They must have run back home, but Sena had no experience of time nor distance passing. He had the vague impression of Monta trying to talk to him, ask him questions, but he didn't know if he managed to form an answer. He was pretty sure he managed to run, though. It was what he had been sent out to do, (and to not do), and no matter his other failures, he could finish that much, for what good it did him.

As they opened the gate, it was to reveal a front yard much more crowded than the one they'd left. The massive RV from camp had somehow lumbered its way down from the mountain to barely squeeze within the property limits, and Kurita was cheerily carrying out camping chairs to set up around it. The entire yard was bustling in a way it had never been before, as all the Deimon members, from camp and otherwise, seemed to be rushing around within it. It was lively, almost carnival-like, and Monta immediately cheered up at the sight.

It was also the worst possible timing, since Sena knew he had to confess his crimes, and he had been hoping to do it alone.

He had spent the entire interval furiously not thinking about what Hiruma's reaction was going to be, the same way you might refuse to look over the edge of a cliff, but still be perfectly aware what would happen when you fell. The only thing Hiruma truly seemed to care about was football, and Sena knew it wouldn't end well for him, legs or no, if he had ruined their chances for the upcoming game. If there was any way to accept his punishment without witnesses, he would have begged for the opportunity, but with the entire team here, he couldn't even hope for that much.

Monta ran over to help Kurita arrange the chairs around the RV, which, as Sena crept by, suddenly folded open, an entire panel of it hinging down to form a table surface. From the new opening, a head and torso popped out, bearing guacamole. As he leaned down to place it on the table, he saw Sena and Monta, and said, "Huh?"

Then a second emerged next to him, holding tortillas. "Huh?"

And a third, a pitcher of sangria. "Huh?!"

"It's the brothers!" said Monta. "You made it!"

"Who are you calling brothers, you monkey?"

As Monta and the brothers (?) devolved into an argument, Sena inched past them, scanning the yard. No sign of Hiruma, but it would be worse to be caught delaying. Around back to the training yard he went, and when he peeked in through the door, he found Hiruma still in the kitchen, still clacking away at his laptop, looking like he'd never left.

As Sena tried to steel himself to approach, Hiruma shot him a look that made his insides turn.

He knew.

"I'm s-so sorry, master," said Sena miserably. "He was on the enemy team, I-I should never have run in front of him—"

Hiruma pushed away from the table, and motioned him over.

"I know I failed you," Sena continued, even as he helplessly obeyed, "I'll do whatever you want, I'll run faster, or I'll never run again, you tell me, I'll take whatever punishment you decide, I won't fight—"

Hiruma held out his finger in a shushing motion, and then, not waiting for Sena's mouth to catch up to his brain, simply pressed the surprisingly warm digit against Sena's lips until he was forced to stop talking.

Sitting, Hiruma was nearly level with Sena standing up. Actually, Hiruma had to look up at him slightly, which didn't seem right. "Where did he touch you?" he said.

"Sh-Shin?" said Sena, bewildered, trying not to enunciate too much around the finger pinning his lips.

"The fucking lizard," which was actually a perfectly clear description. "He said he grabbed you, and the lights disappeared out of your fucking skull. Show me."

Grateful for a clear directive, and no need to decipher the reasoning behind it, Sena scrambled to peel off the sleeve of his jacket, and then, in his haste to obey, popped the right side of his shirt over his head, revealing three long fingers of already-purpling bruise on his shoulder: a thumb pointing at his collarbone and two fingers raking down the back, like a talon grip.

At least it's not in front of everyone else, he thought, as the sudden chill on his skin reminded him of another time that he deserved punishment. Then, he'd been swaddled in bandages, but now he was down to only a few patches: mostly on his back, and a few scraps of leg and knee. Now that he thought about it, the upcoming practice match seemed almost perfectly timed for when his body would be completely healed, or should have been. As his skin prickled over with goosebumps, he worried if the new bruises were what his master was concerned about. He had no doubt Hiruma could easily replace him if he wasn't up to condition.

Then Hiruma grabbed him possessively—upper arm, opposite shoulder—and pulled him in for closer inspection, face inches from the bruising. Oh. Oh. Of course.

Nobody wanted their things to be marked by someone else. Sena hoped Hiruma's solution would be to cover the bruises with his own marks, not to throw him away. His master's hands were brandingly hot on his bare skin, callused and strong. They could squeeze him, mark him, hurt him. Forgive him.

Then they were gone, and Hiruma was sitting back with an expression that wasn't so much a grin, as a setting of the points of his teeth against each other. "You want me to get him over here and apologize to you?" He casually flicked his laptop shut, eyes never leaving Sena's. "The fucking lizard. I'll put him on his hands and knees, have him lick the ground at your feet. Just say the word."

"W-what?" said Sena helplessly. He was pretty sure that wasn't the word Hiruma had in mind.

"No? Pity. It would have destroyed him. Offer's on the table, let me know."

Order of business done, Hiruma picked up Sena's hand and pressed a stack of cards into it. "Wrote some new plays for Saturday. Memorize them if it kills you."

Sena accepted the cards, but he couldn't just accept that he'd somehow managed to escape his punishment again.

"Put your shirt back on," Hiruma added. "We need some team practice, before the game."

Sena did so. He should have felt safer, being permitted to tug the covering back over himself, hiding the markings that offended his master, but conversely his hands had started shaking so much that he almost couldn't do it. Hiruma made no move to help.

"I-I ran at my top speed, master," Sena whispered. Maybe Hiruma didn't know the full story after all? "In front of Shin."

"Why do you think I wrote new plays?" When Hiruma stood, he suddenly towered over Sena again. "Yeah, I wanted to shock him during the game, but it doesn't matter. We'll still kill them."