After they'd been waiting for a while, the slave licked his lips and said, tentatively, "When master comes back, maybe you should... kneel."

"Like hell I should!" Raimon felt sorry for him, he really did, but seriously, kneel?

It hadn't escaped his notice that the slave had bandages showing under the neck of his shirt, that when he lifted his legs, it was white bandages, not socks, peeking out over his shoes. When he leaned over far enough for his shirt to ride up, there were even bandages disappearing all the way up his back. It wouldn't have been any surprise if turned out the guy was made entirely of bandages under his clothes, like a mummy.

Abused as he was, it was no wonder he was so cowed. Raimon could be the bigger man and look past the brainwashed comments. Even if he didn't like them.

They had been left alone around back of the inn, in what Raimon privately thought of as the "downstairs" training grounds. He couldn't count how many endless, grueling hours of exercise he'd endured here, but it wasn't half as bad as when Doburoku made them go up the mountain and train in the low atmosphere. Raimon only went along with it all because it was keeping him in shape for baseball. Besides, Doburoku and Kurita and the others weren't so bad, it was just Hiruma that he couldn't forgive, for kidnapping him and all.

Now that the two of them were alone, it should have been a good chance for another escape attempt, except Hiruma had deliberately and showily put the car keys in his pocket before he left, and Raimon had been dragged back way too many times to go through that pointless exercise again. So they waited.

"Or at least apologize," said the slave suddenly, after sitting in silence so long Raimon had all but forgotten his existence. "He can be really generous..."

"Seriously? How can you say that?" Raimon demanded, earlier patience forgotten. "Apologize? To that kidnapper? Are you a man or not?"

"I'm a slave," the guy insisted, without a scrap of shame. "Just like you—"

"Leave it." The demon Hiruma was back, twirling a football in one hand. Doburoku was with him, clutching his customary booze wrapped in a paper bag, along with Kurita and the new guy, Yukimitsu, who looked overall okay, if slightly shaken, and slightly dusty for whatever reason.

"This is him," Hiruma said, nodding at the slave, "he's called Sena." The slave looked surprised at that, as if he'd thought his "owner" might not even know his name. Probably never used it before.

"This fucking drunk is our trainer," Hiruma added. "He used to be good at football, but that's ancient history." Doburoku popped the top from his bottle and whipped it at Hiruma, who merely tilted his head slightly to dodge. "Ready to show him what you've got, shrimp?"

Next to Raimon, Sena began to shake. Like, really shake, hard enough that Raimon asked, "Hey, you okay?", previous grudge forgotten. But Sena didn't respond.

Taking long pulls from his bottle as he walked, Doburoku examined Sena from all sides, but stopped short of actually touching him, or checking his teeth like a horse. "He's not much to look at, but I guess I'll have to see him in action. Preferably at his top speed. Should we get some dog treats?" he added dryly.

Raimon remembered some "training sessions" with Hiruma's hell-hound. He was pretty sure it would ignore the treats and bite Sena right in two. Heroically, he planted himself in front of Sena, ready to defend him, but Hiruma just waved a hand. "Nah, he already knows what's at stake. Don't you?"

Sena nodded stiffly, sharply, like he was having trouble moving his body properly.

"You sure you're okay?" Raimon reached out despite himself, and Sena actually flinched away from his hand.

"I... I just know what happens if I can't do it."

"Can't do what?"

But at the slightest beckon from Hiruma, Sena was turning away like Raimon didn't even exist. They set him up at the 40 yard dash line, and Doburoku put down his bottle for once, in favor of a whistle. When he blew it, Sena took off like a shot. One moment Raimon had his hands outstretched in spotting position, ready to catch the guy when he inevitably fell over. The next, Sena's legs were pumping like pistons, and he was halfway to the horizon before Raimon's mouth even managed to drop open. He'd inhaled to say something encouraging, but in the span of that one held breath, Sena had made it all the way, and was now bent double over the finish line, hands braced on thighs, panting heavily for breath.

"Now I know what you saw in him." Doburoku stared at his stopwatch, and even tapped it a couple times, like the seconds might have gotten stuck in there somehow. "And this is him starved? And in that condition? The technique needs work, obviously, but..."

"That was amazing, Sena!" Kurita cried happy, rushing over to offer a bottle of water. The slave started to reach for it, but then stopped himself and looked at Hiruma first. Seriously? He had just run so fast he nearly broke physics, he was clearly about to keel over, and he needed permission to have a drink of water?

As Raimon felt his blood start to boil, he suddenly realized that Hiruma was watching him, for whatever reason, and not the slave who had raced his heart out for him. A beat, and then Hiruma got that stupid sneaky grin on his face again. He walked up to Sena, yanked up the back of his shirt without warning, and said, loudly, "Look at that, shrimp, you bled through the bandages. That whipping just isn't going heal—"

"You whipped him?" Raimon burst out. "And then you made him run like that? What kind of monster are you?"

He stomped over, prepared to give a piece of his mind, only to have Kurita bodily put himself between them, looking sad and worried. "Monta, please..."

"My name isn't Monta!" Raimon tried to get around him, but no matter which direction he tried to cut, there only seemed to be more Kurita.

"Oh?" Hiruma contrived to look innocent. "But everyone knows Deimon has no receiver. The moment they see his first run, the entire enemy team is going to be targeting him. You haven't even seen how brutal the training is going to get for this shrimp."

"Do you even have a heart? Look how hard he's trying! You whipped him!"

"R-Raimon, please," said Sena, whose legs hadn't yet stopped trembling.

"He was even trying to tell me you're not so bad! But you're even worse than I thought! You won't even let him heal properly!"

"How I wish I could! But if we're going to the Christmas bowl on these legs, we're going to need to work him until he dies, and then revive him for more." Hiruma put a possessive arm around Sena's shoulders, and smiled widely. "Such a shame! It's all I can do, without being able to use passes. If only we had a proper receiver who practiced!"

Yukimitsu, who had opened his mouth to protest, seemed to realize something, and subsided, a quiet frown on his face.

Sena looked closer and closer to passing out each second, but he didn't say a word of protest either. Somehow, the resignation on his face was worse than any tears or pleas could have been.

"If only—!" Hiruma repeated dramatically.

"Fine!" Raimon screeched, "I'll practice! I'm already going to be the number one catching expert in the world anyway! It'll be nothing to catch some dumb footballs! So you leave this guy alone!"

Still half-draped over Sena's shoulder, Hiruma used his free hand to give the football a light toss. As did, he lifted his eyebrow and said, very precisely, "Hook."

Raimon gritted his teeth, but it only took one more glance at Sena standing there shivering to get him to move. It galled him to follow Hiruma's orders, but it was easy after all the training he'd been forced into. Honestly, he was in better shape than he'd ever been in his life, and he knew the pass routes so well they might as well been burned into the ground at his feet. He hooked just in time to see that tight spiraling bullet of a pass leave Hiruma's hand, and threw himself forward.

"I told you!" he crowed, as he clutched it to his chest, thrilled despite the situation to have made such a tricky catch, "I'm the best receiver in the world!"

But Hiruma wasn't even looking at him anymore, instead holding out the water bottle for Sena, who sipped cautiously from the straw. Raimon couldn't help but feel like it was some kind of message. Cooperate, and he gets water. Don't, and...

With a satisfied smirk, Hiruma reached up behind Sena, and and tugged his shirt back down. "Line and sinker," he added, and laughed.