A/N: Any usual readers of mine will know I don't often write Eyeshield21 fanfiction. However, I've been thinking about this story for months and can't stop. It's a piece I originally wrote back in 2009. I'm revising it, yet keeping the basic story line from back then because...it's still close to me.
That said, it isn't grandiose nor a feel good story. It's a survival fic focused on Yoichi and an OC. So if you're sensitive to Survivor's Guilt, abuse, blood, or language, I advise you not to read. Now, onto the story ~
Disclaimer: Eyeshield21 and it's world doesn't belong to me; it belongs to Inagaki-san and Murata-san. However, Inaba Hitomi and likewise OCs belong to me. :)
00: Prologue
Despite her young age, Inaba Hitomi knew attending Juilliard School was a high goal. Impossible, even. But that didn't give Hiruma Yoichi any right to laugh.
The ten-year-old folded her arms over her sailor fuku's bow, a deep frown on her tan face. "Why'd you help if you were just going to laugh, too?" she questioned after a stomp from her dress shoe.
"Curiosity," Hiruma replied. He sent a sharp-toothed grin and barely had time to wipe away tears of laughter before he met her gaze again, falling back into hysterics that almost made him choke on his gum. "Wh—what were you doing anyway?"
"Practicing my Jazz Walk."
"Your what?"
"My Jazz Walk." After ensuring her gray eyes quelled the boy's sniggers, Hitomi added, "It's an element of improvisation unique to every Jazz dancer."
"You know what improvisation means?"
"Shut up."
"So how many years have you been practicing?"
Hitomi hesitated under Hiruma's smirk then brought her attention to the orange-lit park around them. "Five years," she muttered.
Instantly, laughter boomed again. "And that's the best you could do? God, it looked like you were having an epileptic attack!"
"Is that why you stopped them from teasing me? Because you thought I had a medical problem?" Hitomi's glare looked far less frightening than the spiky-haired boy's, she was aware. Still, she hoped he took it seriously. "We walk the same path to school every day and this is how you treat me?"
"We don't even attend the same school," said Hiruma with a flick of his hand. "Takayama Elementary is far above most family salaries."
"So? We still spent the last two semesters on the same route."
"And that means…what?" The dark-haired pre-teen looked bored by the topic, blowing his gum, although Hitomi refused to let it rest.
"Well," she started, somewhat unsure as her hands fell to her pleated skirt, "I thought we were—could be friends."
Hiruma snorted. "What makes you think I need friends?"
"Everyone needs friends."
"Not me."
"Why not?"
Shrugging, the boy shifted on his sneakers then stuffed his hands into his jean's pockets. His distant eyes told a story. It was murky, sure, yet left the girl certain that he had a good reason for thinking as he did.
"If you're so keen on friends, why do you walk home alone every day?"
Hiruma's question stung and Hitomi couldn't hide her flinch.
Heaving a noisy sigh, she rocked her shoes against the concrete walkway, eyeing the setting sun. "You saw those kids from school. They just don't like me."
"But everyone loves sucking up to rich people."
"They have a reason."
"Other than your embarrassing lack of dignity?"
He meant her Jazz Dance through the park, which is why the tanned girl balled her fists and squared her stance. "It's their faults for not trying to understand me," she spat. "Everyone can't keep blaming me for things!"
"What the hell are you talking about?" asked Hiruma with a raised, angular eyebrow.
"Forget it," Hitomi added in a hurry. She took a deep breath when the spiky-haired boy pressed his lips then ironed her tone to keep her thoughts off how hot her face felt. "I don't care what you or anyone else says. No matter what it takes, how old I'll be, or what it'll cost; I'll keep practicing Jazz. I'll get into Juilliard School, and I—I'll be something beautiful!"
"That's some dream, Inaba," Hiruma said—a dull action, save a little smirk. "What, besides your horrible dance moves, will help you stand out? Your black hair looks like everyone else's and your chin is entirely too big for the professional world."
While she wished against it, Hitomi fingers ran through her pin straight hair before surrounding her wide chin, unwilling to meet the boy's gaze.
"Face it," Hiruma continued, "if you've been failing for five years, maybe you should reconsider your goals."
"I won't; no more than you'll stop going to that American Military Base."
"Have you been spying on me?"
The annoyed glare returned, except it didn't scare Hitomi as much as before. "It's just something I've noticed over the months. So what if I said you should take up flower arranging instead?"
"That's a stupid alternative."
"And what would you suggest?"
"Nothing. God, you talk too much."
"You started it by laughing at me!"
"Yeah, maybe next time I'll keep walking."
Part of Hitomi hoped he didn't mean it; her journey home would be lonelier if he avoided her. Yet another part kept her from asking if they'd meet again. Instead, she watched Hiruma huff then spin on his sneaker's heel, a hand raised towards the orange-tinted sky.
"Whatever, Damn Dreamer," he said. "If you're too stubborn to see the truth, feel free to keep trying."
"I will!" she screamed at his back.
Unfortunately, her words were filled with uncertainty and fear as his figure disappeared into the hazy cityscape. If only he knew she was a dreamer for necessity. Would he be more supportive then? Who knew?
All she was sure of is that she needed to believe in Juilliard School. Its promise needed to burn like daylight in her heart, so no darkness could penetrate it. If she failed, she would surely fall. And she was also sure that she couldn't handle anymore pain…
A/N: Oh, kids. Next chapter will be up I'm not sure when, so feel free to leave a review in the meantime. :)