Title : Idol
Author : Baka-Yohko
Fandom : Eyeshield 21.
Couple (?) : None
Disclaimer : Nothing's mine, sob
Yoichi Hiruma had never been able to bear Idols.
No, not a fat-gilded-cow-like representation. Idol is the name given to poor girls that become stars for less than a month in Japan, with the casual hype, her name written on every Shinjuku building, million CDs sold, her photo in every tabloid and printed on mugs.
Somehow very similar to former Star Academy students in France. I guess now you understand what I'm talking about. Right.
Anyways, Hiruma hated those talentless, bound to be forgiven, pre-pubescent kids, scarce exceptions put aside.
Ironically, Hiruma had his own idols.
As a kid, it had been his father. Something he is relentlessly trying to forget, currently.
Then an american football champion. He would never have imagined that it would shape his life.
A primary school sempai. …Huh, what was his name ?
And, when he entered grammar school, the Revelation. Mind the capital R. The one that would be his model fot the best and the worst.
And more particularly the last one.
Tokiwa-sensei.
His teacher hadn't impressed him the first time they had met. Already boisterous, he had taken over the seat in the bottom of the classroom, throwing out bare handedly the moron that had dared sitting here. Difficult to guess his age, straight shoulders, looking good-natured, wearing a smart suit. Quite a nice guy in the end.
Yet, surprisingly, when his the boy to his right, an arrogant, bumptious looking kid cracked a childish joke about the glasses of a girl, the teacher evoked peacefully a hilarious anecdote regarding a youngster that had ended almost naked on his house's roof in mid-winter. The kid blushed and kept his mouth shut till the end of the year.
Each time a pupill seemed to cause him any trouble, an embarassing memory emerged.
He was his idol.
Hiruma was simply thrilled by his teacher's swindlings. One day, after the class, he stood in front of Tokiwa-sensei and asked him really seriously how could he possibly be aware of so many crispy details.
He didn't forget to say "please".
The man burst out laughing loudly, his laugh echoing in the deserted classroom, and he sat at his desk, taking out a hankerchief to wipe off the tears accumulated in his eyelids corners.
- Acquaintance is everything, Hituma-kun, he confessed. I know all of your former teachers, some of them were my pupills. It wasn't really difficult, at the beginning of the schoolyear, to gather some intelligence.
He closed his eyes, like he did each time he was seeking in his memory. This was the ultimate way to discover weather one was on the verge of beeing blown or not.
- My mother, he started again, always told me : "if you want to know someone, first learn what he is ashamed of". I am applying this as much as I can. I memorize everything and I just recall it when I need it.
- You know a bunch of things about everybody, don't you ? wondered Hiruma.
- Yeah, I know quite a lot of things, smiled the teacher. And you should do the same, in my humble opinion.
The pre-teen had a nasty smile. He would undoubtly stick to this wonderful advice.
- But, continued Tokiwa-sensei, interrupting his machiavellian thoughts, don't forget one thing : friendship creates more solid bonds than threads.
The student's questionning gaze made the teacher develop his warning.
- If one day, you end up in a hazardous situation, only a friend will help you out. The others will let you go down remorselessly, hoping you suffer too much to make them pay for what they did.
Hiruma nodded. Just like his sister and her countless boyfriends, in the end.
- I'll remember this. Thanks professor.
And so begun the beginning of his quest for compromising intelligence. Poking his nose into whatever he could, trying to eavesdrop whenever he had the opportunity, he managed pretty easily to learn everything he wanted. Yet, remained one thing. He couldn't get to remember everything.
This problem bothered him for weeks.
As he was searching his sister's underwear drawer in order to find her diary so he could blackmail her, he got the idea.
A notebook.
Non, not a notebook.
THE notebook.
A huge grin recovered his face (he had loved Jack Nicholson's in Batman), and he ran to his parent's drawing room to find out one of those leather diaries his mother liked so much. He locked himself in his bedroom with his booty, and laid his treasure on his desk. The school's rogue's gallery of MPs was cut out with an infinite care. It took him the whole night, but in the morning, it was over.
A massive destruction weapon was born.
Feverlishly, he took his pen and wrote on the blank cover, those words whose sight would soon make every sensible person grow pale, blemish, collapse.
Threat Book.
-Fin-