smoothed another wrinkle out of his suit as he started intently into the cup.
"Ah, your greatest desire," he whirled a hand over the cup.
"Y-you can see my desires?" she clutched her heart.
"Would you like to see?" He glanced up at her, the color of the tea reflecting on his face. She leaned in to get a glimpse of the tea, then sat back.
"No," she said plainly. The tea reverted to its original color.
"Aw," he gave her a teasing smile, "you aren't just a little curious to see what your heart wants most?"
"I don't have any desires," Mamori said willfully, "I have goals to work for, but not desires."
"Desires, goals," his blue eyes were filled with mirth, "I have always found them to be two different things, hm?" Mamori knew this couldn't end well. The man touched the tea in her cup and the liquid in the two cups turned inky once more.
"Shall we have a look in your heart?" he rotated his hand once more.
Mamori watched as the black shifted into a green football field. Snowflakes clung to the air and the players on the field. They ran and pushed against each other as the quarterback made a pass. The Devilbats. And they were playing an important game.
"The Christmas Bowl," Mamori breathed. This was her greatest desire, for the devilbats to make it to the Christmas Bowl.
"This is an unusually simple request to be lusted for so strongly," the man stared into the cup, "but I can grant it."
"No!" Mamori said immediately. The man raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I desire that the team make it," Mamori felt embarrassed about the outburst, "but even if you could grant it, it would be a hollow, meaningless, victory."
"I suppose," the man sighed, giving up surprisingly easily, "but this means we'll have to dig deeper into your heart." He waved a hand over the tea. A frown appeared on his face.
"Creampuffs?" the man pushed his face in until his eye was almost touching the cup. He waved his hand over it again, "that can't be right." Mamori blushed and began sipping her tea even though it was still projecting the image of the pastry. She could hear Hiruma's mocking voice in her head.
"No matter," the man tapped the tea cup with a fingernail, returning the surface to the black color.
"I suppose that means I don't have anymore desires," Mamori tried to hide the sigh of relief.
"No, that just means I must search even more diligently through your heart," he slowly circled a hand over the tea, "hidden deep beneath treasured memories will surely be more desires. I just found the ones that dominate your heart."
Mamori watched as the cup in her hands flashed more images. Little Sena and Riku. Musashi smoking in the middle of the school hall. Sena making it into Deimon. Yelling at Hiruma for bullying Sena. Trying to put a bandage on Hiruma's swollen knee. Finding out Sena was Eyeshield 21. Hiruma having her name called at the Bandou game. Hiruma taking blackmail footage. Hiruma teasing her with cream puffs. Hiruma protecting her from Gaou. Hiruma signing instructions to her. Hiruma, Hiruma...
Hiruma.
"Ah~," the man looked pleased with himself, "such a deeply hidden desire, hiding the very corner of your heart."
"This desire isn't mine," Mamori protested, pushing the cup away from her, "I don't want Hiruma-kun."
"It's not a question of if you want him or not," the man rubbed his chin, "your heart has already spoken. It's a question of whether or not you wish to buy."
"I can't buy- You can't sell- I don't want-" Mamori's brain was flustered and confused. He couldn't sell people and she couldn't give up her soul to buy anyone. She couldn't believe he could even take her soul. She couldn't believe she wanted Hiruma!
"I see you are troubled," he put his hand over hers. To Mamori's discomfort, they were disturbingly warm. He gave her a pitying look. "Some of my other clients couldn't believe they had such desires either. But it was always worth it for them in the end."
"Always?" Mamori's eyes were swimming with confusion. He gave her a nod. Such a desire... could not be hers, could it?
Mamori's hand clenched into a fist. She remembered her first and foremost desire. The Christmas Bowl.
"I'm sorry, I think this is a mistake," she gave her best smile, pulling her hand out from under his, "I believe my first goal you saw was the one I need to focus on. I don't think this, distraction, is a real desire."
"But the tea-" he pointed to the cup.
"Was very good and I thank you for it," Mamori stood up out of her seat, "but you must excuse me, I have some other duties to attend to." She made a bee line for the door.
"Oh, and Salesman-san?" Mamori turned to look at him. He raised his eyebrow once more.
"I hope you are gone by the time I return," her smile was infinitely cold, "I would hate to throw out a guest." The man gave a slow nod and collected smile.
"I shall be gone by the time you return."
Mamori opened the door only to run into Hiruma. Mamori didn't know how much more she could take.
"Manager," Hiruma looked mildly annoyed, though only for looks, "I hope you were going to get the forms I asked for."
"Right away," Mamori stormed past him with a righteous fury. Hiruma let out a small chuckle as he watched her leave. He shut the door behind himself and turned to the table. The man was still sitting there, drinking his tea.
"Who are you?" Hiruma did not bother with niceties. The man set down his cup, not answering.
"I suppose it doesn't matter too much," Hiruma cackled. He sat down in front of the man. Hiruma picked up the tea and looked at his brown reflection. The man's seemed to snap open wide as Hiruma touched the cup and picked up his own.
"Interesting," the man let his fingers slide over the rim of his cup, "you are filled to the brim with desire and passion. You hide it well."
"Kekeke, winning will do that for you," Hiruma grinned and set the cup down.
"I suppose winning also gives you a strong sense of loyalty?" the man smirked at Hiruma. Rather than wait for a retort, the man changed topics, "what would you say if I could fulfill the desires of your heart?"
Hiruma's pointy teeth were on display in a broad smirk, "I'd say you were lying or crazy."
"We shall see," the man touched the surface of the teas and they turned inky black. A football field appeared.
"How peculiar," the blonde man stared into the cup, "you have the same desire as the young lady." Hiruma looked into the cup.
"Fancy parlor trick," Hiruma poured the tea onto the table. It instantly turned into normal tea. The brown liquid raced for the edges to fall to the ground, but it never quite made it. "You must have SOME kind of resources if you know I play football."
"Sarcasm," the man smiled brightly, "what a delightful defense tactic. But from the girl's reaction, I cannot grant this desire. Let us continue the search." The man continued to wave a hand over his tea. His face was etched with concentration as his tea flashed with memories until his hand stopped moving. He stared up at Hiruma with a smug pointy grin. His teeth were like little razors.
"From your memories, I gather you like to bluff."
Hiruma cackled again, "so sharp, aren't you? Well, what is it going to be this time?"
The man touched the pool of tea on the table and it turned inky black. Then Mamori's smiling face appeared on the table.
"The biggest bluff you ever made," reveled in his victory. Hiruma stared down at the large picture on the table with no expression.
"Ah, it won't do me any good, hanging around here," the man stood up. "How can I collect souls from a place like this, where people fulfill their own dreams, or refuse to believe they have desires. This kind of environment is no good."
Hiruma finally grinned, "kekeke, you almost had me there. Souls? What are you, some kind of demon?"
The man flashed an equally large grin, "I haven't been called that in ages, though I prefer other names." Hiruma did not falter at the confession of the demon.
"Desire of my heart? The manager? Kekekekekekekekekeke!" Hiruma mocked the man.
"You can try to bluff," he had not stopped smiling, "but I have seen your heart in its most defenseless form. You cannot deny it." He began depositing the tea pot and cups into an inside pocket of his jacket.
"You bluff worse than I do," Hiruma pointed at him, still retaining a gleeful expression, "in reality you only have a guess and no support." The demon stopped and closed his jacket.
"Then why does your heart turn at the thought of her?" he touched Hiruma's chest with a finger. His finger pushed a cold feeling throughout Hiruma's body. The demon released and buttoned his jacket. There were no tea pot sized lumps in his jacket. Or any lumps for that matter.
"Shall I give you my number?" he handed Hiruma a business card, "when you decide you want the girl?"
"If I ever did want that idiot manager I could get her myself," Hiruma said bluntly.
"Oh hoh," the demon hadn't grinned like this in a long time, "please continued to believe this. Please believe this when she gets her first boyfriend. Please believe this as she stands at the altar, hand in hand with another man. Then perhaps you'll call me." He walked out the door and disappeared into the day.
Hiruma stared at the card long and hard before ripping it into tiny little pieces.
"Tch. Not if I get her to the altar first."