Chapter Twelve: Violence In The Blood
Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.
Song Playing: Just For
Theme 47: Kill
There was not doubt in anyone's mind that Hiruma was a violent boy. No one could honestly say that he wasn't considering the amount of firearms that he carried on his person, not to mention the weaponry hidden underground not far from the club house. His manic grin. His array of artillery. His wicked cackle. Everything about him screamed hostile takeover and pain on whoever stood up to him.
Still for all his shot bullets and outspoken threats there was never a record of him every truly harming anyone- physically anyway. There were plenty of cases of mental anguish and emotional trauma but not a single person could ever say that they were ever physically injured by the demon. There were never bruises or scraps. And if there were they were not caused- directly or indirectly- by the quarterback.
It was surprising really, what with his bad temper and all.
Though he never aimed to hurt. If he wanted to cause injury it was practically guaranteed that it would happen. He didn't aim to maim. He aimed to win. He aimed to ground his opponent into the ground no matter to odds. He came to kill. That's how he lived his life- which was football at this point. So he surprised even himself when he felt a wave of rage sweep over him when he spotted a bruise on his manager's arm, a bruise that consisted of five fingers and a palm.
He still remembered glaring into the crowd, his eyes immediately falling on a tall teenager with dread locks and cold aggressive eyes. The smirk the bastard had given him had made his blood boil in a way he didn't know existed. It was the only time that he could ever recall wanting to kill someone.
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