Disclaimer: Eyeshield 21 is not under my ownership. YA-HA!
Summary: Lust. Crush. Who cared? Mamori finds out the hard way, that if one was to let a certain demon listen in on your secrets, to run very far away. Not that she minds very much. And, looking at the situation, neither does Sena. After all… she WAS his piece of…WHAT?! A SenaMamo.
His Piece of… WHAT?!
Before Anezaki Mamori had been the Deimon Manager, things had been smooth, and very much in order with her life. There were the days where she ran the council, the times where she had walked alongside her female colleagues back from school, and organizing the days that would come without fail. That is, this was all before the fair-haired lady by the name of Anezaki Mamori became the Deimon Football Team Manager and 3rd in Command (Musashi was second).
Now, her life was Hell. She mixed up homework assignments with copies of the Deimon Footnall Team's templates and plays. She would switch one of her textbooks with one of the many piles of football magazines that were littered left and right in the club room. Sometimes, her lunch would be consumed by the Demon Dog of Hell that Hiruma owned (or was partnered with), and at times, she found her bicycle padded and locked so she wouldn't be able to "escape" the clutches of Hiruma's regime.
All in all, things were a whole lot more complicated than when she was still part of the Student Council of Deimon.
And Sena enjoyed the club activities. He was the team ace. The Deimon Running-Back sensation. If Sena enjoyed it, she'd enjoy herself too. And, keeping the grin off her face, she had to admit that she enjoyed the morning rituals of the team just running away from sheer death by bazooka or RPG; Kurita demolishing yet another lineman dummy, and the Team Captain losing his cool when the damn wing would just blow his thrown balls off course.
Of course, she also enjoyed something else.
She loved watching Sena sweat.
Not as in, sweat with anxiety and tiredness as he ran the plays and got tired and all that.
She was talking about sweat. She would watch him, as he finished the first phase of Hiruma's hellish training, strip himself of his clothes. Sena had a very athletic body.
A very athletic body.
He wasn't scrawny and boney, like the old Sena had shown himself to be, time and time again. This Sena was different. He wasn't exactly buff, as say, a certain Gaou Rikiya, or chiseled like Shin, who had arms as thick as steel. This Sena was very… slender. Sexily slender. The biceps and triceps were visible, but not very "popping" (as a certain Tetsuma Jo's was). His chest wasn't boney anymore, and proudly displayed some growing signs of muscle.
She didn't know when this strange… obsession had started, nor had she noticed the changes in her demeanour. There was less… holly-picking for Sena. And much more… quiet quality time together. There were the subtle smiles she sent Suzuna, that plainly said "Touch him and die" (to everyone but the one intended), there was the time he grew out his hair, back when they were in the States.
Judging by his growth, this certain Kobayakawa Sena was going to grow into a very fine man.
Bronzed, tanned, blessed, whatever… milk had done this boy some good.
He was like one of those Bishounen. Only much more… real.
And so much more charming.
Mamori blushed.
Here she was, sitting upon the warm grass on a slope, as her once little brother (which she refused to think of, now) dashed through the obstacle course, Cerberus right on his tail, but not quite fast enough to close the gap that was set between the two. Sena outran the demon-dog, and left it eating his dust, before joining Monta on the other side of the filed, where he and Taki had been tackling each other like idiots all day long.
No pun intended.
And then… she noticed it.
He began stripping.
Good God.
He was tan. Slightly chisled. Not ripped. Slender. Sexy.
Perfect.
"Oh dear sweet Buddha," she giggled, watching a certain brown-eyed teenager strip himself of his gear, puring a mineral bottle of water all over himself, the evening sun reflecting upon a bronzed and slender (and now, rather wet) chest, "Sena has such a hot body." She promptly squealed, the writing pad covering her very visible blush.
She didn't realise a certain demon-resembling Captain taking notes, cackling madly ten feet away from her.
Run, Mamori, run very far away.
Pause.
And bring Sena with you.
/-/-/-/-/-/-/
Things the next day were very different. All eyes were on her. Even the ones of the female populace.
The source of this was a rumor. A rumor concerning her. A very… troubling rumor.
It was a rumor. Just a normal everyday rumor. She didn't have to pay attention to all the bullshit (for lack of a better word) that the school was spreading. She didn't have to even listen. She didn't have to subject herself to the throes of adolescent gossip and unofficial news. It just wasn't her. She chose to ignore it. That was the wise thing to do.
She smiled to herself, walking down the corridors towards the field, where Sena and Raimon were probably feasting on their lunches. She almost failed to keep a smile off his face
"So that's Kobayakawa's piece of ass?" a male student, behind her, whispered to his gangly-looking friend.
She twitched.
"Damn fine, ain't she? Man, I wish I was as good as sport as Kobayakawa was…" a brawly student whispered rather loudly (if it could be called a whisper at all). Mamori picked up her pace.
She furrowed her brows, deepening into a very severe frown, as she passed by severawl freshmen, who were eyeing her with mild interest, a furious blush decorated upon their cheeks. The shortest of the new kids, some brown-haired boy with glasses and rabbit teeth, whispered to his fat friend.
If it could be called a whisper at all.
"Kobayakawa's movin' up in the world, ain't he? I mean, with a piece of ass like that…" he trailed off.
Mamori shattered the pen that she had a grip on, the remaining splinters dropping to the ground like broken pieces of something that was once whole. Her lips were presented in a scowl, as the girl checked her watch, and noted that it was indeed time for her PE class. At least, she could find some relief in the solace of her friends, where they won't be pointing fingers at her and calling her a "piece of ass".
"Man, Eyeshield sure has some ass on his lap!"
A glasses-wearing punk. Spiky dyed hair. Piercings adorning his bottom lip. Probably one of Musashi's friends.
WHAM!
And the world became a much sadder place.
/-/-/-/-/-/-/
"Kekeke… interesting… very interesting… the damn woman's reactions are interesting… kekeke…"
"Hiruma-san… It's Geography now… are you sure we won't get in trouble for skipping class?"
"Fufufu… of course not… not when the principal himself has given us permission to skip!" he turned around, "Isn't that right Mr. Principal?"
The gagged man nodded vigorously.
Sometimes, it paid to be the King of Evil.
/-/-/-/-/-/-/
PE was a bad idea. She should have skipped this class altogether. She should have just waited it out in the library. Then, she wouldn't have to face the incredulous and very much stupid questions that were presented to her very being.
Like now.
"So, how is he? I heard…"
"Waii, your boyfriend is so popular! And so hot too! I wish my sweet Haku-kun…"
"How did you do it? I mean, considering…"
"Does he like it rough?"
That was it.
"URU-SAI!" and the girl's locker room was now very much not focused on her, as the female occupants had backed off from her angry outburst. Her very scary angry outburst. "I. AM. NOT. HIS. PIECE. OF. ASS."
Silence.
Crickets.
"So… is he a breast man or an ass man?"
And so, the world mourned another loss. Another bloody and dismembered loss.
/-/-/-/-/-/-/
Things hadn't exactly been going Sena's way, as the day had gone by. Things had gone in the direct opposite way, actually. Things that he would rather, than admit to himself, blame on the throes of God's almighty bullshit.
He knew it was blasphemous, but he was Shinto. He could get away with anything. This included.
The whole day, the guys had given him envious and respectful looks. Not that he didn't get any after his revelation of being the Star RunningBack, Eyeshield 21, but these looks were, more often than not, coupled with…
Envy.
The fifth deadly sin (Yes, Sena followed western pop culture as the rest of the Asian nation of Japan did).
The kind he felt whenever Hiruma was around Mamori. And how he wished he was taller.
Oblivious crush, his ass.
He sighed slightly.
There were whispers around the school. Whispers concerning him. And he'd bet his Eyeshield plate that it concerned something external to his American Football life.
And Mamori. He'd bet his soul that it concerned Mamori as well.
And lo and behold! He finally heard it.
"Anezaki's off limits! Kobayakawa's claimed her as his piece of ass."
Now, the old Kobayakawa Sena would have blushed and stuttered and blabbered nonsense about how he and Mamori were more like brother and sister than anything, and there would be absolutely no reason for the both of them to build a relationship around that particular ammo.
The old Kobayakawa Sena would wave away the nonsense and preach about childhood friendships.
The old Kobayakawa Sena would have given a (somewhat) explanation to why they would never be a couple.
The old Kobayakawa Sena wouldn't have thought about Mamori's fine legs, drenched in sweat, her short shorts clinging to her very fine bottom as she looked at him with half-lidded eyes, red Deimon t-shirt sticking to her body like a second skin, revealing supple and plentiful-
Pause.
Blink.
Nosebleed.
Sena, you pervert.
/-/-/-/-/-/-/
"Hehehe… unexpected… but welcome! Now… time to arrange a rendezvous!"
Mobile phone. Lightning-speed dialing. Thirteen digit number.
"Hello, this you, fucking God?"
Blabbering over the phone.
"Yes, I want to call in a job. The Romance File. KSAM-21. Yes, that one." Blabbering from the other line again. "If you don't want people to find out about that you better!"
End call.
"Hiruma-san is scary…"
/-/-/-/-/-/-/
Sena groggily rose, wiping the bllod that was now streaming from his nose. Damn thoughts. Damn those perverted thoughts. Damn those sexy, perverted, God-sent perverted and lecherous thoughts of his Mamori-neechan. Damn those thoughts of her legs and the way they showed off; damn those stomach teases of her bending-
Stop, Sena, just stop.
Blood loss was a factor in Cause of Death here.
Think Unsexy Thoughts… Think Unsexy Thoughts…
"Sena?"
Well, speak of the Devil.
Or should we say Angel?
/-/-/-/-/-/-/
'Huhuhu… this is interesting… very interesting…" Hiruma clattered upon his keyboard, creating many a sound. "Shorty and Manager hooking up… I'll clear the pool! Sweep it clean! Stuff the monkey! BWAHAHAHAHA!"
"Musashi …"
"Yeah?"
"Hiruma's gone crazy."
/-/-/-/-/-/-/
It had to be over and done with. It had to be settled. She had to end this now. NOW.
"Sena, the gym, after school. We need to talk."
She walked away.
But not before Sena got a good look up her skirt.
Strawberries were in fashion.
Smirk.
Faint.
Weakling.
/-/-/-/CURRENTLY 4:06 PM-/-/-/
Sena waited, sitting upon one of the benchpress machines, shirt gone in favour of a sleeveless tee, and left and right hands wrapped in bandages (Shin's advice). Mamo-nee was going to meet him here, so he might as well have been here the whole time. Training his stamina and all that jazz. Hiruma almost seemed happy to let him go to the gym.
Alone. Without any supervision. Or cages. Or landmines.
Sweat dripped his being, as he caught his breath, finishing several one-ups with a 2.5 kilo weight.
"Sena?" the sound of a door opening. Mamo-nee was here.
And boy, was her presence welcome.
Training bra only. Check.
Very tight short shorts. Check.
Sweaty and scentful body…
Triple check.
"So… what did you want to talk about?" Sena questioned, looking away from Mamo-nee, and trying very, very hard not to trace his eyes upon her taut abdomen.
A sigh.
He noticed her C-cup heave up and down.
Perv.
She took a seat on one of the other devices in the gym, back arched, arms back, chest forwards.
Claw my eyes out now…
"I believe…" Mamori-neechan… was blushing? Lightly? Rare occurrence. Very rare occurrence. "That there was a rumor circulating around the school today…" the blush got thicker. And more noticeable. "It involved me… and you."
Ah, that rumor.
"Y-Yeah… It was going around school, I heard…" Sena fought down a blush himself, eyes avoiding Mamori's rather… tasteful body. "People were calling you… my…" he urged the grin to die. Just die. "Piece of ass."
He didn't mind. That's why no mangled corpses tailed his wake.
Mamori kept silent.
"S-so…" Mamori barely managed to keep her stutter down. She cleared her throat. "I just… wanted to affirm, that… under no circumstances, that… this… r-rumor… will be fact." A sigh. "We'll sort this out tomorrow with the school."
She turned to face him, finally.
He had been sweating.
Beads of crystalline Sena-sweat coating his shapely body, which was clinging to the black (and wet) sleeveless tee.
Sena has such a hot body….
She'd blame the hormones later. Along with the scent of pure man that her formerly "little brother" emanated.
Now it wasn't important. Now or never, Mamori. Now or never. Say it.
She'd been quiet for the several minutes…
"Sena…" her mouth opened. Sena cocked his head up, "I…"
Now or never, woman!
"I have a crush on you!"
Blink.
Sena had spoken.
Sena said he had a crush on her. Not the other way around.
"I-I'm sorry, Mamo-nee…" he had risen from his seat, but was now looking away, eyes closed out of embarrassment, and fingers looking very twitchy, "I know… that… it might be sudden… but… I rwally do… have a crush on you."
No response. He continued.
"I… I joined the American Football Club to impress you… and… even now… I… I want to be a man for Mamo-nee!"
Heartwarming. That's what it was. Purely heartwarming.
"Sena…"
She neared him.
RE-JECTION!
"I like you, too."
Kissu.
Fireworks popped in his brain, his muscles, tired and cold before, were now full of energy and was up for the pumpin'. Mamori put a hand upon his chest, and another around his neck, bending slightly on her knees as she backed into the wall, nipping at the bottom lip, as Sena felt up her thigh with one finger.
One good finger.
She drew him in harder, and Sena pushed back.
Her legs became jelly.
They broke apart, if only for air.
Mamori gave the younger a shy smile, as Sena took her role away from her.
This kid could stand on his own two legs.
Blush.
A short kiss. Chaste and sweet. Sena was in charge now.
"So…" Sena chuckled, pinning the attractive girl between himself and a wall "Do we deny the rumor… or not?"
"Sena…" she fought down a blush. She had to swear, that Hiruma was rubbing off on Sena much more than he thought. She tried to push him away, she really did. Only…
His chest was just too warm to actually push away. And sexy. Not forgetting that.
"You do realise that Hiruma's going to have so much ammo for us, that we're probably going to have to wait till we die to shake off his blackmail… if we do go through with this?" She sighed, a grin was making its way to Sena features.
"Hai."
Silence.
A lustful smirk.
"Strip."
/-/-/NEXT MORNING/-/-/
"Do you smell that?" Kurita sniffed, entering the School Gym alongside Monta, Hiruma and Musashi, "It smells… weird…"
Musashi followed Kurita's action, "It's like somebody's left a lot of dirty laundry… with perfume…"
Hiruma said nothing, and looked to the pair of weights that was on the gym's floor, and then to the benchpress, and the cycling machines, before turning on his heel, and heading for the exit.
"Hiruma-san, where're you going?"
"We're gonna do some laps instead. And then I'm gonna blackmail the principal for new gym equipment."