Being tackled by Shin, Sena discovered, was every bit as painful as it looked.

Now that Monta was constantly surrounded, and Oujou had retaken the lead, Sena should have expected to be given the ball for real—it was just that the weight of it settling into his hands felt like a live bomb. Even Shin, who had no line of sight on him, seemed to sense it somehow, like a hunting dog scenting prey: the instant the ball changed hands, Shin immediately diverted course to hone right in on him.

Even knowing he was coming, Sena had nowhere to dodge to: there were too many bodies on the field, all targeting him, and he underestimated how far Shin could reach with that unfair height. Before he knew it, the same tackle that had saved him a few days ago from Habashira was slamming him into the ground. Face down on the astroturf, breath crushed out of his lungs, every instinct told Sena to stay down, just hold still and wait for the pain to end. That morning, Hiruma's pep talk had consisted of simply, "Protect the ball with your life," so he curled up around it best as he could, and braced himself.

But Shin didn't continue to attack him. Of course not. The referee blew the whistle, and the threatening forms that had been bearing down on him a second ago now began to disperse.

Shin even offered him a hand, which he cautiously accepted, expecting to be helped up. Instead, Shin all but picked him up and set him on his feet, as though he weighed no more than the football he was holding. To be fair, Shin had grounded him with hardly more than a flex of his fingers. It made sense he could just as easily lift him back up, or who knows, maybe even throw him across the field.

"Thanks," said Sena shyly. "And for the other day too, I never got to—"

"Did I imagine it?" Shin cut in, expression unreadable, eyes flint hard. "Your speed that day."

Sena felt the breath rush out of his lungs, as if he'd been tackled all over again. The only thing he managed to choke out was a tiny, "S-sorry—"

"Hey, back off!" came a voice from behind him. Sena broke away to see two of their linemen, Juumonji and Kuroki, scowling and advancing on them.

"What are you doing to our runner?" Kuroki added, reaching for his back, as if he normally had a weapon slung over it, and momentarily forgot it wasn't there. The two of them and their brother had always scared Sena, and the broken-off gesture didn't make him feel any better.

Shin took this all in calmly and said, "Hmm," as he left.

"H-he really wasn't doing anything to me," said Sena, as the two of them each put a hand on one of his shoulders and began pushing him back to their side of the field. Sena felt more threatened by them at the moment than he had by Shin.

"Really? Because Hiruma said he was—" Juumonji suddenly seemed to notice they were frogmarching the terrified Sena between them. He dropped his hand and swatted Kuroki's arm away in the same gesture. "Well, it doesn't matter. We couldn't stop that fucker and he went for your skinny ass instead. Next time we'll make him fight someone his own size."

It was the last thing he'd expected to come out of Juumonji's mouth. This was the guy who'd almost stabbed Sena's hand on taco night when he'd put it down too close to Juumonji's plate. What on earth had Hiruma said to him?

Speaking of whom, they were starting to huddle up, and somehow he'd ended up directly across from Hiruma. He had seen others fail today and return to get a frothing, furious telling-off from their captain. He mentally prepared himself for the same, but instead Hiruma just gave him a long, strange look. "First time with the ball, I figured a nervous shrimp like you would be shrinking away from a fight. Instead you're running right at the enemy. Got some kind of death wish?"

"Sorry?" Sena was starting to sound repetitive, but it was the safest answer. He didn't know how to explain that being tackled, painful though it was, was far from his worst fear right now. Oujou was leading by a worrying margin. If he lost them their very first game, if his master decided he wasn't worthy of the team, he already knew the hell that awaited him. Yukimitsu wasn't even here, tasked with staying home and watching over Musashi, but Hiruma seemed to see some potential in him. Sena wasn't sure he himself would be so lucky, especially after he'd already been given a chance.

Hiruma was still looking at him with skepticism. Sena wanted to ask if he'd done the wrong thing, but Hiruma spoke first. "So how was it? Facing the strongest linebacker in the league."

"Shin seems amazing," Sena answered honestly. "So... fast." And powerful, and focused. But now that he was back on his feet, he couldn't help but feel a tad relieved. Being tackled hurt, but now that he'd experienced it once, he knew it was nothing he couldn't survive. If he could win them a little distance each time before he was taken down, he would gladly serve Hiruma in that slow, minuscule way, and accept the pain that came with it. It was far less excruciating than many of the ways he'd served previous owners, and it felt more meaningful somehow than being beaten simply because his owner was in the mood for it. He just wasn't sure if it was enough.

"You're faster than him, you idiot." The others were all crowded around them by now, darkening the space in the huddle, but no one contradicted Hiruma. Could that be possible? Him, faster than that amazing Shin?

"Once you clear Shin, he won't be able to catch up to you, no matter how hard he tries. Just keep going. Nobody on this entire field can outrun you. You got that?"

Sena nodded, more because it was the expected answer than because it made any sense. Even if he were faster, there was no way he could get past Shin, right? So what did it matter?

"Same play," Hiruma announced. "Fucking brothers, open a path for the shrimp if it kills you. I don't care if you can't hold it. Buy him a second. Half a second. He'll get through."

I will? thought Sena frantically.

"I rushed the scheduling of this game because Shin's been—" Here Hiruma seemed to bite off what he was going to say, as if reconsidering. Was it possible that even he had boundaries? "—out of practice. From here on, he's only going to get stronger. If you can't beat him in this state, you never will."

Sena carried that thought with him as they set up for the snap. He hoped Hiruma might go for a pass again, but no luck—the quarterback seemed intent on forcing this battle now. Accepting the ball, Sena tucked it to his body, and ran. Ahead of him, something seemed to be fueling the three brothers to a frenzy, because together the three of them managed to shove back Ootawara, the enemy lineman who was nearly as big as Kurita. Sena knew Ootawara would be back in position in a instant, but the instant was all he needed to dart through the center. Shin was at the edge of the field, this time there was no way he would be—

It all happened in glimpses. Shin charging, head down, eyes fixed forward, like he could gore Sena with them if he kept them aimed properly. Juumonji breaking away from Ootawara to reach for Shin, at the same time Shin reached for Sena. Over the baseline din on the field, he could hear a deeper, angrier growl tear from Juumonji's chest as he grasped Shin by the uniform. It wouldn't stop Shin by a long shot, but it slowed him a hair, and somehow that was enough for Sena to get past.

He couldn't look behind him, but he could feel Shin right on his back. He would have thrown off Juumonji by now, his arm would be ready to extend.

But.

Ahead of him, Sena could see all the way to the end zone. It was impossibly far away, but his master's voice echoed in his ear: "Nobody on this entire field can outrun you." Shin was behind him, but there was no one in front. If he was fast enough, he could run clear to the end.

And as he sped up into that desperate sprint that he'd practiced, for once it was to run towards something, instead of running away. For a moment suspended in time, Shin, Hiruma, everyone else in the stadium ceased to exist, as he pushed himself forward, harder, harder—

When Monta had gotten his first touchdown, he'd lifted his arms into the air and roared with the crowd. As Sena passed the goal line, he found his feet slipping on the grass instead. He crashed forward onto his face, and felt the overwhelming noise of the crowd vibrating through the very ground beneath him. For a second he thought maybe Shin had caught up to him after all, and tackled him too late. Then he realized that his legs had simply given out.

Painfully, he pushed himself onto his gloved hands so he could look behind him. To his shock, Shin was half a field away, staring at him with that same intense expression. This time Sena didn't find it nearly so inscrutable or intimidating, because something within him responded in echo. For the first time in his life, he was allowed—no, ordered—to fight back, and this weak, tiny body of his somehow felt like it might contain the power to do so.

Maybe that was why his heart was drumming so hard in his chest.

Maybe that was why he was actually looking forward to facing Shin again.

Update 6/29/2020 - I haven't gotten too much engagement here, so I think I'll only continue to update at AO3 for now. You can find me at the same username there, or feel free to send me a PM if you have trouble accessing it!