No Copyright Infringement Intended.

If I owned Eyeshield 21, HiruMamo should have happened but since it didn't, we could therefore conclude that I in fact don't own Eyeshield 21

Mamori Anezaki, the angel of Tokyo was behaving odd that day. To be honest, she was slightly off for the couple of weeks. Of course, everyone who is anyone made it their sole mission to pry on her and ask what was going on. At first she found it overwhelming that a lot of people actually cared about her. But after almost half of the campus' population pried on her, she kind of took the whole thing out of proportion.

Normally, the alleged devil of the Saikyoudai University or should I say whole Japan wouldn't care about things that doesn't involve American football. But she was and is her fucking manager and he associated her with every bits of the sport. So it was only logical for him to threaten every annoying person to just fuck off and they did.

Saikyoudai's American football clubhouse was empty except for the devil and the angel. Every member of the team was smart enough to leave the room as soon as an odd, short tempered Mamori and a gun-toting sadist Hiruma was inside the four wall room.

The two went on in their normal routines for the day. Not talking, or even having a glimpse of each other even for a second. No, they hadn't had a fight which was the most surprising thing of all. It's just that something was different between them, or at least that was what Mamori was thinking about. She took a pause from all of her paper work and sighed heavily.

The echo of the sigh made Hiruma paused for a millisecond and went back into typing into his laptop. His ears tweaked when he heard her stood up to leave the clubhouse. It was then he took his chance to close his laptop and blocked the door, stopping her trance.

"Spill" his voice was commanding.

Her body posture lumped, indicating that she was tired. But tired of what?

"I just wanna go home, Hiruma" her voice was soft that he almost didn't heard her.

He blew a bubble and popped it, as if trying to cover up the tension between them with the sound of his bubble popping. They both stood there at the front of the door with Hiruma blocking the way for at least a minute not knowing what to do or what to say. She shifted her weight between her two feet and he kept blowing those pesky bubbles.

"What do you want?!" she finally shouted, tears streaming down her face. She looked up at him in the process, looked directly at his eyes. It wasn't the first time that he saw her cry, but the scene was still mortifying in his soul. But he didn't let that fact get out of his poker face anyway. He was after all, Hiruma Youichi. What's wrong was what he wanted to say. What can I do was what should had left his mouth. But instead he said:

"Fucking spill it" and then she slapped him, hard. Just like the time he handed her that letter a year and so months ago back in high school. She was the only one who dared to slap him, twice. Before he could regain his composure, he felt her lips on his cheek.

"I like you Hiruma, that's what's wrong. I like you and I don't even know how or why. I just do."

It was then he grabbed her left wrist and handcuffed her along with his left wrist.

"Wha…"

"Tche. I'll give you 10 seconds to get the fuck out of this handcuff, if you can't then you're my fucking girlfriend." Then he opened the door behind him and got out of the clubhouse, dragging Mamori along of course.

"Hey stop moving!" Mamori stated between relief and annoyance.

R&R