-X-

Family Matters

Disclaimer: Eyeshield 21 is by Riichiro Inagaki and Yusuke Murata.

Notes: Umm. Hey. I really like this fic, so I hope you do too C: It's a little long, but in my opinion, kind of worth it. Yep. You just keep on readin', okay? And don't stop till you drop!

Summary: There were only two options left. It was either sucking it up and pretending to be a happy family with their makeshift plastic baby, or blackmailing the Japanese government. Mamori almost wanted to cry. "Mushashi-kun, can't you switch w/ Hiruma, please?" HxM

-X-

It was a very bad day for Mamori to have gotten sick and taken an absent at school today.

First off, it was obviously because a certain quarterback of the Deimon Devil Bats would raise hell about her missing a practice and a team meeting, but more so, it was because that segment of Health had already come hurdling in (and rearing its ugly face) without her knowledge.

Where second year students cowered in fear of what horrendous tasks the teachers had prepared for them to do this semester—for each generation again and again, same as the day, time and month.

Family Living.

And Hiruma thought that taking Health would be a breeze, and he could just have spent the entire time there concocting strategic plays for the upcoming games. Well, maybe for the rest of the three hundred and forty-four days, but oh no, not on this particular one.

The first suspicious signs on how the whole thing fucking started were on a seemingly bright and normal day, while he and the rest of the class watched their gym teacher bring in two heavy loads of boxes, the quarterback's mouth chewing and popping a gum absentmindedly.

The teacher grunted stiffly as he labored over the boxes, and Hiruma's eyes ever so slightly flicked off of his laptop screen to find out what the hell their instructor was taking so long for, before staring back down to his own keyboard and resuming his work like nothing huge was happening.

And nothing was.

Or, at least, that was what the older man was trying to go for. God only knew how it was almost impossible, if not nerve-wracking, to try and slip something under the very nose of Youichi Hiruma. It was hard enough that he was already a slave probably being video-taped 24/7 by the same vicious bastard.

The moment the boy looked back down again, the gym teacher instantly took this great opportunity to kick the boxes underneath his desk like he was trying to imitate one of Mushashi's kicks. And then very quickly, he turned around to face the class, who weren't really paying much attention to his jittery behavior because this was pretty much how almost all of the teachers acted whenever the blond demon was present in their class.

(Some even went as far as to carry around a supply of holy water in their pockets.)

The grown man cleared his throat, trying to gain the class' attention. But he immediately started to sweat bullets when Hiruma looked up at him again, expectant.

Oh God. How could they even insist on him doing something like this?

The teacher swallowed a heavy lump and opened his mouth, though his tongue had failed him before he could even say anything. His hands felt clammy. He found himself staring at the quarterback's eyes and unable to look away until it was finally too late, like he was already proven guilty before the court had even been in session.

Oh my God. He couldn't do this, he couldn't do it. Only a person with suicidal thoughts should ever teach this class and even bring the project up. He very nearly wanted to wet his pants.

Hiruma's eyebrows furrowed when the teacher just continued to stare at him stupidly, like a deer caught in the headlights. His fingers twitched towards his gun. "What?" he finally snapped, only to have the man instantly break down, making sobbing noises.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean...! I-I tried to tell them not to do it, but they insisted! I just… I just…"

"Spit it out!" The blond quarterback growled.

The man immediately jumped at his words, a violent chill ripping through his spine as he finally gave up and complied to their dictator's commands.

Trembling uncontrollably, he squatted down and lifted one of the boxes he had painstakingly brought into the room earlier and heaved it on to the table, unfolding the flaps and tearing the tapes under the watchful scrutiny of his students.

No sooner, his hand suddenly reached down and produced a smiling, glassy-eyed baby, much to the utter horrification of the class.

"I-I didn't want to continue this," The teacher faintly spoke as he walked away from his desk and around the deathly-quiet, wide-eyed occupants of the room, displaying the plastic doll like it was Chucky. "B-but you're supposed to be the first class to start the… the baby project."

The baby project.

The sentence echoed for more effect, as if every one of them had just been slapped with the frightening realization.

Of course, except for one.

'Tac – tac – tac – tac – tac – tac – tac'

The whole class turned to see the blond quarterback snort indignantly and resume his work on his laptop like nothing big had just taken place, and like the news wasn't even at all that shocking.

The gym teacher watched the boy type into his laptop ordinarily, and then he felt a wave of anger crash through him. And to think that he had been ready to piss his pants out of fear for this indifferent, unconcerned bastard of a student.

He took one brave step forwards and Hiruma's fingers faltered to continue typing as the teacher gripped his shoulders and forcefully thrust the baby plastic doll into the demon's unsuspecting hands.

Even though he already knew that he would probably be visited by Satan himself tonight, the man still continued to ignore the warning signs inside his head and gave the boy a hearty slap on the back.

The blood-curdling expression that tore through his face was just absolutely priceless.

With a few loose screws now rolling inside his head, the man beamed, joking, "Congratulations, Hiruma-kun! It's a girl!"

And all hell suddenly broke loose.

-X-

"Dear, are you sure you're fine enough to go to school today?" Mrs. Anezaki called worriedly, knocking on her daughter's bedroom door.

Mamori sneezed as if on cue, though she just shook her head and promptly shrugged the sickness off. "Yes, mom, I'll be fine." She gave a reassuring smile, and then took a couple of Kleenex out of the tissue box just in case.

"Well, alright…" Her mother's eyebrows creased, still a little worried. "Just call if anything strange happens, alright?"

"Alright," the auburn-haired girl murmured, then kissed her mother on the cheek before heading off to school.

The walk to Deimon High was unusually quiet and tense.

She didn't know what exactly transpired in her short leave, but it must've been really big. Only a few people bothered to greet each other, and even then the greeting itself seemed unenthusiastic.

She had tried to cheerfully say hello to the ones she knew, only to be given a rather strained smile and a heavy nod. And the weirdest sight that met her on the journey to their school was that most of the students in her grade had suddenly partnered up together, like it was some sort of mating ritual.

And the atmosphere in the second year floor was just terribly horrible, the air seeming to thicken quite considerably as her classmates not only walked together in pairs, but also held on to one another like their lives depended on it.

Now what on Earth happened to drastically change the environment in just a one-day absence?

Mamori saw one of her closest friends, Sara, skipping down the hallways quite light-heartedly despite the darkening environment. She immediately pulled the girl aside to talk.

"What happened? Did someone die?" Mamori's brow creased as she fervently hoped not.

Sara blinked at her in confusion before brightening up and shaking her head, her black hair swishing around.

"Oh, it's—" the girl paused and immediately inspected the hallway for any hidden cameras, then abruptly pulled the auburn-haired girl into a much more secure area. Namely: the girl's bathroom.

Because everybody knew who the control tower really was in Deimon High, and just how many damned hidden cameras he had running in this place. (Hint: Almost unlimited.) Even if he was such an asshole, he wouldn't dare put one in the girl's bathroom… right?

"It's this project thing," Her friend sighed and leaned against the tiled wall. "We're supposed to like, take care of something or the other with another person, and it's just being listed today. It's got everybody worked up."

"Oh," Mamori muttered, tapping her chin as she mulled over what the black-haired girl had said. "You mean like an older sibling program?"

"Um… yeah, sure, whatever." Sara shrugged, then looked at Mamori more shadily, bringing the girl down to their knees and whispering. "But that's not important. The real problem is that all the classes in total have an even number of students, and someone eventually has to end up with… with, well…" Sara gave her a meaningful look, which, as observant as Mamori was, she didn't really catch.

Her brow rose. "With…?"

"With… you know." Her friend paused as she regarded the thought with a more sinister voice. "With… thou shall not be named…"

"… the guy in Harry Potter?" Mamori tried, honestly not knowing what her friend was talking about.

"No! Augh, never mind. Just… just make sure you have a partner."

"Oh, that seems fine. Well, do you want to work together?"

Sara looked at Mamori apologetically. "No, I'm sorry, hon. I already have a partner."

The girl's eyebrows crinkled once again. "But I thought you said that it was just being listed today…"

"It is. But you get to choose whoever you want to work with and the teacher will list you two up together. And… well, I kind of planned ahead already."

"Oh…" Mamori paused, then simply shrugged. "Well, that's okay dear. Maybe next time. I'll just go ahead and ask another person."

Sara looked back at her guiltily, biting her lip, and Mamori could only laugh.

"It's not your fault, Sara. It's fine." The auburn-haired girl reassured, but before she could even go and turn away, her friend suddenly grabbed a hold of her hand and squeezed it tightly.

"Mamo, just make sure you find someone, okay?" She murmured uneasily.

"Okay," Mamori replied, not quite sure why her friend had looked at her with such concern. Though she gave a small smile and took the advice to heart.

As the day dragged on, Mamori had asked some of her other friends if they wanted to work together, but strangely enough, all the replies were the same. Almost everyone she knew already had partners, and some of them even already had their names listed up.

It was kind of bordering impossible to find anyone who was available, and Mamori was beginning to become hard-pressed. She had even resorted to ask random strangers around the school, and even went to Yukimitsu, Kurita, and a little awkwardly, to Mushashi. But they were all the same too. Which was getting really weird, and if anything, kind of annoying.

Was it her? Was it because she was a bad partner? Or maybe because she was a little too late?

Although she wasn't even sure what the project was really about, nor any of the seemingly important details about it… and Sara hadn't even been much too clear about which was which, only having said that what mattered the most was the partners… and then nobody really told her anything else.

Come to think of it… why did everyone seem to go out of their way just to get partners? Especially Sara, who even went and planned ahead, which was a little uncharacteristic for her. Some students even went as far as to make secret meetings the day before too, not caring if the partnership seemed a little off and slapdash.

Was it a "I'll have your back if you have my back" kind of thing, or was there a bigger picture that she was missing here?

Mamori thought deeply about what Sara had said to her in the girl's bathroom. "But the real problem is that all the classes in total have an even number of students, and someone eventually has to end up with…"

"… with…?"

"… well, you know. Thou shall not be named."

And then the auburn-haired girl's face suddenly brightened up. Oh. This makes perfect sense! She couldn't blame them really, all of this just for—

Mamori sneezed. Ugh. The realization process was quickly replaced with the growing sense of nausea. She groaned and sneezed again, immediately having to make a trip to the nurse's office. Then as time ticked by, she almost forgot about the whole ordeal.

-X-

The second day in Health class had finally taken place, and most of the students sat there with edgy apprehension, some darting nervous glances at the quarterback's way and at the trusty rifle slung at his shoulder.

Oh God I hope I don't get him as my partner.

Oh sweet Lord, please don't let him be my partner.

Oh shit, what would I do if he was my partner?

Hiruma-kun would tear me to shreds.

He'd surely throw the baby off of the second story window.

And then me.

And then he'd haul my ass up and the baby's and probably do it all over again.

Oh Christ…

This was some of the thoughts that the occupants in the room currently had, which mostly consisted of doing the cross and then begging for God to not let something as unmerciful as what they had imagined take place.

It was really quite awkward as they waited and fidgeted in their seats, jumping whenever the blond demon popped a bubble.

Especially the teacher, who Hiruma had been glaring at for the past five minutes. And the boy didn't blink much, which made it more terrifying.

The teacher, now having gained a broken arm and a possibly traumatized memory because of what happened the other day, went about the room and continued to pass out a bowl filled with scraps of paper that had everyone's name on it.

This class was not at liberty to choose their own partners as they pleased. Because a certain person was here, and nobody really wanted to admit that they'd rather have their tongues cut out or their eyes stabbed rather than to partner up with him, for fear of having to do both and then get shot all across Japan.

The student currently drawing a piece of paper out of the bowl closed his eyes tightly and hoped against hope that it the demon's name wouldn't be on it, opened his eyes, and then sighed in relief.

The teacher moved on to the next unlucky soul, trying hard not to meet Hiruma's eyes. It was as if they were in a murder trial, waiting for whatever destiny Fate had bestowed upon them.

It was actually a surprise that the quarterback had even agreed… or perhaps a better word to use would be "tolerated" the project ever since what happened yesterday. The broken arm of the teacher seemed to make things even for them.

And it wasn't like he shot the poor man. Actually, it went more like once the man realized what he'd just did; he literally almost broke his neck… or arm, trying to jump off of the building. Hiruma didn't even have to lift a finger.

But the silence that transpired was deadly, excruciating, and nerve-wracking, until that is the quarterback had began to laugh, and then the class quickly found out that they actually preferred the unbearable dot dot dot of said deadly silence rather than the demon's evil cackle.

Because Hiruma-kun laughing meant that something bad was supposed to happen.

"Kekeke," the blond chuckled lightly, giving the class a good stare as he fiddled with the plastic baby doll that was unceremoniously shoved in his face the day before. He seemed to have taken quite a liking to it, mostly in the form of him trying to pull its limbs apart.

"What's the matter?" he called, and they fidgeted. Hiruma's eyes fell at the grown man passing out the bowl, who in turn immediately tensed. "Hey, damn teacher, tell me again why this thing is so fuckin' important?"

"B-because…" the man stuttered, pointedly looking at the floor as he shuffled his feet. "I-if you fail this project… t-then, then you fail P.E, no matter what you do…"

"Is that so?" the boy questioned matter-of-factly, then grinned. "Well, after all, only a total idiot would fail P.E, right?" The quarterback surmised, and the teacher was already nodding in agreement before the last word even left his lips.

"A-and if you fail…" the man quickly added, under the intense gaze of the blond, "You… you h-have to watch birthing tapes…"

Hiruma quickly paused, and then deliberately scrunched his nose up. "That's kinda fucking disgusting… well, am I glad you told me, damn teacher." His grin widened, and he finally let the class go as they pleased, still squirming in the demon boy's very presence.

The blond continued to fiddle with the plastic baby doll, apparently being a little fixated at tearing off its legs. Then, to his great amusement, he accidentally succeeded in ripping off the head, to the distraught screams of the people surrounding him.

He stared at the glassy-eyed, smiling object as it stared back at him inanimately.

And that was when Mamori had gently slid open the door and came into the room, then almost passed out when she saw a seemingly real decapitated infant head in the quarterback's hand.

She almost passed out. Almost. But not quite. Much to her utter utter horrified expression.

The girl just about wanted to throw up as she felt another wave of nausea wash through her mind. Though Mamori wasted no time and immediately dashed to the baby's rescue, very nearly slapping the quarterback and ripping it out of his hands before holding the detached head and the small body to her chest.

"What… what…" she began, panic-stricken, and then looked at him hysterically. "Oh my God! You killed a baby! What kind of person— what kind of monster would kill a— a—"

"—it's not real—" he cut off, annoyed.

"—would kill a non-real baby—what?" Mamori gasped as she stared at him, her heart racing frantically.

"I said it's not fucking real. Look, it's not even fucking bleeding."

Mamori swallowed as she glanced down at the child, and there it was, thankfully, still smiling up at her emotionlessly.

She put a hand to her rapidly beating heart and sighed in relief. "Oh… oh, oh my gosh. That was close." She murmured, and then quietly began to laugh at herself.

"Fucking hell, damn manager." Hiruma shouted all of a sudden, grinning widely. "You're fucking going crazy! You sure you took your meds this morning?"

"Oh very funny, Hiruma-kun," The girl snapped as she gave him an acidic look, still clutching to the plastic doll protectively. She found out that she couldn't quite let go of it yet.

The teacher approached her and held up the bowl filled with the scraps of paper, to which Mamori simply raised an eyebrow to.

"We're doing a project… the baby…?" The man gestured to the toy she was holding tightly, finding it a little bit easier to talk ever since the girl had entered the room.

It was like the entire incident served as an ice-breaker.

Mamori felt herself blush in embarrassment, lately seeming unable to say anything smart except for 'oh'. "Oh," she mumbled, then cursed herself once again. "Um, of course." The girl murmured, finally getting the hang of things.

"So we're supposed to take care of this baby, hmm? And this is the drawing for the partners?" Mamori questioned as she reached in to the bowl and took out a scrap piece of paper.

Her lips immediately pressed together.

"Fucking damned man whoever gets paired up with a crazy person like— oh." Hiruma paused too once the teacher (very reluctantly) approached him, and he reached down into the bowl to pull out a name. "Fucking hell." He muttered simply

They read each other's names out loud, and Mamori felt her body grow cold. The room broke out into a wild cheer.

"Fuckin' redraw!" The blond suddenly growled, but all of the students had already run out of their seats to snatch the remaining (safe) pieces of paper. "You damn brats!" He hollered, his finger just a mere inch away from his heavily loaded rifle.

"I- I can't be paired up with a baby-murderer!" Mamori protested alongside Hiruma, though she knew it was already too late. She found herself giving up too quickly, burying her face into her hands. "He just killed the baby… can we get another one?"

"Sure." The teacher murmured, giving her a pitying look. But it really was for the best.

Mamori sneezed once the baby was handed out to her, and Hiruma glanced at her disgustingly.

"Gross, fucking manager. Learn your damn manners."

Chapter End.

-X-

I'm sorry if the length bothers you. But I just can't write a story without it being like… overly lengthy xDD I hoped it was good though, and even if it was long, I hope you still want to read more.

So, if you do, please please please don't hesitate to review. It keeps my world spinning. C:

Alert and review, please, if you want this story to continue (and not end up in the many dejected pile bins that I have xDD)

EXCLUSIVELY NEXT CHAPTER: The baby didn't even make it to the blond quarterback's top 30 most important things. Though when a bet suddenly took place, he had excused that even devils learned to like... freaky baby doll plastic things. Whatever the fuck it was.

Mamori snorted. He didn't even use it's proper name, often giving it random nicknames instead.

The list includes:

.Damn Baby
.Fucking Tater Tot
.The little shit
.(What other people secretly refer to him as) The spawn of Satan.
.And the most commonly used: The thing

"Hey, fucking manager. Get the thing for me." (She would usually mistake this for any other damn object in the room)