Title: There's Something About Youichi
Disclaimer: ES21 not mine! Rivers of sadness etc. This is also a humour and parody fic so there is mild OOCness on the part of everyone but the team captain (hopefully).
Summary: Mamori, Sena and Musashi all battle for a certain quarterback's affections. Poor Hiruma just wants to play football.
Hiruma sat alone in the clubhouse, tapping away at his laptop. He'd gone from a graphic user interface to a command line interface at the start of the year in order to strengthen his throwing arm. The old man had warned him about getting carpal tunnel, but the Devil didn't get pathetic nerd diseases like that. Although come to think of it, his left wrist did hurt a bit. He paused briefly, rubbing the tendons with his thumb and rotating it a little. Maybe it would be good to start typing cross-handed for the next half hour or so.
The quarterback tabbed between articles he'd downloaded from the online magazine archive that he--or rather, the principal's credit card--had subscribed to earlier that year. Whether the Devil Bats realised it or not, a lot of their wins rode on the reports posted in a number of crappy sports issues, along with score boxes listed in newspapers. Numbers, that was half the game right there--numbers. You needed a strong will, and raw ability, and technique, sure, but it was all useless without a good grasp of the strategies people relied on predictably, over and over. Like playing chess with human bodies. "Kekekekeke." He laughed over the image.
Hiruma tabbed over to the next .pdf, letting his eyes scan over the list of statistics before copying them over to the spreadsheet he'd listed as poseidon.xls and inputting the proper equations into the cells where required. He'd considered teaching the fucking manager how to do this but it was still early in the season and he wasn't quite sure about the girl yet. She needed to find out about the Eyeshield thing eventually. When she did they would see where her true loyalties were, and how dedicated she'd actually become to the game. Besides, this was an important duty. Better to get it done himself.
The demon noted some movement out of the corner of his eye. The door was opening. He reached for his gun--but it was just the pipsqueak. Oh well, now that he was holding it-- he fired a round into the air. "Fucking chibi, hit the showers and go home now. I want you to get eight hours of sleep exactly. Miss out on even ten minutes and it'll be double laps in the morning." Come to think of it, the boy should have gone home hours ago. Was he doing extra training or what? Well, it was about time the kid started getting serious. Hiruma fired a few more rounds into the air for good measure. But the boy didn't mutter apologies or make small rodent noises and run away like he usually did. Instead he walked right up next to him and tried to peer over his shoulder.
"Hiruma-san, I came tonight because I wanted to see if you'd gone home." Hiruma felt a pair of hands fall on his shoulders. Was the kid... trying to give him a backrub? "You work so hard... I'm worried about you... we all are..."
"The fuck?!" Hiruma spluttered. He slammed his laptop shut, wrenched out of the kid's grip, and pointed an uzi in his face. "The hell's your fucking problem?"
"It's your parents, isn't it? Nee-san told me... after the game your father called and she got the message by accident... you don't have a home, do you, Hiruma-san? Uhm... I was wondering... it's taken a lot of courage for me to say this, but... would you like to come home with me? Or..." The boy took a tentative step forward, "...I could stay here... tonight..."
Hiruma simply stared. The fucking pipsqueak was out of his mind. Or this was a nightmare. A really disturbing dream brought on by one too many body-building shakes and bowls of expired instant ramen that he'd been living off of for the past six weeks. And they said that gaining muscle was easy.
Sena took another step forward, batting his eyelids coquettishly. His small frame was shivering with emotion. It would be rather sweet, if Hiruma was, well, into the tiny and submissive type. "You know, you can run..." His voice trembled with emotion here, "...but I'll catch you."
The quarterback weighed the odds concerning how this could end. He needed the running back to get touchdowns and play an offensive game. Eyeshield 21 was essential to the bulk of the plays he had worked out pretty much indefinitely all the way up to the Christmas Bowl. But he didn't need the kid... that way. And he was pretty sure he hadn't done anything to deserve this!
Meanwhile, Sena was in the process of removing his clothing. "You don't even need to say anything. I know that isn't your way. Just... go ahead!" The kid laid back on the roulette table with his pants off and the top buttons of his shirt undone. "I know you want to dominate me, I've seen it in your eyes, and I know you have a heart, deep down, so go ahead, I'm already ready for you!"
Hiruma tilted his head, absolutely out of words. He licked his lips. He considered what to do. He could fire his gun and tell the kid to get out of here. But then the boy would be sulking and brokenhearted and maybe he'd stop scoring downs for him just out of spite. Or even worse, go and cry to the fucking manager... Hiruma groaned. Sure, he'd smoked a bit of pole in his time, but scrawny first-years weren't exactly his type...