Chapter Seven: When the Fires Burn
The trip to Hiruma's apartment wasn't nearly as hard as she'd expected. There was a train stop twenty minutes from his home. She was a little nervous, walking through an unfamiliar neighborhood by herself, but it wasn't that dark, the streets had plenty of lights on them, and no one bothered her. Forty-five minutes after she left the school, she was knocking on Hiruma's door.
Musashi opened it almost immediately. He'd cleaned up at some point, but he looked a little tired, and his dark eyes were concerned. "Anezaki."
"Musashi-kun." She followed him inside, then shed her coat and set down her notebooks with a sigh of relief. "How is Hiruma-kun?"
"He's asleep. I dosed him two hours ago." Musashi sighed. "He's been awake off and on all day." A small grimace tightened the muscles of his face. "I got him to drink some water, eat a little broth, and take his meds, but he's been mostly ignoring me and working on his computer all day. When he's awake. He says he doesn't need looking after."
Mamori nodded. That sounded like Hiruma. "I thought Doburoku-sensei could help with that."
Musashi snorted. "Doburoku got him to take his first dose of medication, and drink two bottles of water. After that, Hiruma threatened to shoot him if he didn't stay out of the way. He still has that damn pistol. I'd have taken it, but he probably has at least three others within reach. And he made that..." He gestured to a bullet hole, opposite Hiruma's door that she didn't think had been there the night before. "...to prove he was serious."
Mamori sighed. "Of course." She glanced at the closed bedroom door. "How long have you left him alone?"
Musashi checked the kitchen microwave clock. "Just over half an hour since I checked on him."
"Then I should probably check on him again." Mamori set her purse down, then went to the door and edged it open.
Hiruma lay sprawled over the bed, head and shoulders propped on the pillows to ease his breathing. One hand was flung haphazardly to the side, the other curled over his ribcage, and his legs were tangled in the sheets that covered him to the waist. His eyes were closed, and he didn't move as she pushed the door open far enough for the light to fall on his face. Mamori hesitated a moment, then slipped inside and moved to the edge of the bed. Musashi came to stand in the door behind her.
Up close, Hiruma looked awful. His face was far paler than normal, his shirt soaked with sweat. The normally quiet breathing was rough and hoarse, rasping in and out in a way that made her own throat hurt to hear. She put a hand close to his forehead, wincing at the heat she felt radiating from Hiruma's skin. "Have you checked his temperature recently?"
Musashi shook his head. "Didn't want to wake him. Besides...trying to get a thermometer in Hiruma's mouth..." They shared a grimace. No matter how ill he was, there was no way Hiruma would submit to something like that quietly. Mamori sighed, then left the room, heading for the kitchen.
It only took a few moments to locate Hiruma's supply of towels. She soaked one in cool water, filled a small bowl, then wrung out the towel and took both items back to Hiruma's room.
Hiruma hadn't moved. She hadn't noted that he was a restless sleeper, so she hoped his stillness meant he was in a normal, healing sleep. She considered a moment, debating the wisdom of her actions, then leaned forward and dabbed the towel gently over Hiruma's face.
Hiruma stirred. Mamori froze, but the quarterback didn't open his eyes. After a moment, he relaxed again. Mamori sighed with relief, then continued bathing his face, dabbing away the sweat on his forehead, washing his face and jaw. She even ran the cloth lightly over his throat, eliciting a small sound that might have indicated relief. Then she re-soaked the towel and laid it across his forehead. "There. That should cool his fever."
"Yeah." Musashi was watching her with a blend of amusement and admiration in his face. He shook his head. "I couldn't do that. Not without waking him." He shifted his shoulders slightly. "What next?"
"I'll make some tea, and soup and rice. He probably won't be hungry when he wakes, but he needs to keep hydrated and get plenty of nutrients in his system." She remembered Sena was never hungry when he was ill, but the liquids usually helped his throat, and the food would make him feel better, unless he started suffering from nausea.
"Sounds good." Musashi stepped back out of the doorway to let her through. "I'll keep an eye on him. Call you if anything changes."
Mamori nodded, then went to the kitchen and began preparing ingredients. After a moment of thought, she set the rice aside to make rice balls, then got out the things she needed to make a leek and onion soup, with a little bit of meat in it for flavor and protein. The rice balls would be easy on his stomach, and the soup would give Hiruma essential nutrients and vitamins for fighting off his illness.
It took a little over an hour to prepare everything. Finally, Mamori turned down the heat on the soup, then set the rice balls out to cool. She broke off a section of rice and chewed on it thoughtfully. She hadn't added anything special to them, since she didn't know what Hiruma liked, or what his stomach would tolerate in these conditions. Sena had a notoriously finicky stomach when he was sick. But the rice tasted fine, the little bit of salt she'd added giving it flavor without being too strong. She sipped the soup, smiling at the result. The flavor was well balanced, but not spicy enough to upset Hiruma's stomach, unless he was particularly sensitive to something in the base.
"That smells good." Mamori turned to find Musashi waiting in the kitchen door, interest on his face. He moved to the stove and sniffed it appreciatively.
"It's leek and onion, and a little meat for protein. I thought it would be easy for Hiruma-kun to eat. And I made some rice balls, to get some carbohydrates in his system."
Musashi nodded. "He likes onions and meat." He sipped from the spoon she offered him, and a smile quirked one corner of his mouth. "It's good."
Mamori pulled off her apron and turned to get the dishes. "How is Hiruma-kun?"
"Still asleep. I checked a few minutes ago. He still has a pretty high fever." There was concern on the kicker's rough features. "He'll need his meds soon."
Mamori glanced at the clock. "Have you been keeping him on schedule?" Musashi nodded. "Then he'll need them within the next half hour, if not sooner."
"That's what I figured." Musashi leaned back against the door-frame.
Mamori considered the food. "We should eat soon. Shall we have dinner now, or wait until I take the food in to Hiruma-kun?"
Musashi shook his head. "I can wait. Besides, it might be easier to get the punk to eat if everyone else is."
"That's true." Hiruma wasn't prone to snacking by himself. In fact, she recalled Sena mentioning that the team captain would buy food and water for everyone if he was feeling hungry during a team meeting.
She set out food on the plates and covered it with a tray to keep warm. There wasn't any tea in the apartment, and she'd forgotten to buy any, so instead she drew three cups of water and set them with the meals. She was glad that either Doburoku or Musashi had done the dishes. After all, Hiruma didn't have that many of them. Within minutes, she had the bowls set out, each filled with an equal helping of soup and rice. She set one set on the tray, then took the others out to the living room table.
"Here. I'll take it." Musashi picked up the tray with Hiruma's food on it, balancing the soup and rice easily on his wide palm. Mamori nodded and picked up the water glass, then led the way to Hiruma's room.
Hiruma was still asleep when they entered, though he'd shifted and dislodged the damp towel. Mamori watched him a moment, then approached close enough to set the water glass down on the side table. "Hiruma-kun."
Hiruma didn't even stir. Mamori sighed, then reached over to uncap his medications an pour out a dose of each. She set them on the table next to the water, then reached over to lay a hand lightly on Hiruma's shoulder. "Hiruma-kun."
Hiruma's eyes snapped open, his left hand flicking under the pillow and partially withdrawing a pistol. Then he stopped, clearly recognizing her. He paused, then relaxed as a scowl settled over his narrow features. "Ge your hand..off of me...fucking manager."
Mamori flinched at the harsh rasp of his voice, but she backed away just the same. Hiruma's eyes followed her, then flicked to the bedside table, and the damp cloth on the floor. She saw him glance behind her, and turned to see Musashi still in the doorway, balancing the tray on his hands as he watched his friend.
Hiruma watched them for a moment, then got his arms under him and pushed himself upright with a snarl. Even in the dim light of the room, Mamori could see his arms were shaking, and the flushed color of his face. "What the hell...are you two fucking...idiots doing?" His voice sounded as if he'd been screaming non-stop for five hours, or gargling glass.
Musashi came forward. "It's time for your meds. And Mamori made dinner."
Hiruma's lip curled. "I'm not hungry. And I told you both...I don't need any damn nursemaids."
Musashi snorted. "You sound exactly like my old man."
Hiruma's expression twisted. "Bastard."
Musashi shrugged. "Maybe. But if you don't eat, you'll wind up just like my father. So shut up, eat, and take your meds. Otherwise, I'll carry you to the hospital and throw you into a bed right next to him." The tone was joking, but his dark eyes were serious.
Mamori sighed. "Honestly Hiruma-kun,I don't plan to nursemaid you." She fixed him with her sternest look. "As team manager, it's my job to make sure all players are in good condition. That includes making sure injuries and illnesses are taken care of promptly and properly. You were asleep, and it's time for your medication."
She took the tray from Musashi and set it firmly on Hiruma's lap, then set the pills beside the rice bowl. "I'll return in half an hour for your tray. Be sure to eat at least half of your food, and take the pills."
Hiruma scowled, one fist clenching in his sheets. For a moment, Mamori thought he'd throw the tray at both of them. Then he looked away. "Che. Get out, you idiots. I can eat my own damn diner without your fucking help."
Mamori didn't bother to argue the point. She simply left, Musashi right behind her. The kicker shut the door as he left, then followed her to the table in the living room. There was a muffled curse from the bedroom, and Musashi raised one eyebrow. He didn't bother to check though. Both of them waited, but there was silence. Finally, Mamori sighed and settled into her seat. "Shall we eat, Musashi-kun?"
Musashi eyed the door a moment longer, then shrugged and sat down across from her. "Yeah. Might as well."
Dinner was a quiet affair. Both of them were were listening for sounds of distress from the bedroom. There was an occasional fit of quiet coughing, but it never lasted long enough for them to even open the door, and neither of them felt like facing off against the volatile quarterback for less than an emergency.
Mamori finished after Musashi did. It was the matter of a few moments to take their dishes to the sink, to soak with the diner dishes. Then she turned back toward Hiruma's room. It had been fairly quiet for the past few minutes, but that didn't mean much. She knocked, then pushed the door open gently and looked inside.
Hiruma had fallen asleep again. He'd toppled sideways, sprawled awkwardly on the bed, though he'd managed not to dislodge the tray. To Mamori's surprise, he'd actually eaten a fair amount. He'd even drunk the water and taken all of his pills before falling asleep.
Moving carefully, she took the tray from where she'd set it and handed it back to Musashi. A gentle nudge of her hand got Hiruma into a slightly more comfortable position. Surprisingly, he didn't wake. She pulled the sheet up to his shoulders, then brushed a hand over his forehead.
Hiruma was burning up. She winced at the heat, then retrieved the towel. The water she'd brought in earlier was still cool, so she wet the towel again and laid it over his forehead.
Green eyes opened, hazy with fever. "What...the fuck...are you...doing?" His voice was barely a whisper, and he didn't seem quite properly focused on her.
"You need to bring down your fever, Hiruma-kun." She adjusted the towel slightly.
"Leave me alone..." Hiruma twisted, something she didn't recognize in his face. "Don't need...you've never fucking been here anyway..." The last word faded as he lapsed back into sleep.
Mamori frowned. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Musashi take a step forward, his face dark with concern. He started to say something, but she shook her head. She made a few final adjustments to the covers over him, then gestured the kicker through the door and pulled it partially closed behind her. "I'll check on him again in a few minutes."
Musashi nodded, but he was still staring at the door. "What he said..."
"It was strange, but he's probably dreaming." She tried to brush away the hurt it had invoked. After all, she had been there for Hiruma, as much as he'd let her. She'd tended his injuries, even helped him hide them, and worked hard as his manager to help keep the team together and keep things running smoothly.
"It's not you." Musashi shook his head and met her eyes. "Just...if he says stuff like that...it's not you." He shook his head. "Hiruma...he does his best not to remember certain things, but in a fever like that...look, promise you'll talk to me or Doburoku, if he says things when we aren't here. He'll get pissed that we talked about his business, but it's better if you don't make assumptions. And be careful. If he's remembering stuff when he sleeps...he might get violent."
"I understand. But...what's going on?" Mamori frowned at the closed door.
Musashi sighed. "Let's sit down." He gestured to the sofa. "Hiruma will probably punch me for telling you this, but..."
"I won't tell him I heard it from you." Mamori settled next to him.
Musashi nodded and ran a hand through his long hair. "I don't know everything. But ever since middle school, Hiruma's been alone. When I met him, he was sneaking onto an army base to play cards and run football games. He was only about twelve at the time. He already had his first gun, and he was dyeing his hair blond even then. I heard the guys on the base talking about him. Said he was the most jaded twelve year old they'd ever encountered."
Mamori frowned. "Hiruma-kun's parents..."
Musashi shook his head. "I don't know. His dad's alive, I know that. But I've never heard anything about his mother. He barely talks about her, and most of the time, he lies. We don't know. But even in middle school, he'd blackmailed the apartment manager into letting him live here alone. He raised money for the rent with gambling, and a few side deals." He sighed. "He doesn't get along with his father. One time, he told me his father was a man who gave up. Something about being a shogi player. But whatever the hell happened with them, Hiruma's been alone since he was a kid."
Mamori frowned, remembering a phone call she'd overheard, leaving one of the games. Hiruma had answered the phone, but hadn't said a word. Then he'd clicked it shut and tossed it into the nearest trash can, anger and disgust written on his face. She'd rescued the phone, but had never been able to bring herself to confront him over the matter. "Hiruma-kun, does he ever speak to his father?"
"Maybe." Musashi sighed. "There's something else you need to know. Hiruma's made a name for himself on the streets. He pissed off a lot of gangsters in middle school, him and Agon."
"Agon? From Shinryuuji? But I thought he and Hiruma-kun..."
"They were partners, for a while. Hiruma needed blackmail stuff and Agon liked beating people up. But it was a rough time, before he got that far. He took a fair number of beatings. And in our third year...Agon betrayed him." Mamori started to speak, but he shook his head. "You don't need to know how, or why. But it was bad. I thought he was going to kill someone that night." He sighed again. "You'd think, someone like that punk, he couldn't be betrayed. Wouldn't care."
"That's not true." Mamori shook her head. "Hiruma is very loyal, to the people he chooses to be loyal to. He's violent, and has a foul mouth, but he takes care of his team. He protects the people who are important to him."
"Yeah. That's one of few things I admire about that bastard. He's loyal, and he inspires people. And he's strong." He scrubbed his hand through his hair. "Just...there are bad things in Hiruma's past, and even I don't know everything. Even Kurita and Doburoku probably don't know. Remember that, if he goes off his head."
Mamori nodded. "I understand." she glanced back at the bedroom. "Should we leave his gun with him? If something goes wrong..."
Musashi considered, then levered himself to his feet. He padded softly into Hiruma's room, then returned a few moments later and dropped a slim black case loaded with bullets on the table. "He can't do much damage with the clip out. But he'll be pissed if we actually take his gun."
"Okay." Mamori watched the door, then glanced at the clock. There were still a few more hours before she had to be home, especially since she'd mentioned she'd be running late. She sighed and got out her homework. There was no point in disturbing Hiruma, not if he was actually sleeping, and she could certainly use the time to study.
Author's Note: Hiruma's not the easiest patient, is he? As for Musashi's warning...you'll have to wait and see, I'm afraid.
