AN END AND A BEGINNING


Daikichi aches in places he has not been aware to possibly ache prior to the boot camp. It is both enlightening and discerning. He harbored a quiet hope that the training he has endured the past months would be enough to carry him till the end and as the days wore on, he is thankful to find that it was. Barely.

The team, after a short rest at the Centre had awoken to pack their bags to journey to the airport for a very early morning flight. As they await for their plane, Daikichi takes the time given to help his master quietly watch over their exhausted teammates. He observes as his master and the captain talk in quiet tones nearby, sees the deflated way the ever-strong center holds himself. Even the captain looks visibly haggard.

While it's most certainly too early to return home, he is most grateful for the decision. America has been gracious during their stay, however he is grateful that they are to return to Japan and he believes that everyone, the captain included, will agree that they too are relieved to return to their homeland. He has learned much in the time he has spent in Notre Dame; especially it's history and the mark it left within American football the past century. A constant reference for him is that of the 'seven mules' from the team of 1924. T'was not a glamorous name but their reputation precedes them and he has learned much regarding the line they had built within the team. Their history has also taught him to be grateful for the advantages he has and to use them wisely. Though he does not posses his master's built, he is realizing that such a thing is less and less of a disadvantage and more of an advantage undiscovered if given the chance that it deserves.

He has always considered himself to be a stout contender to the path of a true man or at least striving to be one such man– a man of great strength, a figure upon whom his teammates can rely on during times of strife – but there has always been a hint of resentment of inheriting his honorable mother's short stature, a fact that he is most ashamed to admit, even within the confines of his mind. It is with the continued support of his master and teammates that resentment is slowly fading in the nothingness of which it belongs. Kurita has been most gracious with him, a near-constant source of comfort, listening to his admissions of guilt with a quiet understanding that belies the raging beast he can be on the field, offering kind, helpful advices worthy to that of a true man.

Daikichi's gaze flickers to the side from where he has been staring despondently at a monitor, watching his friends dozing lightly in their seats. A moment later, his master seats himself beside him while the captain throws himself into the seat next to Sena, startling the running back awake. He is amused to see his friend giving Hiruma a bleary glare of which it is returned with a smirk. He shares a grin with Kurita, seeing their respective best friends interact. It is most amusing to see. He turns his attention to the notebook in his hands; accounting spreadsheets and a list of ideas litter the pages. Some of them are that of his own part to assist Musashi while others are ideas he and his parents have been discussing in regards of thanking the Devil Bats in his time of being in their care. His mother had suggested that if he desires to show his gratitude and celebrate the continued growth of the team and their subsequent success in boot camp, then hanami might perhaps be the best option.

With that in mind, he turns to further discuss such an opportunity with his master as they wait for their flight with their comrades.

"Celebrate, fugo!" he spoke, his voice hushed so as not to disturb his exhausted teammates. 'To celebrate our success, I would like to suggest a day for the team to assemble for hanami. As a sign of good beginnings.'

"Yeah," Kurita agrees with a beaming smile, some fire returning to his eyes. "We can prepare the food and maybe some decoration and games…ah, I don't know why but it seems like we're missing something, though."

Daikichi nods, acknowledging the truth in his master's words. "T-time? S-setting?"

"Hmmm." The corner of Kurita's mouth twitches upwards. "That could be it. There's something that us Devil Bats would," he gestures vaguely, "you know, would be more at home with."

Daikichi can vaguely envision the idea of it however, at the moment, it is beyond his reach. But he has faith that he and his master will find the answer soon enough, they are men with patience, after all. Kurita fidgets beside him, twisting this way and that, and Daikichi glances up in time to see the center's brow furrow in worry. Making a surprised noise in the back of his throat, Kurita tenses, jumping up from his seat with a shout.

"I almost forgot to buy souvenirs from the airport!"

"A-assist!" Daikichi assures his master.

After excusing themselves from their comrades, the two of them maneuver through the terminal. He watches as Kurita embarks inside the limited choices of shops in hopes of finding items of interest, favoring nourishments over everything else. Considering the very early hour, there are not many to choose from.

Daikichi is in the middle of contemplating on purchasing a box of tea or something of the like for his parents, when something catches his eye. He turns, tugging on his master's sleeve and points to a relatively big souvenir shop that is surprisingly open. Kurita nods excitedly before following him inside the shop. They greet the sleepy sales assistant as per decorum and pursue the countless array of choices. He himself embarks towards the display of scarves they have hanging in the corner of the shop, feasting his eyes on the multitudes of print and cloth.

He lifts his hand to touch one gently, contemplating which would look the most fetching for his honorable mother. It is the least he can do for the esteemed woman that has given him so much. Even his short stature. The trip has not been a waste as it has given him unparalleled insights regarding his height, allowing him to be grateful for what he has instead of what he lacks. If nothing else, it will be a true sign of apology to his honorable mother for past ungrateful thoughts from her still unmanly son.

He scrutinizes the scarf in his hand, feeling satisfied at his finding. It is of a soothing color of pastel pink and cream with elegant vines printed on the cool cotton. It is beautiful like his honorable mother. Daikichi hopes his mother will bestow her beatific smile upon him when he presents it to her. His humble mother deserves something nice to wear once in awhile; perhaps on an outing with his honorable father. Nodding, he then turns towards the impressive collection of hats. A nice fedora, mayhap, for his revered father. Daikichi believes he will be appreciative of that. He picks one from the shelf, beige and simple looking with a strong and sturdy brim. A worthy choice for his father.

"All set, Komusubi-kun?"

He turns around and is met with the sight of his master, arms full of souvenirs that range from clothes to snacks. It will certainly add to his growing souvenir collection that his master had obtained from their stay in Notre Dame. Nodding with a small smile, they pay for their purchases. As they make their way back to their comrades, they pass by a flyer depicting an image of fireworks. He and his master stop and stare at the flyer then, at each other.

"Fireworks..."

"Night, fugo!"

As if struck by lightning, he and Kurita share a gargantuan grin, arriving at the same conclusion. "Yozakura!"

They rush back to the lounge area where the team are sitting, finding them almost in the position they left them. Both Monta and Cerberus are sleeping with Monta snoring slightly in his seat while Sena is squinting at her phone. Next to her, Hiruma is eyeing the screen of his laptop critically. Daikichi sees Sena and Hiruma trading glances before the quarterback raises a brow at their hastiness however, Hiruma does not say anything when Kurita shakes his head with a beaming smile. The captain rolls his eyes with a slight smirk then returns to his task. Sena gives them a drowsy smile before doing the same. He and his master quickly put away their purchases then ducks their heads together, scribbling furiously onto their respective notebooks so as to record the overflowing ideas; ones for a beginning that is befitting to that of the Devil Bats.

Truly, a most worthy endeavor indeed.


They get on a plane to Haneda feeling like death warmed over and considering who he is and the training he's done over the years, that's actually saying something. It's logical he supposes. If Eyeshield 21 is a title of the ages then the team that the title belongs to should be something of equivalent.

Kobayakawa is slumping in her seat as they wait to go through security, head bent and still squinting sleepily at her phone as Yōichi watches planes take off and land out of the giant windows and occasionally checks his own phone to reply to a recent mail from his father. It's been too damn long since he's actually have a proper conversation with his elusive father and what should have been messages full of stilted words are instead filled with their usual snarky intellectual banter. It's almost enough to keep Yōichi's thoughts from wandering to all the loose ends waiting for him on the other end of this plane ride. Not just football but his past as well. Data shows that the possibility of a misunderstanding has increased. There's also the fact that his father has returned using extremely aggressive methods to keep away his files; a sign that he's not the same man that gave up and made all of those excuses, who couldn't even bother to get himself back up.

I don't want to be careless with people.

Humming under his breath, he plucks Kobayakawa's cellphone out of her hands.

"Hey!"

"You'll get this back once I've upgraded it because this thing is shit for your eyes, fucking chibi." He tries to ignore how much he sounds like his father whenever he says anything health related. Which reminds him. "Make damn sure you ice your feet once we're home. Can't let your muscles clamp up with the Spring Tournament coming up."

Kobayakawa pouts, ceasing her attempts in retrieving her phone once he tucks it inside his jacket. The girl knows him well enough not to mess with his clothes lest she sets off a fire hazard. Kobayakawa nods with a sigh. "I promise to take care of myself." She warily eyes his jacket. "In return, please don't turn my phone into a bomb, Hiruma-san. It's a gift from my parents."

He cackles. "As if. I have more fineness than turning it into a bomb. And really, fucking chibi?" He flicks Kobayakawa's nose, causing the girl to yelp and shielding her face with an indignant glare. "You're a hundred years too early to bargain with me."

Kobayakawa holds her glare for a little while longer before she lowers her hands to her lap, a cheeky grin on her lips. "Then it's a good thing that I'm setting up to be the light-speed running back. A hundred years is a but a small number, I'll catch up in no time."

Said running back dodges his next swipe with ease, proving her words might be true sooner than he thinks. He grins. "Little shit."

Kobayakawa lets out that pleasant silvery laugh as she takes out her doodle book and settles comfortably by his side. Yōichi has to wonder how things developed as they are now; side by side like this, like partners. By the time they're about to takeoff, he makes sure to have the whole row to himself and Cerberus, using it to stretch the whole length of his body and lie down, much to the flight attendant's consternation. Kobayakawa, who's seated in the row next to his, tries to hide a helpless smile with little success. After a moment, Yōichi tilts his head in thought at the word he used to describe the two of them.

Partners. That…doesn't sound half bad actually.

Righting himself up, he shakes away the thought for later and takes out his laptop to get some work done.

Yeah fucking right.

Three hours in and he's ready to curse up a storm. Popping the bubble with an audible snap, Yōichi reads the shitload of data on the screen with tired eyes. Damn his father for being so thorough. Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair, matting it down into a more natural mess. Clicking a link, he taps the armrest, scanning the confusing binary codes with an annoyed huff. Even when he has access to a senator's codes, finding something that makes sense is like trying to maneuver around a yagura castle move set; which he abhors and hell if his father doesn't know that.

Resisting the urge to shoot something, half because he's tired and half because his teammates are asleep not too far from him (he must be fucking exhausted if he's actually being considerate), he instead snaps his laptop closed and lies down heavily on the seats, pressing his fingers to his temples.

"Shit..." he swears under his breath.

Some time later in the flight, he blinks awake to find that he's actually tucked under a familiar knitted blanket, all soft, warm and smelling distinctively of herbs and other earthly scents; it soothes his headache somewhat, chasing away an old memory of yelling, slamming doors and years of ignored birthday gifts and phone calls from his mind.

Then, I'd be the one who's given up. I rather be a fool than be the sort of person that gives up on the people I care about; that abandons them.

"Fuck," he breathes, pushing himself up and folds the blanket haphazardly. Since the majority of the plane is asleep, he ties his hair back into a low ponytail and walks down the aisles, passing by his snoring teammates. He pauses when he realizes that Kobayakawa isn't amongst them. Humming, he sets numbers and data together and deduces the most likely place where he'll find the running back. When he finds Kobayakawa at the galley, he feels the rest of his headache receding as he takes in the smell of coffee. Kobayakawa looks up at him, eyes warm as she hands over the finished cup to him.

He takes it with an incredulous scoff. "There's no way you knew I was coming here."

Kobayakawa hides a smile behind her cup. "No. But I have shared a room with you for three days. And I've found that the coffee pot is always half empty by the time I'm out of the toilet, Hiruma-san."

"I take the fifth."

Kobayakawa doesn't bat an eye as she pouts. "Denied."

"On what grounds?" Yōichi smirks before taking a sip of his coffee; eyes closing involuntarily at the taste. Though it's not his favorite, it's still a goddamn crime in how Kobayakawa can make good coffee with cheap airline packets.

Kobayakawa looks ruefully at him. "Do I really need to answer that?"

He cackles.

Drinking quietly across from one another, Yōichi reviews the data in his head, cataloging them into their places; from football, school, and his father's files. He has no problem with the first and second, it's the third that's still slow going. He's this close on finding something, it's just a matter of cracking his old codes. With his father's own web of connections, no doubt the sly bastard had some people upgrade Yōichi's old codes and programmings that he must've left behind at home to use against him.

He starts slightly when Kobayakawa nudges her foot to his own, smiling slightly behind her cup with her hair free from its ponytail and gathered over a shoulder. "You'll find it, Hiruma-san."

Yōichi huffs, finishing the last dredge of his drink. "I damn well know that. It's still a fucking headache though."

"Even with the codes?"

"It's my father, I wouldn't expect anything less from him," he mutters before he can stop himself. His guard tends to be less severe whenever he's just woken up.

As he waits to be inundated with questions, Kobayakawa surprises him when she just chuckles, soft and amused. "Sounds like a crazy, brilliant family you have."

He cackles. "Fucking understatement." When the questions still haven't come, he raises a sardonic brow at the content looking running back. "Not gonna ask?"

"...If I ask, will you answer?" Kobayakawa pins him with that empathic stare, the same one that'll never let him bullshit his way out of things. "If you haven't told anyone until now, you must have your reasons. It's your problem that only you understand and I have no right to know. I don't have a way of stepping into the depths of you without leaving damages." The running back washes her cup, placing it on the drying mat before smiling at him and drying her hands on a paper towel. "So I'll wait. When you want to talk, when you think it's okay to talk…please don't hesitate to. Until then, I'll wait."

He watches as Kobayakawa drops the used paper into the bin, mind reeling. He clears his throat. "That's a shitload of trust."

Kobayakawa shrugs. "That's because I do trust you. So does Kurita-san and Musashi-san, I reckon."

"Keh." He knows this. He's not an idiot; his brothers have been with him for years, with no signs of leaving. That day at lunch, when he told them his birthday and summarizing his fallout with his father after years of silence; both had listened attentively, showing no judgment of the fact that the infamous Devil of Deimon actually has emotions and later, tells him straight up that he can trust them enough to believe he can rely on them even when he doesn't need to.

When Kobayakawa makes a move to pass him and return to her seat, his hand reaches out for her before he even realizes it, grasping the brunette's arm in a firm grip and states clearly. "Three questions."

"…What?"

He can reach out if it's to Kobayakawa Sena. "You heard me. So, question number one. Go."

Watching Kobayakawa deal with his mercurial tendencies is hysterical.

Yōichi doesn't even mean that in a cruel way. Kobayakawa picks up on things that piques her endless curiosity with a speed that's not just limited to her feet and it's frankly dizzying. For some reason, Kobayakawa is invested in knowing and understanding him. He's annoyed by it but at the same time, he can admit that he's a bit flattered by the way Kobayakawa reaches out to him all this time, not only because she's curious about him but it's also because she made it abundantly clear that he's a person first and foremost instead of just his multiple reputations. Kobayakawa has been bombarded with all sorts of insanity since meeting him and the Devil Bats, and she's adapted admirably. Yōichi wonders how much of that is because of circumstances and experiences, how much of it is innate brilliance and how much of it is just hidden stubbornness.

In any case, the girl learns fast. Light speed fast.

But Yōichi's bizarre and mercurial idiosyncrasies always throw Kobayakawa for a millisecond. She'll look flabbergasted, all wide eyed and pouting then, she'll take a deep breath. He almost finds it...adorable. Especially since Kobayakawa never leaves. No matter how intense he can be, Kobayakawa always, always stays.

Kobayakawa grabs his left wrist, thumb pressing gently against his pulse point. "How are you?"

Yōichi blinks. He really shouldn't be surprised that instead of prying about his past and secrets, Kobayakawa asks him this instead. But he is. "You have to be more specific, fucking chibi."

Kobayakawa taps her head. "Up here." Then she places a hand to her heart. "In here." And to his amusement, Kobayakawa bites her lip as she gestures up and down at him.

"You just gestured all of me."

"Well…yeah."

If he can trust the running back enough to give her the inrō, then he supposes he can do this much. "Tired, confused, frustrated." He runs his tongue over his fangs and admits. "Worried."

Kobayakawa nods, thumb rubbing his wrist soothingly.

He inclines his head. "Two."

"What do you need?" Kobayakawa asks eventually.

The answer is almost a reflex. "Victory."

Kobayakawa shakes her head, eyes unwavering. "Need, not want. I think you've always known what you want, Hiruma-san. But right now, I'm asking what you need."

He won't waste their time by saying it's the same thing when really, it's not; he's learned that much over the years. He places his empty cup on the counter. "Answers. Solutions." He recalls some people's reactions in finding their answers, of their insecurities; he doesn't want to waste time in being lost. "Resolution."

Kobayakawa lets go of his wrist and taps her chin before she gestures at his empty cup.

He declines with a shake of his head. "Three." He passes the cup to Kobayakawa, watching the younger teen rinses the cup with a contemplative frown.

Kobayakawa looks at him under her bangs, eyes worried and earnest. "May we help?"

He arches a brow. "You mean you."

The running back shakes her head. "No, I meant we. I don't think I'd be enough to provide any help."

He disagrees. "But you want to anyway."

Kobayakawa gives him a firm nod. "Yes. With whatever little help I can give."

For a long while, he stares out of the galley, hears the snores of the other passengers but if he concentrates really hard, he can hear Kobayakawa's faint steady heartbeat. He doesn't have heightened hearing and perfect pitch for nothing, after all. Folding his arms he taps a rhythm on his arm before giving a one-shoulder shrug. "With the team, yeah."

Nodding, Kobayakawa follows him out of the galley. As they make their way down the aisles, he ignores the appreciative looks the on duty stewardesses throw at him.

"I don't get it," Kobayakawa mutters, almost to herself.

"Hm?" He looks down to see Kobayakawa frowning confusedly at the stewardesses.

"Why is it that no one realizes how attractive you are no matter how you look?"

Yōichi smirks. "You said that out loud."

After a beat, Kobayakawa hangs her head with a resigned sigh. "Sorry. I just…don't understand. I mean, sure, you look more comfortable like this but even with the saiyan hairstyle…"

He ignores the Dragonball reference; it's not the first time he's heard it after all. Kurita said the same thing once back in middle school. "Exactly."

"Eh?"

He gestures to his head. "They pay attention to the hair and the guns and the blackmail. Their fear can't really afford them to pay attention to anything else."

"But attractive people can be scary."

"I'm well aware." His parents are a prime example to that. "But the effects are faster this way."

When they arrive at the their seats, he tosses the blanket back to Kobayakawa. The girl catches it with a squeak and tucks it over her arm before adopting a nervous look. "Also…should I be worried about what you said? About you and I having fun."

Pausing on adjusting the sleeping Cerberus, he glances at Kobayakawa and sees the brunette staring right back at him. Right, he did say that. He remembers in making an exception for Kobayakawa and allowing her to help with one of his schemes while having fun in finally having someone to play with…

Yōichi blinks. "Oya?" Like being hit by a shinkansen, he's stunned to realize that just as Kobayakawa has never missed anything about him almost from the very beginning, he's been making exceptions for Kobayakawa for just as long.

He drops onto his seat.

The day he officially met Kobayakawa Sena comes back to him more easily than most memories. He remembers the rush he'd felt, watching such a petite girl sprint and weave around people with deft and practiced ease, the shock and glee he'd felt at discovering Kobayakawa's true speed immediately after he dumped her onto the field, and all the things that have begun from that point on.

Abruptly, Yōichi feels a thrill going down his spine by the memories of all the times Kobayakawa had gone up against him, both on and off the field, how the longer they know each other, the less Kobayakawa is likely to look or cower away from him; even in the face of his temper, like what happened back in the river and the gym.

He thinks just as suddenly of the fierce, empathic stare Kobayakawa had worn at the graduation party, all phenomenal presence and potential just waiting to burst out, and of the cheeky grin she'd wear whenever she feels particularly confident or playful.

And then there's the trip and everything that came with it. The challenge, the heist and free-fall, sharing a room and the recent boot camp.

They've done it all side by side like partners.

Like? No. Fuck that noise; as far as he's concern they are partners.

"Hiruma-san?"

Startled from his inner thoughts, Yōichi blinks at the other teen. "Hn?"

Kobayakawa adjusts the blanket around his shoulders and shit— when did that happened? Even with the coffee in his system, he's still tired enough not to notice Kobayakawa taking care of him. Stilling the girl's hands, he arches a brow at Kobayakawa, who bows her head slightly with an innocent smile. He is not fooled. Flicking the running back's ear, he then reaches a hand out to squish the running back's face, silencing Kobayakawa mid-yelp.

Kobayakawa huffs. "C'mon, Hiruma-san. What did you meant by that?"

'That I want to play with you. That I want us to be partners.' He thinks with a hum. "Later." Releasing the girl, he sees Kobayakawa is already pouting at him but nods nonetheless.

"Alright."

Kobayakawa returns to her seat, leaving the blanket with him. Scoffing, he adjusts it to cover his head before lying down and tucking his feet under Cerberus warm fur. Closing his eyes, he buries his nose into the earth-scented blanket and allows himself to sleep through the rest of the flight, dreaming of shōgi matches after dinner and a house filled with music by a redheaded songstress.


When they land at Haneda, Sena shoulders her bag as they disembark, feeling a knot of tension unwind at finally being back home in Japan. Even though the trip to Indiana was great, there's no denying the fact that there's no place like home. Tightening her jacket to stave off the cool air, she follows the team as they make their way towards the seats in front of the arrival notification boards. She settles herself into one of the seats, sitting between her two dozing best friends and tries to fight off the rest of her jet lag. Since her phone is confiscated at the moment (she's glad that she already mailed her parents about coming back) she instead checks her bag for something to do and feeling unsurprised on finding her blanket, folded sloppily inside. Sena bites back a smile. For someone so meticulous, Hiruma can be really messy. Stretching a bit, she pulls out a manga to read, feeling a lot better compared to when they first left Indiana. At least the twelve-hour flight allows her to get some rest after all of that training. Sena really has to wonder how she survived.

"Fucking chibi."

Sena looks up to see Hiruma standing in front of her, one hand in his pocket while the other balances his signature rifle out in the open. That's another thing she always wonders. While his guns aren't filled with real, dangerous bullets, the sight of them should've at least cause a bit of a stir considering Japan's gun laws. Then again, the fact that Japanese officials at security didn't even bat an eye shows that they're used to Hiruma's ways. Sena wouldn't be surprised if Hiruma has every Japanese officials under his control.

Closing her manga, she gives Hiruma a questioning smile. "Yes, Hiruma-san?"

Hiruma gestures his head sharply to the side. "Lets go."

Confused, she observes Hiruma for a moment. She's grateful to see the shade of fatigue has since disappeared from the captain's eyes, starbursts appearing to be a serene forest green and sees the relaxed and casual way he carries himself. Sena stands and looks concernedly around at their teammates.

As if reading her mind, (which she doesn't doubt he can if given the chance) Hiruma smirks at her. "Porker and Cerberus will handle things. Now, c'mon."

Nodding, she falls into step beside Hiruma, who, for some reason lets out a chuckle as their arms brush. Hiruma leads them to a taxi nearby the exit, sliding in to the back seat of the vehicle next to a quietly humming Hiruma, who then rattles of the address to Deimon High, piquing Sena's curiosity even more. Knowing that she'll have her answers soon enough, she leans her head against the car window, watching the familiar scenery passing them by. It's good to see the cherry blossoms already in bloom, can hardly wait to spend Hanami with her family in the next few days.

The driver stops in front of the school and Sena doesn't have to see to know Hiruma is either blackmailing or broking a deal with the driver. Sena really hopes it's the latter. Since the driver looks nervous instead of terrified, she thinks that might be the case. Giving her thanks to the driver, she follows Hiruma into the empty school, looking around at the equally empty hallways and classrooms. Sena looks on curiously as Hiruma leads them into classroom 1-2 before the quarterback locks the doors and walks towards a TV that's place in front of the classroom. Curious, she trots up behind the quarterback to see that the side of the TV has three familiar names written on it and above them, all bright and bold is a statement for all to see.

WE'RE DEFINITELY GOING TO THE CHRISTMAS BOWL!

1-2

MUSASHI

KURITA

HIRUMA

"This is…" Tracing the words, she smiles, feeling warm that Hiruma brought her here, no matter what the reason may be. Hearing a window sliding open, Sena glances up to see Hiruma leaning out slightly, letting the spring breeze ruffle his hair. He looks deep in thought.

"Hiruma-san?"

The blond looks back at her before pushing away from the window, a hand reaching up to give his hair a rough ruffling, likely to remove the stiffness of his hair gel before carding and arranging it with his fingers into a style that Sena has only seen a few times while they were sharing a room, one that she's starting to realize is something Hiruma is most comfortable with; hair down, stylishly wild and messy as it frames his face, bringing attention to his looks and eyes. It's a contradicting look. With his hair down, Hiruma looks like his age, all young and vulnerable. And yet, he still retains that dangerous and devilish presence. A dangerous ikemen some would say.

Sena is shaken from her observation when Hiruma comes to stand in front of the blackboard, taking one of the chalks so he can write the four kanji of his name.

蛭魔 妖一

Before she can question Hiruma, the quarterback thrusts his hand to her in a handshake, a devious and playful smirk on his lips. "Hajimemashite."

Feeling more and more confused as this seems to look more like a self introduction, Sena looks at the hand in front of her then back up at Hiruma and back down to—

Wait.

A handshake? They're both Japanese and they're back home in Japan. One of the few times when a Japanese would extend their hand to another Japanese instead of a bow in an introduction is when they consider each other as...equals.

Equals.

Sena inhales sharply as the implication sinks in, gaping up at the now grinning Hiruma. Flustered, she scrutinizes Hiruma's eyes and sees bright emerald, clear of bluffs.

Truth, her mind whispers. One of the few times that Hiruma chooses to be directly truthful without fanfare and for some reason, it's with Sena. She has no idea what she's done to earn that but she's not gonna take it for granted. Refuses to.

It takes a bit of effort to still her suddenly shaking hands but she does it and after swallowing a few times, she takes a deep breath and releases it steadily. Then, slowly and carefully, Sena extends her hand to grasps Hiruma's proffered one in a firm grip. Sena looks at Hiruma in the eyes as she replies clearly if a bit shakily. "Hajimemashite."

The edges of Hiruma's grin morphs into something that resembles a smile as the captain shakes her hand firmly before releasing it. Hiruma inclines his head to the blackboard with a cackle. "My name is Hiruma Yōichi."

Giggling, she takes one of the chalks and writes her own name beside Hiruma's own.

小早川 瀬那 蛭魔 妖一

Sena taps the blackboard with a grin. "And my name is Kobayakawa Sena." Sena bites her bottom lip. "Most likely you already know all of this but since this is a Jikoshōkai…" She coughs into her fist then folds her hands in front of her. "I'm 15 years old. I was born on the 21st of December 1989. My father is Kobayakawa Shūma who is a lawyer and my mother is Kobayakawa Mihae, a florist. I'm an only child but uh," She sheepishly rubs the back of her neck. "I have two people who are pretty much like my siblings. One is Anezaki Mamori-neechan and the other is the boy who taught me to run, Kaitani Riku."

Hiruma acknowledges that little tidbit with a hum.

"Lets see," Sena mutters, tapping her chin. "I'm 155 cm, which I think makes me 5"1 and I'm 40 kg. What else…oh! My blood type is A." Grinning, she bows to the quarterback. "Yoroshiku onegaishimasu, Hiruma Yōichi-san."

Hiruma snorts, leaning to the side against the blackboard with his signature smirk. "So damn formal."

Sena shrugs, smiling uncontrollably because now that she thinks about it, they didn't really have that much of an introduction when they met. It feels nice to be able to do this. Thinking that's that, she swivels back to the board and picks up the eraser. A hand covers her own, stilling the movement. Sena looks curiously up at Hiruma, who raises a brow and says simply.

"My turn."

Sena blinks, feeling both surprised and pleased. Honestly, she doesn't expect anything more than what Hiruma is willing to give so instead of saying anything, she turns her hand to briefly squeeze Hiruma's before letting go, giving Hiruma her full attention.

Hiruma folds his arms and pops his gum with a sharp snap. "I'm 16 years old. Born on February 7th 1989. Father is Hiruma Yūya, shōgi player and freelance surgeon. Mother—" Hiruma pauses, a shade of dark sea green flashes from the starbursts before it recedes back into bright emerald. Sena frowns, concerned at the new color and wonders at the meaning to garner such a reaction.

She gets her answer when Hiruma continues after a heavy swallow. "My mother was Hiruma Kiyoka." Sena stills at the past tense. "She was a composer and singer-songwriter." While his face is calm, she can detect a hint of old grief in the lines of Hiruma's features. Though her mind whirs with questions, she instead holds her tongue and with an aching heart, bows her head low in respect.

Hiruma nods in acknowledgement, face clearing. "I'm an only child. However," Hiruma gives a one-shoulder shrug, smirking ruefully. "I got two brothers by oath. Fucking sakazuki."

Sena giggles. Kurita had been especially enthusiastic in retelling that particular story.

Hiruma cracks a knuckle. "Height: 176 centimeters which makes me 5"9. Weight: 67 kilograms. Blood type: AB. That's all."

Reaching out, she brushes her fingers to one of Hiruma's wrist and smiles, hoping to convey the gratitude she feels. "Thank you, Hiruma-san."

Shrugging, the blond pushes away from the board, inclining his head into a slight bow. "Yoroshiku, Kobayakawa Sena."

Feeling a bit overwhelmed, Sena merely bows back. When she rights herself, she points questioningly to the board. Hiruma responds by tossing one of the erasers to her with a grin. Catching it, she shakes her head and works quietly with the quarterback. Once the board is clean, she dusts her hands off from the excess chalk, watching curiously as Hiruma returns to his perch by the window. Joining him, Sena folds her arms on the windowsill and places her chin on top of them, reveling the fresh spring breeze.

"Partners," Hiruma states quietly. Turning her head so that her arms pillow her cheek, Sena watches as Hiruma mirrors her position, shades of mischief and glee colors the emerald of his eyes. Hiruma gives her a slow, playful smirk. "That's what I meant."

Sena closes her eyes, breathing out a watery laugh at the flash of clarity in her mind, understanding why Hiruma waited until they're back in Japan to explain, in the place they call home while at sunset with the cherry blossoms almost in full bloom. Because even though they're American football players, they're Japanese first and foremost; symbolisms and traditions are literally in their blood and they're in the cusp of creating a new one, of having an end and a beginning in one setting. To be equals and partners.

"Partners," she echoes, overwhelmed and self-conscious. "Are you really okay with me?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't," Hiruma cackles. "So, yes or no?"

Anyone else would've balk or doubt or at least be suspicious of what exactly being the partner to one Hiruma Yōichi will entail but Sena hasn't spend the past few months ignorant or blind, can't really afford to considering those traits will result in all sorts of trouble when going up against Hiruma. The quarterback is far from nice but Sena knows enough that Hiruma will never hurt people unless warranted; will never be cruel for the sake of cruelty. So, trusting her intuition, combined with all that she knows about Hiruma or at least the things that Hiruma has allowed her to know, Sena answers without hesitation.

"Yes."

The grin that Hiruma gives her is both devilish and boyish in equal parts, eyes crinkling at the edges in what she thinks is a bit of a telltale sign that it's sincere and Sena doesn't know what to do but to smile back, shy and impossibly fond. Nudging the quarterback's shoulder companionably, Sena glances down from the window to see a familiar sight of the field and the clubhouse. Huh, that's nice.

Sena tucks a stray hair behind her ear. "Uh…out of curiosity, with the TV and all, was this your classroom with Kurita-san and Musashi-san?"

Hiruma nods, eyes tracing a few stray petals dancing nearby. "And now it's yours."

"Mine?"

"Hn. Checked the student roster. You're in this class with the fucking sankyōdai."

"Hmmm. I guess it's a good thing to separate them and Komu. They might end up causing quite a mess with their rivalry." Sena shrugs. "Can't help but wish I'm in the same class with Monta and Komu though."

Hiruma snickers. "That can be arranged." That...sounds less like a favour and more like an excuse to cause mayhem.

Sena immediately shakes her head. "It's okay. Thank you though." She stretches her arms out of the window, trying to catch the petals. "I'm really looking forward to this."

Hiruma's face splits into his deranged grin as he steals a few petals right from her grasp. "Are you now?"

Sena retaliates by blowing them away in a big burst, causing some of them to end up in their hair. They burst out laughing. It's a silly thing to laugh about really but they're exhausted and comfortable and this feels really, really nice. It's not all that different from usual but at the same time, it's so very different; very much like there's another dimension to their relationship that wasn't there before but now is.

Once she has her giggles under control, Sena shifts closer to press their foreheads together, basking in the familiar scent of the quarterback. "I am," Sena whispers to Hiruma's question. Sena grins, feeling playful as she quips Hiruma's words back to him. "You and I are gonna have so much fun together, after all."

Hiruma presses back with a cackle. "Hell yeah we are."

It's an end and a beginning all in one.