Of bets and departures
Notes: Written as an LJ Christmas Exchange, and haven't gotten around to post them here, so dumping for general enjoyment.
"Hiruma-kun?"
The blond-haired quarterback of Deimon American Football team grunted an impatient "Hmm" as a response to team manager's call, as though he was readying himself for another session of nagging from her. His eyes were fixed on the latest American Football Weekly, shipped all the way from the United States of America.
Could have been a normal sight if not for his recuperation capsule.
"You know.." Mamori seldom sounded so reserved before. There were times when she opens her conversation with Hiruma with a stern warning; sometimes a deafening yell; sometimes a piercing glare; but never a delicate greeting, especially when calling out his name.
"I asked the doctor today…" She was hesitating.
Hiruma forced another grunt, urging her to get straight to the point, which she normally does.
Mamori tightened her grip on the broom she was using as the cleaning tool for the post-celebration trashing of the changing room after they defeated Hakushuu Dinosaurs. She hadn't minded having to work the cleaning off alone (since the only people who would help her were Sena, Monta and Suzuna – and they were at the moment somewhere in Kansai trying to spy on the Alexanders); but there was one lingering worry that was troubling her.
"He was well, you know," Hiruma was beginning his own countdown to how long would it take before she spills out the real thing. The curiousity got the better of him, and he lifted his head to get a glimpse of what was she doing.
Mamori was hesitating so much, she was fidgeting.
Freaking fidgeting. And it was the fucking manager.
Hiruma never thought he could live to see the day that he would be able to see Mamori fidgeting while talking to him. She was everything to everyone else – mother, manager, sister; but for Hiruma she's always that fucking manager whose efficiency and intelligence had never failed him. It was the last of the possible sights of her that he thought he would see.
Though he had seen her in a more intense moment than this. It was when her face wore an expression of fear and despair. Tears of devastation fell down her red burning cheeks, and hopeless gazes were shot from her eyes. The times when she was tending to him, wrapping his injured arms; then it was listening to the doctor's diagnosis – it was as though everything she's been doing was for his sake, and not just for the team's sake.
"Just spill it, will you?"
"You know better than to try badly to hide anything from me."
Mamori began her defensive stance. "What are you talking about, Hiruma-kun?"
"I wasn't hiding anything! I was just trying to tell you that you need more rest that you are currently undertaking!"
The capsule that Hiruma was using as though it was a wheelchair suddenly appeared right in front of Mamori, so swift that it might as well be teleported.
'Do you think I really need more rest? The Christmas Bowl is just less than two weeks. Don't tell me you don't want the team to win?"
That's it. Trust Hiruma to take Mamori's good intention and turn it into her trying to sabotage the team.
"You know, Hiruma-kun," she began to speak in a harsher tone, "You know I never have anything but the best, absolute best for the team, and I find that it's seriously rude to even suggest that I might have any thoughts of –"
"Your worries might be misplaced, fucking manager." His back was now facing Mamori, and his eyes were focusing on another issue of American Football Weekly, presumably trying to verify one certain information that he just found interesting on the latest issue.
"We will win. I don't do anything but win." These words were followed by a sinister laugh.
"And if you don't?"
"I'll listen to you." Now he faced her again, which makes Mamori surprised at the flexibility of the capsule. "If we do win, you'll do one thing for me."
Mamori was dumbfounded. "Could your bets be at least more original?"
There was a quieter, but definitely more sinister laugh. "It's not for you to decide how original it is, fucking manager."
Mamori had decided that Hiruma's bets were quite original after all.
It was the post-Christmas Bowl party, and everyone was around to celebrate the miraculous win that the Deimons salvaged from the deepest depths of despair that they had ever felt.
Though the party was in many ways a commemoration of many things first for Deimon – the first time everyone felt that close to losing; the first time anyone from Kantou defeated Teikoku; the first that the caught up in a game that late – but the second that Mamori had lost to Hiruma in a bet. In an aftermath to this darker aspect of the happiness, she made a mental note to not bet with Hiruma ever again.
But she also made a note to herself to find some ways in which Hiruma could actually be controlled, even if she knows the futility of doing so more clearly than anyone else.
Best testament was of course, this very task he entrusted to her.
"I'm heading to the United States of America." Or so he said.
Mamori wondered what exactly he was asking from her.
"Just keep this shut." And that was his answer.
She couldn't think of a reason why.
"I don't have to tell you, fucking manager." Cue: sinister laughter. Again.
She wanted to smash his head with something. Anything she could grab hold off.
Then she asked him why he was heading there.
"What else? To spy of course!" Mamori was thinking how the firearms he was arranging at the moment seemed rather useless in a spying mission.
"Mamo-neechan?"
Suzuna tapped her on her shoulder.
"You don't seem happy, is something troubling you?"
Trust Suzuna to have the sharpest of perceptions. "No, I am enjoying every moment of the party! We are the National Champions!" She wasn't faking her feelings, but it was Hiruma's next few moves for the night that was actually making her ponder; other than knowing that he would leave tonight, she knew nothing else. She had a nasty feeling that it wouldn't be something predictable.
"Why don't you join Sena and Monta instead? They look like they were calling you." Suzuna turned towards the said boys Mamori just mentioned.
"I'll see you in a while!" Suzuna flashed her wink before she headed to join Sena and Monta who are trying to out-eat a combination of Komusubi and Kurita, Taki and Akaba singing nearby trying to cheer these two Deimon heroes on. Mamori smiled. Clearly Sena and Monta must have gulped a little too much alcohol, to the point where their soberness thresholds were overcame.
The truth is that Mamori had never seen a happier scenario. Everyone, from everywhere came in to celebrate.
The left table from Sena and Monta's were Gaou and Ootowara plus the other linesmen engaging in another eating battle. To another table next to them was a few Shinryuuji linesmen making fun of Ikkyuu alongside Mizumachi with Kakei trying to tell Mizumachi that he should really put his shirt on because it's winter. And then the other side of the room was Juumonji, Kuroki and Toganou having a Shonen Jump trivia contest with some Teikoku third stringers who happened to have impeccably vast knowledge in manga. She saw Shin doing sit-ups by himself at the corner. Then there was Unsui and Takami having a strategy meeting with Kid, Yamato and Taka, with Tetsuma faithfully close to Kid.
And Hiruma was nowhere to be seen.
She carefully sneaked out, after throwing a last glance at the massive crowd, to a place where she knew he would be.
And there he was – getting ready for a take off with his private jet.
"Ah, you are here. Great."
"Is your arms already better?"
"And you came here just to ask that? I thought my performance in the Christmas Bowl was enough to tell you that nothing could sink me."
Mamori smiled at how he seemed to know everything she wanted to say.
"Alright, you win."
"I wondered if leaving so quietly is your style."
Hiruma sat inside his jet, positioning himself. "Why not?"
"Don't tell me you think I'm the type of person who reveals to everyone his plans."
"No. I'm just saying that while you could be sneaky when you want to, you are normally rather flashy after you tease people with some hints."
He sniggered. "Really?"
"Remember to not tell anyone about the World Cup and my departure, fucking manager."
"Why not, Hiruma-kun?" Her voice steady, demanding – she always understood his reasons, but not this time.
"Isnt it obvious?" He laughed.
"Because it's not my job, fucking manager. You'll see in a while."
With that, the jet's engine accelerated on a blasting sound, and Hiruma was off to the skies.
A few seconds later, she heard an exploding sound as though some things were detonating one after another. After realizing what it could be, she rushed outside –
Just to find herself staring into a sky filled with glittery flowers, shining brightly illuminating the moon. One flower by one, bursting with transient splendor that might vanish after a few seconds but would still awe people no matter how many times it was shown.
The men in the room were busying themselves with the sight of the beautiful fireworks; but Mamori's mind was on Hiruma's departure.
He definitely was a much deeper man than anyone perceived.