This is my first ever Eyeshield 21 fanfiction. I don't know what happened, it just kind of tore itself from my mind.
(For any of you that have me on author alert expecting a Hetalia story, I'm sorry, this probably isn't what you are looking for. Doesn't mean you shouldn't read it though.)
So yeah, this idea rooted itself in my mind whilst reading the fall tournament arc for E21 (a wonder manga I recently discovered) and just wouldn't let go of me. I know I should be writing other stuff right now, but, well, this demanded it be written.
I hope it's in-character.
Please let me know what you think?
Warnings: light swearing (it's Hiruma, c'mon) and possible spoilers. Also HiruSena if you squint (and I mean really squint).
Enjoy.
Contrary to popular belief, Hiruma Yoichi was not completely immune to fear.
Not that he would admit that, of course.
It was something he strived to keep to himself, for what would become of the world if it was known that the unshakable demon quarterback from Deimon High could be unsettled by something as common as being scared.
But perhaps being scared wasn't quite the right way to describe it. Being scared suggested that there was an element of surprise to the fear; a moment of uncertainty. But the fear that coiled in the back of Hiruma Yoichi's mind wasn't born of surprise or uncertainty, since the blonde quarterback did not get caught by such trivial emotions. Instead it burned with the unshakable realization of what was to come.
Hiruma Yoichi was going to get defeated.
The fear first reared its frightening, imposable head at the sight of Seibu's steadfast quick-draw quarterback lying in a heap of broken limbs and spilt blood behind his conquered line.
And the fear stayed, rooted in the corner of his mind, a bitter taste in the back of his throat which he found impossible to swallow.
It wasn't that Hiruma had felt anything towards the logical, if cynical, man. It was merely that at that moment, Hiruma could all too easily picture himself on that same stretcher, being carried off in mind-numbing pain. A broken, useless arm at his side.
He let his team believe that he was wholly unaffected by the Hakushuu and Seibu game's result. That he wasn't already making adjustments to their upcoming game's strategy. That he wasn't planning for the inevitable moment when he would get broken.
He was the unshakable Hiruma Yoichi, he did not plan to get defeated.
But plan he did. With the cold, hard certainty of fear nipping at his heals, he planned.
And it was with a start that he realized that the growing fear wasn't just directed at himself, but also at his exceptional, irreplaceable team. He was planning for when he couldn't lead them any more, ensuring to the best of his ability that they could go on to secure their own victory. The fear that shifted in the back of mind also rose up at the idea of one of the little brats getting torn to pieces by the Hakushuu team. He wanted to protect them so that they wouldn't need to feel the same pain Hiruma knew he was going to experience.
When the fuck did that happen?
Even he himself, the great demon tactician, couldn't answer that. But the realization was undeniably true.
Funny, what fear can do to a person.
And the fear remained; coiled tightly as he handed his planned instructions to the stubborn manager; reacting harshly as she ripped the papers to shreds; pulsing placidly as he realized she would put them back together when the time was needed; and spiking dangerously as Hakushuu's Gaou smashed through Deimon's line seconds before he was knocked down.
So this is fear.
The cold, small knot of fear Hiruma had felt before was nothing compared to this overwhelming wave that washed over him as he was caught by Gaou's large, devastating tackle.
All of his tactics, all of his cunning strategies, were powerless when faced with pure, destructive force.
And as he lay there on the field, trying desperately to talk but finding himself incapable of doing so, the pain intensifying and fuck, it was the right arm, he knew there was nothing more he could do but leave the game to his team.
He yielded to the darkness and grudgingly allowed oblivion to overtake him.
The fear didn't dissipate though. Instead it seemed like its entire focus had shifted to concentrate on the Deimon Devil Bats. On the team mates he had left to fight a losing battle. On the friends who's Christmas Bowl dream was fast fading. On the small, frail pipsqueak he entrusted as Deimon's second quarterback.
They were all in danger of being broken.
Vaguely awake, floating in a sea of throbbing pain, Hiruma's thoughts wouldn't stay silent.
It was over for him, he couldn't possibly go out there and continue playing, so why was his entire being screaming to be back on the field? His arm was broken, there was no way he could throw a ball, let alone face another tackle. Yet this fear – or perhaps it was something else now – was calling him back to his team.
Hiruma Yoichi never backed away from a challenge. And protecting his team while he himself could barely stand would indeed be a challenge. A near impossible one.
Those were the kinds of odds Hiruma thrived on.
The fear seemed to be more of a raw kind of determination now, pushing back the pain to the point that he could stand up. And that was all he needed. If he could stand, he could play, and if he could play, he could lead his team to victory.
The damn manager tried to stop him, and Hiruma couldn't understand how she could be so concerned with his own safety when the safety of the entire team – of her precious Sena – was at risk out there on the field. He was already crippled, and the binding tape on his arm wouldn't fix anything, but there was still a chance for the others.
His fear told him to get out there and make sure that they hadn't been broken too.
And somehow, despite the pain that threatened to push him under at any moment, he returned to his team.
It was like a piece of a puzzle finally returning to complete the picture. Just seeing them unbroken and mostly unharmed caused the fear to ebb and the pain to subside. Hiruma never realized how much effect his team could have on him. The Deimon Devil Bats truly were a co-dependent entity.
They may have been facing a seemingly insurmountable enemy, but they were together again. Hiruma knew their chances of success only hovered just above zero, but that was enough for him. This team was capable of fighting, capable of overcoming, capable of winning.
And win they did.
Behind overconfident smiles and brash laughter, Hiruma filed away the feeling of fear for future reflection. He had always considered it as a weak and unnecessary emotion, but somehow it had brought forth an intensity for him that he had never thought possible.
A year ago he wouldn't have even entertained the idea of stepping on that field knowing the Hakushuu team were planning to physically break him. His own safety would have ranked far higher than the success and protection of his team, Christmas Bowl dream or not.
But somehow Hiruma had found himself not only playing the game despite that threat, but coming back with a broken arm to risk even greater injury because, well, because his team needed him.
Perhaps it wasn't solely fear he had felt. Perhaps there was something… else.
Not that he would admit that, of course. For what would become of the world if they knew that the unshakable demon quarterback Hiruma Yoichi actually felt affection.