Title: Slave
Author: ShadowDemon-Gengar
Character Pairings: Hiruma/Mamori
Genre: Romance/Drama
Rating: T
Warnings: Hiruma's Infamous Vulgarity
Disclaimers: I own nothing Eyeshield 21
Summary: What exactly were the terms of the bet that Hiruma and Mamori had made that day in the classroom? And what will be the results of Hiruma having lost that bet?

Recommendation(s): Keep story's width at "3/4"; adjustment settings are at the top-right corner of the site, where the different font styles and sizes are located. "3/4" is the original width that this story was written in.

Author's Note: Wow, I'm so sorry for the late update. I'm working on multiple fictions for two different fandoms, so it's coming a bit slow. I haven't decided yet if I will make the "days" separate chapters or put them all into one big chapter. If this takes even longer to update, then it's probably the latter. Anyway, please enjoy and know that I love concrit and advice.

Chapter II: The Winner

"Well, Taki-kun and Kurita-kun showed up," Mamori said, smiling smugly at Hiruma who was lazily lounging in a chair, his legs kicked up on the roulette table and his arms crossed behind his head, the chair having been tilted back and balanced precariously.

He glanced up at her, absently chewing his gum, "The bet is still on, shitty manager. You only win if all of the fucking team shows up."

That caught her attention. She frowned slightly, gripping broomstick as she heard something ugly and suspicious in his words. "You mean the three brothers, Sena, and Monta . . . right?"

Hiruma turned his gaze up at her, annoyance narrowing his eyes. "No, fucking all of them. In other words, I'm also including the shitty kicker, damn baldy, fucking fatty junior, lazy ass sumo, the shitty twosome basketball losers, and fucking inconspicuous."

She gaped at him, indignant and disbelieving. "But . . . Hiruma, that isn't fair! It was already known that they won't be here until evening practice! They're busy!"

Hiruma shrugged a broad shoulder, smirking as he closed his eyes. "That wasn't part of the deal, damn manager."

"Oh, you – you jerk!" she said, nudging him none-too-gently in the shoulder with the end of her broomstick. "Why did you even bother making up such a bet if you knew you were just going to cheat?! There's no fun in this if you're going to be that way, using the loopholes to win!"

He continued to act nonchalant. "That's what you get for making a deal with the Devil."

"Hiruma! Come on!" She jabbed him again with the broom.

"Fuck, knock it off!" he snapped, glaring up at her. She just crossed her arms, glaring back. The other three occupants in the room were standing off in a corner, listening and watching intently, confused as to what was going on.

"Kurita-san," whispered Suzuna, blinking up at the large lineman, "what bet are they talking about?"

Kurita looked nervous, scratching the back of his head, "I don't know, but whatever it is . . . it's not going to end well if Hiruma is in on it."

Taki threw his open his jacket and struck a pose, winking, "Ah-hah­-ha! They must be betting on my future performance against the Oujou White Knights! Hiruma-san is obviously betting one-hundred-fifty percent and Mamori-neechan is betting five-hundred percent!"

The quarterback and team manager didn't pay attention to the commotion going on behind them, especially when Suzuna pounced on her twirling brother with an irritated shout.

"Tch, fine, you damn crybaby."

"H-huh?" She was startled back a step when he suddenly thrust a long index finger at her. He grinned viciously.

"Being the kind man that I am, I'll grant you one lifeline," he stated, his green eyes glinting with mysterious, devious intent.

"A-a lifeline?" she repeated slowly, not quite understanding what he meant.

He got up, the chair scraping across the hard floor. He braced a hand on the table, towering over her just as he had in the classroom.

Why does he always do this? It's so rude and . . . uncomfortable. She clutched the mop to her body, ready to wield it as a shield or sword should he do anything threatening. Instead, he just poked a thin digit at her again.

"Meaning, you get to block one loophole in this bet," he said, ducking down until his nose was nearly touching hers. "And there's more than one."

Her grip on the broomstick was so tight that she could actually feel her fingers growing slightly numb. Something in her gut was screaming at her to back out of the deal right then and there; telling her that even if she won the bet . . . she was still going to lose in the end.

That's just how things worked when one dealt with Hiruma.

But if she backed out now, she knew she'd regret it later . . . it might even give him the impression that she was a coward; easily intimidated. It might even give him the assumption that he could walk all over her . . .

Even if she did use her 'lifeline', she couldn't possibly use it on any other loophole . . . She'd lose inevitably if she did, knowing already that the players he mentioned were not going to show up until much, much later.

She wanted to win; wanted to use the bet as her opportunity to get back at him for all grief he'd delightfully put everyone – his friends, her friends, the Disciplinary Committee, the whole student body, the teachers – through. She wouldn't have gone through the trouble – or risk having it backfiring – of agreeing to such a bet if she wasn't going to use it against him.

And it was that single thought – the realization that the taste of delicious revenge was just within her reach; just scant inches from her fingertips – that was what fed and strengthened her courage.

"Fine," she ground out, tilting her chin up determinedly. "Yes. I'm cutting out the part where all of the team has to show up."

Much to her extreme dismay, those devil-feline eyes took on a sort of wicked triumph. Her inner warning bells started shrilling again and she had the hideous feeling that she had just walked, willy-nilly, into a trap . . .

Suddenly, he backed away and she heard the door sliding open. Confetti poppers exploded and the colorful pieces of paper and glitter floated down to the floor. She felt relief when she saw the confused faces of Sena and Monta just outside the threshold, followed by the older faces of the three Huh-Huh Brothers peeking in from behind them.

"YA-A!" cheered Suzuna while Kurita shouted cheerfully, "Banzai! Banzai!"

She grinned, turning to the hellish quarterback who, with a small jolt of surprise, was wearing a small smirk that wasn't . . . threatening or frightening in the least.

She shook it off and stated proudly, "Look, see? They're finally here, just as I said they would be!"

He chuckled, shrugging slightly before saying, "Heh. You guys came even on your day off. Good for you."

She jerked back when that psychotic grin of his sliced across his face. He pointed outside and shouted happily, "Now look up, fucking brats!"

She gasped, bracing herself against her broom handle when powerful wind suddenly slammed into the clubroom, throwing boxes and papers all around. The deafening chopping sound of a helicopter's rotor harshly greeted her ears, and she snapped her gaze up at the tall, slinky football captain, gaping in shock.

A helicopter . . .? But . . . how? Why?

He couldn't have possibly known the team was going to show up! He couldn't have even known the exact time they were going to show up!

But he did . . . and it wasn't coincidental. She knew she would be fooling herself if she thought otherwise.

So what was the whole point in making a bet if he knew he was going to lose?!

"Get in the fuckin' chopper, kiddies! We're goin' for a ride!"

She snapped out of her thoughts and before she could stop herself, she shouted, angry and confused and feeling absolutely deceived. "Hiruma!"

The spiky-haired blond turned, giving her his attention. She felt fury build up in her chest, seeing that snide grin.

He was acting as if he had won . . .

That infuriated her more. Unable to contain herself, she jerked her hand up, pointing her forefinger at him and shouting over the roar the helicopter, the harsh wind snapping their clothes against their bodies and whipping their hair around their faces:

"Hiruma-kun! The winning bet starts now!"

His face lost that arrogant, self-satisfied look.