Something Interesting
Clackity-clackity-clackity-clackity.
Anezaki Mamori listened to Hiruma's incessant typing. He was most likely looking up the most recent stats of the Oujou White Knights and perhaps some semblance of dirt on Oujou's number one player: Sejuro Shin.
Mamori noticed as she tided up from their recently adjourned club meeting that Hiruma's typing pace was a lot slower than usual. She stole a glance at Hiruma as she bent down to sweep the dirt pile she created into a dustpan. She saw him wince slightly. Then just barely roll his shoulder.
There suddenly came to Mamori's mind a bad idea.
Mamori rose and approached Hiruma. Earlier, when pressed he had admitted that he was feeling the strain of the recent game with the Shinryuji Nagas.
"Hmmm . . . Your body, Hiruma-kun . . ." He was the only one out of the whole team not complaining about how much pain he was in. "Are you the only one not feeling sore?" Mamori had said, lightly flicking Hiruma's back with a towel she had been carrying. "Doesn't it hurt?"
"Of course it hurts," he answered, not looking up from his computer. "But its not like screaming will make it any better."
Hiruma. Always practical.
"You don't need to balance everything on your shoulders for the sake of everyone," Mamori had continued. "Hiruma-kun, you always push yourself so your loneliness won't show."
He didn't deny this.
"Everyone is fine," Mamori had gone on. "You won't be let down." She had been referring to the possibility of the team not showing up for the meeting on account of their injuries.
There was a pause before:
"Your mumbling is noisy . . . F'n manager." But, she heard his smile.
Mamori swallowed her reservations and marched up behind Hiruma. It's the least I can do . . .
Hesitatingly Mamori placed her hands on his shoulders and began to gently massage the overtaxed muscles. She felt Hiruma stiffen.
"What are you doing, Anezaki?"
Mamori almost froze. Hearing her surname pass his lips made her fear she had overstepped her boundaries. But, she stuck to her resolve and continued to smooth out circles at the base of Hiruma's neck.
"I-I thought, it's the least I could do . . . if you're not going to take care of yourself then . . . It's the least I can do in thanks for bringing Sena this far. I hate to say it, but I'm glad you didn't let me have my way all the time. If you had I would have kept Sena back. He would never have grown. So . . ." Mamori felt Hiruma suddenly relax. " . . . Thank you."
Hiruma did not answer.
As she continued her ministrations the sound of Hiruma's fingers on the keyboard gradually slowed until it finally came to a complete stop. Mamori looked down. Hiruma had his head lying over the top of the chair so his face was parallel with her his.
The epitome of the team had his eyes closed and his face relaxed. Hiruma's jaw had gone slack. Mamori felt her heart skip a beat. She had never seen "the devil of Deimon High" so unguarded. She suddenly realized the real reason why she dared such an idea in the first place. It was to see this. Mamori's hands stilled. She felt like paperclip being drawn to a magnet and slowly she began to lean down to make a closer inspection of the magnificent phenomena. When Mamori's nose was inches away from his . . . that was the moment Hiruma chose to open his eyes.
Mamori was frozen and could not help but stare back into the piercing eyes she had grown so attached to.
"See something interesting?"
Before she could answer Hiruma's hand snaked around the back of her head, pulling it down; his lips crushing hers; closing the gap.
Mamori gasped as she felt Hiruma's tongue slide against her mouth. Hiruma broke off the kiss so their lips were only inches away. He let out a breathless whisper:
"You're welcome."
